Dark haired Epidaurus with glasses on webcam chat

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Uh-oh, it looks Dark haired Epidaurus with glasses on webcam chat your Internet Explorer is out of date. For a better shopping experience, please upgrade now. NOOK Book. Late September. I am sitting here with a new notebook and an old heart. Probably I'll laugh at that sentence in a few years, but it is serious right now. My sense of humor is at a low ebb. I'm alone accidentally in Greece, and instead of enjoying being Dark haired Epidaurus with glasses on webcam chat, which is a rare occurrence, since I have six younger siblings, I am feeling idiotically forlorn.

Not because I'm alone but because nothing has gone as planned. What I would like to do is go back to my room in the hotel and curl up on my bed, with my knees up to my chin, like a fetus, and cry. Do unborn babies cry? My parents are both scientists and for a moment I am caught up in wondering about fetuses and tears. I'll ask them when I get home. The sun is warm in Constitution Square, not really hot, but at home, on Benne Seed Island, there's always a sea breeze. Late September in South Carolina is summer, as it is in Greece, but here the air is still and thesun beats down on me without the salt wind to cool it off.

The heat wraps itself around my body. And my body, like everything else, is suddenly strange to me. What do I even look like? I'm not quite sure. Too tall, too thin, not rounded enough for nearly seventeen, red hair. What I look like to myself in my mind's eye, or in the mirror, is considerably less than what I look like in the portrait which now hangs over the piano in the living room of our house on the beach.

It's been there for maybe a couple of months. Nevertheless, it was a thousand years ago that Max said, 'I'd like to paint you in a seashell, emerging from the sea, taking nothing from the ocean but giving some of it back to everyone who puts an ear to the shell.

That, as well as everything else. I've ordered coffee, because you have to be eating or drinking something in order to sit out here in the Square. The Greek coffee is thick and strong and sweet, with at least a quarter of the cup filled with gritty dregs. I noticed some kids at a table near mine, drinking beer, and I heard the girl say that she had come to stop in at American Express to see if her parents had sent her check. He had black hair and pale skin and he looked up and met my eyes, raised one silky black brow, and went back to the book he was reading.

If I'd been feeling kindly toward the human race I'd have gone over and talked to him. A group of kids, male, definitely unwashed, so maybe their checks were late in coming, looked at me but didn'tcome over. Maybe I was too washed. And I didn't have on jeans. Maybe I didn't even look American.

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But I had this weird feeling that I'd like someone to come up to me and say, "Hey, what's your name? You're Polly, and you're going to be quite all right, because that's how you've been brought up. You can manage it, Polly. Just try. I'd left Benne Seed the day before at 5 a. No wonder I had jet lag.

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Airports get more chaotic daily. There are fewer planes, fewer ground personnel, more noise, longer lines, incomprehensible loudspeakers, short tempers, frazzled nerves. But I got my seat asment without too much difficulty, watched my suitcase disappear on the moving belt, and went back to my parents. My father put his hands on my shoulders.

I needed to mature, slow developer that I am. Mother said, 'You'll have a wonderful time with Sandy and Rhea, and they'll be waiting for you at the airport, so don't worry. I'd be with them for a week, and then fly to Cyprus, to be a general girl Friday and gofer at a conference in a village called Osia Theola.

I've done more traveling than most American kids, but this time, for the first time, I'd be alone, on my own, nobody holding my hand, once I left Athens. Athens, my parents kept telling me, was going to be fun, since Rhea was born on the isle of Crete and had friends and relatives all over mainland Greece and most of the islands. Sandy and Rhea were both international lawyers and traveled a lot, and being with them was as safe as being with my parents. Why hadn't I learned that nothing is safe? I wish I could go with you. I wish you were a little girl again. And I'm not. Not anymore. Maybe I'd like to be.

But I'm not. My family knew that something had gone wrong, that something had happened, but they didn't know what, and they respected my right not to tell them untilI was ready, or not to tell them at all. Only my Uncle Sandy knew, because Max had called him to come, and he'd flown down to Charleston from Washington. This was nothing unusual. Sandy, with or without Rhea, drops in whenever he gets a chance, popping over to the island en route to or from somewhere, just to say hello to the family. Fortunately, I'm the oldest of our large family, including our cousin Kate, who's fourteen, living with us and going to school with us on the mainland.

So no one person comes in for too much attention. Mother put her arm around me Dark haired Epidaurus with glasses on webcam chat kissed me and there were questions in her eyes, but she didn't ask them. Flights were being called over the blurred loudspeaker. Other people were hugging Dark haired Epidaurus with glasses on webcam chat saying goodbye.

Daddy gave me a hug and a kiss, too, and I turned away from them and put my shoulder bag on the moving conveyor belt that took it through the X-ray machine. I walked through the X-ray area, retrieved my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and walked on. On the plane I went quickly to my window seat and strapped myself in. The big craft was only a little over half full, and nobody sat beside me, and that was fine with me.

I wanted to read, to be alone, not to make small talk. I leaned back and listened to the announcements, which were given first in Greek, then in English. A stewardess came by with a clipboard, checking off names.

Polly O'Keefe. P-o-double l-y. My parents should have known better. I've learned that it's best if I spell my nickname with two l 's. Poly tends to be pronounced as though it rhymes with pole.

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I'm tall andskinny like a pole, but even so I might get called Roly Poly. So it's Polly, two l's.

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Another stewardess passed a tray of champagne. Without thinking, I took a glass. Why did I take champagne when I didn't even want it? Not because I don't like champagne; not because I'm legally under age; but because of Max. Max and champagne, too much champagne. At first, champagne was an icon of the world of art for me, of painting and music and poetry, with ideas fizzing even more brightly than the dry and sparkling wine. Then it was too much champagne and a mouth tasting like metal. Then it was dead bubbles, and emptiness.

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A House Like a Lotus (O'Keefe Family Series #3)