And the Mountains Echoed

Mamá asked.
    There was a flash of surprise in Thalia’s eyes. A kind of double take. Like a person walking down a crowded street in a foreign city catching within earshot a snippet of her native tongue. “Horizontal,” she said in that strange wet voice of hers.
    â€œWhat did you use for a gnomon?”
    Thalia’s eyes rested on Mamá. “I cut a postcard.”
    That was the first time I saw how it could be between those two.
    â€œShe used to take apart her toys when she was little,” Madalinesaid. “She liked mechanical toys, things with inner contraptions. Not that she played with them, did you, darling? No, she’d break them up, all those expensive toys, open them up as soon as we gave them to her. I used to get into such a state over it. But Andreas—I have to give him credit here—Andreas said to let her, that it was a sign of a curious mind.”
    â€œIf you like, we can build one together,” Mamá said. “A sundial, I mean.”
    â€œI already know how.”
    â€œMind your manners, darling,” Madaline said, extending, then bending, one leg, as though she were stretching for a dance routine. “Aunt Odie is trying to be helpful.”
    â€œMaybe something else, then,” Mamá said. “We could build some other thing.”
    â€œOh! Oh!” Madaline said, hurriedly blowing smoke, wheezing. “I can’t believe I haven’t told you yet, Odie. I have news. Take a guess.”
    Mamá shrugged.
    â€œI’m going back to acting! In films! I’ve been offered a role, the lead, in a major production. Can you believe it?”
    â€œCongratulations,” Mamá said flaccidly.
    â€œI have the script with me. I’d let you read it, Odie, but I worry you won’t like it. Is that bad? I’d be crushed, I don’t mind telling you. I wouldn’t get over it. We start shooting in the fall.”
    The next morning, after breakfast, Mamá pulled me aside. “All right, what is it? What’s wrong with you?”
    I said I didn’t know what she was talking about.
    â€œYou best drop it. The stupid act. It doesn’t suit you,” she said.She had a way of narrowing her eyes and tilting her head just a shade. To this day it has a grip on me.
    â€œI can’t do it, Mamá. Don’t make me.”
    â€œAnd why not, exactly?”
    It came out before I could do a thing about it. “She’s a monster.”
    Mamá’s mouth became small. She regarded me not with anger but with a disheartened look, as though I’d drawn all the sap out of her. There was a finality to this look. Resignation. Like a sculptor finally dropping mallet and chisel, giving up on a recalcitrant block that will never take the shape he’d pictured.
    â€œShe’s a person who has had a terrible thing happen to her. Call her that name again, I’d like to see you. Say it and see what happens.”
    A little bit later there we were, Thalia and I, walking down a cobblestone path flanked by stone walls on each side. I made sure to walk a few steps ahead so passersby—or, God forbid, one of the boys from school—wouldn’t think we were together, which, of course, they would anyway. Anyone could see. At the least, I hoped the distance between us would signal my displeasure and reluctance. To my relief, she didn’t make an effort to keep up. We passed sunburned, weary-looking farmers coming home from the market. Their donkeys labored under wicker baskets containing unsold produce, their hooves clip-clopping on the footpath. I knew most of the farmers, but I kept my head down and averted my eyes.
    I led Thalia to the beach. I chose a rocky one I sometimes went to, knowing it would not be as crowded as some of the other beaches, like Agios Romanos. I rolled up my pants and hopped from one craggy rock to the next, choosing one close to where the waves crashed and retracted. I took off my shoes and lowered my feet into a shallow little pool that had formed between a cluster ofstones. A hermit crab scurried away from my toes. I saw Thalia to my right, settling atop a rock close by.
    We sat for a long while without talking and watched the ocean rumbling against the rocks. A nippy gust whipped around my ears, spraying the scent of salt on my face. A pelican hovered over the blue-green water, its wings spread. Two ladies stood side by side, knee-deep in the water, their skirts held up