Pack Creek Ranch, San Juan County, Utah
Cloudy skies, snow flurries, 20 degrees
The 18th day of January in 2012

The hot astronomy news is the discovery of planets orbiting around two suns. Imagine that. Two sunrises and two sunsets every day.
It’s truly weird way out there.
And weird here, as well. No winter. Mild, dry, sunny. No snow.
Minimal wild life, inside and out – no mice, no packrats, few deer or coyotes or saber tooth tigers or mountain alligators.
A disconcertingly high amount of calm . . .

AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED?

A couple of weeks ago I posted a journal containing 7 very short stories.
The posting had this introduction:

My daily personal journal contains a random collection ideas and images and information accumulated in real life, day by day.
My imagination often takes that material and runs away with it – extending the factual into the world of the possible.
Truth is at the heart of the process, but in different forms.
Here is a variety of examples – with no particular connection or theme.
The only thread is between my mind and yours.

The posting ended with the note that there would be more to come.
Sure enough, the stories have continued to unfold in my mind.
Here’s one – the original beginning and then what happened . . .

FIVE

A couple made rambunctious love in the room below me in the middle of the night in the Nikos-Takis Hotel on the Island of Rhodes - Nov. 11, 2011.
The floor and walls were thin, without much soundproofing.
Woooo-haaaa!

I salute their enthusiasm, their passionate cries, their sense of rhythm,
their endurance, and their terms of endearment.
And I appreciate their religious sensibility in again and again calling upon God to witness their love making. “Aiee, Dios – Aiee, Dios – Aiee, Dios!”

Moreover, I admire their stamina.
It was a three-round, two-hour circus event.
Leaving me sitting wide-eyed and exhausted on the edge of my bed.
Wow!

When I sat across from them the next morning at breakfast, I was surprised.
For one thing, they were sharing a bottle of red wine at 9 a.m.
For another, neither of them was young or beautiful.
Nicely dressed, neatly coiffed, politely behaved – but not young or pretty.

“Is that the couple from room 2 – the one below mine?” I asked the waiter.
“Yes. They come every year at this time. And . . . they are not . . . how shall I say . . . married to each other.”

Later that night I was at a cafe called Rogmi Tou Chrona – The Crack In Time. They were there, drinking champagne and eating roast lamb.
When the musicians began playing, they danced with graceful skill out on the terrace under the full moon.

A taxi came and took them away.
That night there was silence beneath my room.

“Is the couple from room 2 still here?” I asked at breakfast.
“No, they only come for one night – every year.
They are . . . sister and brother . . .”

Later that night, in a plane high over the Mediterranean Sea, the woman sits holding the hand of the man. Same couple.
She looks at him . . . and begins softly laughing.
“Costas, did you really tell the concierge that we were sister and brother?”

“Well . . . yes.”

“You crazy, crazy man. That’s kinky.”
“Actually, not really. We are all Greeks, are we not? And in our myths our gods committed incest all the time. Fathers slept with daughters. Mothers slept with sons. Brothers and sisters slept together. And in our ancient drama, it is the same. No Greek should really be surprised at the idea.
We grow up knowing at least the habits of the gods, if not our own.”

“Yes, but this is now. Isn’t incest illegal?”

“Sure, but the hotel is not going to call the police. We are good customers. They need our business. And our incestuous relationship gives a certain edginess to our presence there. They pay a lot of attention to us. We’re not just another stuffy old tourist couple.  Brother and sister . . . oooooh.
And you can bet that the concierge probably told everybody on the staff and any guest who asked. Did you see how that American couple stared at us?
They were in the room above us . . .”

The woman laughed again and kissed Costas on the cheek.

“I like all the crazy games you play – it gives an edginess to our love- making when we go off on our anniversary trips. Thirty years . . .”

Costas smiled and squeezed her hand.

“Ah, Maria, my beloved . . . we may not be as good as we once were, but we are as good once as we ever were.”

She laughed and kissed him on the check again.
“What do you suppose the Americans upstairs thought?”

“Well, they didn’t complain – and . . . maybe . . . if they knew the whole truth about us, they might be inspired. Maybe they would like knowing that old love is not always tired love . . .”