Washing the Goddesses Hair

As I worked these cruises I found myself spending much more time with the ship's officers and crew and started to make some friends. In the four years I had sailed with Edna we had been so absorbed with each other that we had not socialized especially much with others, making few close friends. I made especially close friends with a young cheerful 2nd Officer named Nereus, who came from a small island near Rhodes that I couldn't find on any of the first three maps I looked for it on. He taught me enough workable Greek that I wasn't a complete laughing stock when I spoke, and encouraged me to spend a day or two visiting his island after my current season was done, before flying home. He gave me names and addresses of family who would "make me feel at home" and I promised to do so. His uncle ran the islands only tourist hotel and there was a boat that went every other day between there and Rhodes. I promised I would indeed go for a visit.

I did, and enjoyed every second of my stay (only a far too brief two days) and was made to feel just like a member of the family. Word had preceded me that I was not entirely an ugly ill-tempered brute with poor table manners, and a welcome party was staged for me that I think featured every suitable unmarried woman on the island. There were two good sized villages on the island; the larger one with the harbor and tourist hotel at the north end of the island. I kept my Greek at a minimum to avoid accidentally committing to any marriage proposals, but the feminine scenery was truly magnificent. At least half of the women would not have disgraced any Paris or Milan fashion runway, and the fact that topless (and even nude sunbathing) was an unremarkable common event on every beach only enhanced the appeal of the lovelies that I met. I vowed to return at least twice a year from now on, usually stayed now for a week or so at a time before and at the end of each Season of cruises.

Each visit it became more difficult for me to leave and I recommended the island (and its jovial hotelier) to every troubled young lady or couple that ever graced my piano at 4AM unable to sleep due to relationship problems. From what I could tell, Dr. Saul's cure was nearly 100% fully effective, but it was also an addictive cure, "Uncle Hilarion's" hotel was becoming more popular every visit and sometimes alas, I couldn't get my favorite room, the upstairs far NW corner, with it's perfect view of long unspoiled beaches and fantastic sunsets. The NE corner room next door, had the best view of the harbor and was nominally considered "the best" in the hotel, but I preferred my more peaceful view (and the far from irregular occurrence) of nicely bronzed or starting to tan bare breasts and asses that walked by or sunbathed within view of my appreciative eyes. There were said to be a few remaining classical period Greek ruins on the island but I never seemed to manage to find the time to go looking for them.

I did mention that there seemed to be no nudity taboo on this island, and the attitude towards casual (and even semi-public) sex was scarcely stricter (as long as the girls were 'of appropriate age'). I began to regain my lost sex life, which improved my disposition to no end. As Uncle Hilarion explained to me once in his excellent English while we were talking late one night during my second visit, "We are a friendly happy island that has not known war or any great sadness for many, many generations. The troubles of other lands seldom come to our shores, and even the rule of the Ottomans, and the terribleness of this centuries great wars, never fully became our lamentations to share. Strangers sometimes come to us, but most strangers are like you, great life-long friends that we had not yet met for the first time. Our men have greeted you with open arms and kisses of friendship. Our women apparently with quite open legs and kisses of another kind entirely." We laughed heartily, and embraced, and I think at that moment I truly became part of the "family" and I never referred to Hilarion ever again as anything other than "Uncle", and his loving wife Adelphe became my "Aunt"

It was the winter of 1989, when my perfect streak of relationship repair counseling had its first failure. During one of my early December cruises, I was enjoying a rare night of semi-quiet in the piano bar at 4AM, with only a few very quiet listeners in the room when one Elizabeth Barrett slink into the bar and over to my piano, like a madwoman possessed. She looked for a tip jar and couldn't find one (I don't use one, I was being well paid - the highest of any other pianist on any ship of the Cruise Line, and didn't like to act "needy"), so she flung open her handbag and tossed down a Ten Pound note in front of me and said simply "Sad songs, and keep them coming." She then got a big glass of wine and sat down next to me with big sad eyes that looked pretty well teared out, and started to gulp her drink.

