Santorini, Greece: Watching After Madelina
By Lydie Miller

“My colleague has a daughter,” Anton told me. 

“How old is she?”

“Twelve.” 

“Can she speak English?” 

“Yes, pretty well I think.” 

I couldn’t be picky.  I needed a friend.  I had twelve days left in Santorini; and though it was paradise and I never tired of looking at it, there was only so much I could do to keep myself busy while Anton was working.  I was sitting in the shade beneath the awning, alone, sipping from my glass of Fanta, stealing suggestive glances at Anton, and eagerly awaiting a lapse in the dinner rush.  One came.  He approached me and told me a little more. 

“Her name is Madelina.  She’s from Romania.  She’s by herself all day also.” 

I laughed about the situation—vacation-babysitting.  I watched as a girl of twelve with shiny dark hair and chocolate eyes moseyed up the beach and, smiling, stopped to talk to her father on the promenade several feet before me.  She had long legs and wore a fluorescent, multi-colored, two-piece swimsuit.  She turned to face me. 

“Would you like to go to the beach with me tomorrow?” she called. 

I nodded eagerly. 

“What time?” 

“One,” I answered, signaling with one finger, excitement in my voice. 

“One o’ clock,” she confirmed.  “I shall see you tomorrow.” 

She and her father exchanged quick goodbyes before she turned and continued walking.  I remember a bounce in her step. 

The next day I arrived at our meeting spot at the restaurant where Madelina’s father and Anton were waiters.  Madelina was prompt.  She had brought a ball and two paddles and goggles with a nosepiece.  Immediately she wanted to go for a swim, apologizing that she hadn’t extra goggles for me and offering me her own.  We swam down the beach to a place where kids spent all day jumping off rocks.  I told her I wanted to try it. 

“Oh no,” she responded quickly. “My father told me that if I do that I’ll spend the rest of the summer in the house.”  We sat on the bank in the black pebbly sand instead, watching the other kids, small-talking.  Madelina asked me if I liked the Barbie movies—I told her I hadn’t seen them.  She asked me what I wanted to do as my career—I said I wanted to be a writer.  I asked her the same question.  She struggled to find the word in English, apologizing. 

“I want to study mummies,” she told me.  “They are my passion.” 

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