Sad songs I definitely knew a few of, but I sort of resented her intrusion and abruptness of manner, so I thought to myself that if she wanted sad, then Sad was what she's going to get. For the next half hour or so I played the five saddest songs I knew of... they were the ones I had composed that first year in my mournful early morning hours after my loss of Edna, and these songs were guaranteed when heard all together to make nearly anyone run to throw themselves overboard, or reach for a straight razor or long length of rope. My favorite of this lot "Gray Mists at Dawn" make Billie Holiday's singing of "Gloomy Sunday" sound like a church revival song. At the end she looked up at me with wonder, and said "That was beautiful, what's that song called and who recorded it?" I told her the song names, and that they were my original compositions, and I wasn't quite yet ready to record them. My appraisal of her rose considerably and I took a moment to get a fresh glass of wine myself (and brought a new one for her as well) and started to give her a proper look over.

The effort was well worth the time, she was a looker, and maybe even a stunning beauty when her face wasn't all washed out from crying, and looked to be in her mid-late 30's, albeit extremely well preserved and superbly maintained. She had those 'one in a million' perfect set of cheekbones that made other women hate her instantly on sight, and smallish, but very well presented breasts (B-cups?) that even a baggy T-shirt couldn't completely disguise. The butt and legs looked considerably well above average as well, but I hadn't managed a suitable view yet of them while she sat wearing jeans. Emboldened by her smile and a glass of exceptional Northern Italian Cabernet, I volunteered three observations to her.

"I don't need three guesses to tell that your problem doesn't involved any vegetables or minerals, so your problem is most definitely "Animal. Also, don't chug down that glass of red, that's some decent stuff that needs to be sipped and appreciated, and speaking of appreciation, if your lover doesn't appreciate you they're obvious bughouse nuts then and you should run screaming in the opposite direction yourself, because you are a pearl amongst a very large herd of swine". I raised my glass to her and she burst out in a new revived torrent of waterworks. Slowly, a sip of wine at a time, I got her to tell me her story.

As I suspected she was a former fashion model, now retired to working on the other side of the camera as a Photography Editor for a famous international women's fashion magazine. She was American by birth, but had spent most of her modeling career in Europe, and now lived in London close to her magazines offices in Chelsea, but often still traveled. This particular trip for her was to manage a ship-board photo shoot of some swimwear and poolside loungewear that would be featured in the magazine later this coming summer (Fashion always works about 6 months in advance, in the wintertime they are planning summer, and vice versa). Her "lover", a much younger mid-20 something female model, was incorrigibly unfaithful to her and paraded her other lovers shamelessly before Elizabeth. This particular evening, Elizabeth had phoned back home to London to find that her lover (Meg) was having a wild lesbian orgy in their flat (and in Elizabeth's bed) and had made innumerable unkind and cutting remarks about the all of the delicious "younger and fresher cunt" she was getting.

Situation normal for their relationship, it seemed. Meg was constantly chasing and bedding girls of her own age in an endless cycle of non-stop partying, while Elizabeth desperately tried to hold the relationship together even by a thread, all the while her lover was rubbed her infidelities shameless into Elizabeth's face. I was frankly dismayed and horrified at this behavior, and at her willingness to continue to forgive and accept this continued treatment. Why hadn't she thrown the "ungrateful bitch out long ago?" Elizabeth had no answer. We refilled our wine glasses another two times that early morning and talked until early breakfast was ready. I told her of my own recent loss and unhappiness and we became willing partners in misery. I offered my elbow to her, which she accepted and I escorted her to breakfast. She declined my offer of an escort to her room and we parted with a brief hug, but no peck on the check.

It was no surprise to find that she again joined me the next night by the piano when I started at about 10PM after dinner. The bar was very crowded that night and I had several well-wishers and saw an old acquaintance or two (including a woman that seemed quite inclined to accept any offer of intimate companionship I might care to make). Elizabeth gave me a weak smile and settled into a large comfy chair in a corner and settled into doing some irregular writing into a large spiral notebook in her lap, often with long pauses where she stared into the ceiling seeming lost for words or inspiration. By about 4AM we were nearly alone, my amorous admirer had long since settled for a lesser (but more obtainable) piece of dessert. We had not managed to speak a word together until then, and she moved over and greeted with a refill of my wine glasses (along with one for herself) and asked me to play my songs through for her again.

"Are you sure?" I asked, she seemed fairly upbeat in mood at the moment and my new songs were a bit depressing. She was VERY sure. "Play it Saul; you played it for her now play it again for me". A woman who loved Bogart! She was now ranking very high indeed in my estimations.

I played for them again for her, and she would sometimes have me stop and repeat a certain measure or two for her. She seemed at time to be mouthing some words I could not distinguish and often looked at what she had written in the notebook. Sometimes stopping to violently scratch out some passage and hurriedly writing something new in its place. Under no circumstances would she allow me the slightest peek at what she had written. We spent the pre-dawn hours in this manner until breakfast time, after which she left to take her brief morning nap before the start of her photograph duties later that morning. This became our daily schedule for the remaining 4 days of this cruise. She would sometimes take my hand gently now, give me an occasional hug and a "goodnight" peck on the check after breakfast.

The afternoon of our scheduled return to Athens later that evening, I arose early (I normally slept days now and stayed up all night) to watch her at work with her photo shoots. On the job, Elizabeth seemed vigorous and supremely confident, always knowing what photography or lighting angles would improve the shoot and how each model should be best presented. She seemed to get along well with her photographer and the lighting and makeup crew. She also displayed a light touch with her models and seemed to know exactly how to get their best efforts. This was a completely different woman than the insecure seemingly beaten down by life woman I was spending my nights with. I remained well out of the way and just observed for several hours and don't think Elizabeth ever once noticed me.

During a short break when Elizabeth was talking with the lighting supervisor suggesting a new arrangement to reduce glare for the next poolside shot, I noticed that the photographer, a slightly older woman of about my age with wedding bands on her hand, came over to talk to me in a whisper, asking me if I was "Beth's new friend Saul?" I admitted it, and she chatted with me quietly for a few minutes, praising me highly for "what I had done for Beth on this trip". I confessed, that I had done little other than provide her with a friendly ear to tell her troubles to, and while I might welcome a closer relationship, that decision was not mine to make. I would be just be her friend until she wanted or asked for anything more. The photographer (Jane), said she was a old friend of Elizabeth's and had shot her in her younger modeling days, and that she would add me to her prayers. She kissed me on the cheek and returned to prepare for the last final round of photography. Glowing slightly, I returned to my room for a nap before we docked, feeling strangely odd inside... knew then I had started to fall in love with Elizabeth but that she was trapped in her loveless relationship, seemingly seeing no way to fix it or able to abandon it.

I expected Elizabeth to come to the piano bar to say goodbye to me there (I still didn't know her stateroom number) but when disembarking began she did not appear. Eventually I found a ships officer that got the information for me that she and her photography crew had been among the first to disembark. I was heartbroken. Elizabeth had left without saying a goodbye. This hurt me much more that I would have expected

and I even felt on the verge of tears when I felt my officer friend Nereus, tapping my hunched shoulders. A woman it seemed had given him a large envelope before disembarking. I looked at it, and it was indeed from Elizabeth. I thanked Nereus who was in some hurry to disembark himself, he had a week of vacation now starting with the very personable companionship of a stewardess (or are they air hostesses now?) from Air France. They were heading home to the island for a bit of sun (lots of bare sun from the sound of it - they had became engaged by the 4th day home, I heard to my delight upon his return later).

Inside Elizabeth's package was a short handwritten note, and five pages of carefully hand-written lyric sheets - one for each of my songs. They didn't just fit, they were PERFECT. Whatever muse had inspired her, her composition was flawless, there was not a single word that I would or could change. Together, the completed work became not just "pretty good" or even "great". They were a Masterpiece. I knew now while I had loved Edna with all of my heart, that Elizabeth now seemed to possess some missing part of my soul. As I read her short written note to me, my despair became near overwhelming.

"Dearest Saul, I cannot tell you how much the recent hours of your life that you have shared with me have meant, or how deeply I sincerely regret that we can no longer share even the small pieces of our lives together that we have over this last week.

I am resolved to not abandon all hope yet for my current relationship but will try and value and incorporate as much of your advice as I can. I miss your selfless companionship already.

I'm not sure if we will ever meet again, but I will remember you always - and wish things (many things) had been different. - Beth -

I brooded for several weeks in utter misery and at length composed a short reply letter to her address to her London office (she had attached one of her business cards with her address, but the phone number had been scratched out).

"To My Dear Troubled Elizabeth, I would be the last man alive to obstruct or interfere in the affairs of any happy couple or to offer them unwelcome advisements, but should you feel in the need to take a vacation for the purpose of repairing a damaged heart or a troubled relationship I can wholeheartedly suggest this certain island hotel where you and yours would be welcomed as family.

Should you wish to also renew the acquaintance of a certain old tired piano player, the fine hotelier whose card I have enclosed is well acquitted with my scheduled comings and goings, so I could welcome you or not, as your needs, inclinations and as the particular circumstances might dictate.

I wish for you every joy and future happiness, and know that I think of you only with fondness, and no regrets. - Saul -

There was nothing more I could or should say. I mailed the letter but received no reply, but I hardly expected any. At the end of the winter season, I spent two weeks on the island visiting Uncle, Aunt and my other friends (even a few lady ones), but she had not phoned Uncle or written, nor did she appear during my stay. My hopes died to an ember, but this seemed to fuel my own muse and I wrote several new songs, slightly more hopeful in mood and emotional tone than my earlier ones over my stay that early spring.

When I arrived again at Uncles hotel for a short 10 day stay just before the start of my summer season of cruising I was given some very welcome news of a mixed blessing nature. I had arrived two days earlier than planned (the Cruise Line wanted me in Athens a few days earlier than needed to help consult with them about a proposed refit and redecoration of the ships lounges) and I received the surprise news that Elizabeth and her lover had been there for almost a week, and were scheduled to leave the next day (the day before my original scheduled arrival. Uncle knew of my history with the young lady and when I told him that I would stay with a friend elsewhere, so as not to make my arrival known, Uncle (and most especially Aunt) was most adamant. "I was to stay and under no circumstances leave this hotel." I could have my own normal room, and stay locked in there if I must, but "Stay you will!" was the mantra. I had learned long ago never to cross Aunt, so stay I did, and I learned a few interesting facts that I guessed Aunt and Uncle had been winking about.

Elizabeth and Meg were in the last stages of their final breakup. The plans for a romantic getaway for the just the two of them self destructed nearly immediately after their arrival. Meg found no parties welcoming her and no discos to entertain her at night, and soon became thoroughly bored. Nearly immediately she was seducing other hotel guests and even enjoyed a local girl or two. Currently, she was infatuated with a young pair of Turkish tourists and screwing the both of them, together and separately, whenever she got the chance. Elizabeth had finally had enough, she ordered Meg out of her room and out of her life. As she watched Meg leave down the hall with her bags (and entering the room of the Turk couple) she heard my distinctive piano playing downstairs, and came down to join me, once again at 4AM in the morning. It seemed to be our best time together.

Once again, I was reunited with Elizabeth in one of her moments of emotional crisis.

"Oh God Damn It" Elizabeth finally bellowed, as we had been looking at each other now for nearly 10 minutes without saying a word. "Come give me a hug and a kiss.... You don't know how much I've missed you." We hugged and even kissed on the lips in a fairly unchaste fashion that hinted at, but didn't actually involve, later tongue participation. We moved over to an old comfy sofa and hurriedly told each other "everything" that we had been doing for the last 4 months or so. We were so absorbed in each other that we didn't even notice Meg leaving the hotel sometime around 8AM, with her new Turk lovers in hand as they left for the harbor and the boat to Rhodes. Nor did either of us much care. I did get Beth to call one of her London friends (it ended up being Jane) to get the keys changed to her flat and get Meg's bags packed and left for her on the doorstep. Jane told me later it was one of the happiest "favours" she had ever done for a friend. Meg was now gone from Elizabeth's life forever. To me, she was now "Beth", she hated "Liz", she hadn't liked it when she was called that at school and Meg had also normally used that name for her. Beth it definitely was from now on.