κάναμε αυτές τις αναμνήσεις για τον εαυτό μας
[ we made these memories for ourselves ]
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"These are your photos?"
Avery nodded nervously as he cowered at the sight of Adamos staring at the new set of photographs.
There were a total of around thirty photos, all rounding around the images that Avery captured around in Greece—some were simply photographs from baklava pieces or some small animal that he had crossed. Yet, all of them were distinctively different to one another; Avery had taken photographs while he was in a wave of seasickness, when Penelope had pushed Odo into his face, or if he just tripped on a small rock—not only were they blurry, they were grained, scratched, distressed, even ripped. And more than half of the thirty were photographs of Penelope.
"Yeah," Avery bit the inside of his cheek, nervously nibbling on his skin. "They're a bit...different."
Adamos hummed in agreement as he moved the polaroids around, analyzing them closely. "I noticed that. Καλα καλα. They are—compared to your old ones. Man, those were too," he paused, "good. For my taste obviously."
"What's supposed to be 'perfect' for your taste?" Avery questioned, peeking over Adamos' shoulder of his photographs.
"Emotion," Adamos replied, lowering the polaroids and leaning back in his chair with an exhale. "Still. I don't understand what's your deal with acceptance. It's your photography—you can do whatever the hell you want with it. I'm not you and you're not me. We don't know what we want." He then eyed Avery skeptically, "Unless...you know something that you cannot tell?"
"No," Avery quickly shook his head in denial. "I'm just aspiring for perfection."
"Perfection does not exist, Lawrence. Or that is what we like to believe—perfection is what you believe it to be," Adamos raised a brow. "So, tell me—what's perfection for you?"
Avery shrugged. "I don't know. I just want to be the best."
"Confident, ambitious, cunning," Adamos mumbled. "A perfect example of a winner—but a loser too. Do you want to be a winner or a loser, Lawrence?"
"What's the difference?" Avery stuffed his fists in his pockets. "We're all going to end up the same. There's no point in choosing a winner or loser. Follower or leader. We are all the same in the end."
Adamos tutted, raising himself from his seat, he walked to the small coffee table across the room, fishing a bottle of liquor and uncapping it. "It's simple and plain. But—the difference is that the winners knew what they wanted, had an objective, and achieved it. But they aren't stopping; they continue, pushing the limits, getting better and better until they are the best. Then the losers? They saw a very subtle illusion of what they wanted to be—they imagined it halfway through, they never finished because they quit. That's why the winner takes it all; the award, the title, the image, the simple glory."
He raised the bottle to his lips, taking a swing. "But don't get confused—winners aren't always the most victorious. Hell, the winners are the actual losers."
Avery's forehead creased. "That doesn't make sense."
"Exactly!" Adamos snapped his fingers. "But, how does this whole game work—shall I demonstrate? Well, it's two people, both drawed. No winner or loser. The game is about to end and one of the two throws an ace. Boom! Victory is called. The judges decide, the spectators rage!"
"Imagine it!" Adamos shook his hands around jazzing. "The bright lights, all eyes on you and Jean Taylor, the tension in the auditorium thicker than ever. And he wins! What do you do? Cry? Laugh? Scream? Attack someone from anger? Either way Taylor wins—but he only wins the superficial glory. The trophy is nothing; you win the experience. You realize your mistakes and the game is on again, but the difference is that this time—you know the technique and you have the ambition to win, because now you see what you want to be."
"You make it sound so easy," Avery mumbled, "how are you so sure? You never won against Jean Taylor."
"You're right," Adamos agreed with a curt nod. "But it never meant I couldn't have won. I simply didn't because I didn't want to--I knew that the knowledge I knew was enough, so I left and continued forward. Avery, I might seem incredibly youthful and handsome, but I know more than you do. I'm a father, once you win that title in life, your mind works differently--you start noticing the little things; manipulation, ambition, vengeance. You seek to take the worst thing from your child, so that's what I did with Penelope--her mother left, but I stayed, we stayed here in Skopelos. We went on adventures, I tought her things a mother should have taught--sewing, cooking, I even taught her about the menstrual cycle! I won't lie; it was a very traumatic experience for me. But it worked out--Avery, believe it or not, I'm trying to help you."
Avery nodded. "I know. But, I'm not a father, I don't understand those things like you do."
"You are right--but your mother does. And I am sure she'd agree with me too," Adamos took a sip of the beer. "Avery, I'm just trying to teach you that you don't need to win! You think you do, but you don't to be the best." He stepped forward and lifted one of the photographs from the table--the one where Avery and Penelope were pushed together in a side-hug, Odo squished against their faces as the scenery of Cordelia's hotel stood behind them. "Do you expect me to believe this isn't love?!"
"I-uh-I," Avery's eyes widened in bewilderment. "No? Yes?" He shook his head. "I don't know!"
"Avery don't be naive!" Adamos stalked forward, latching his hands on a tight grip on Avery's shoulders. "You don't need the trophy back where Jean Taylor is! You have years to come and you can win it then! But right now, you have a bigger gift that's right in front of your eyes that's much more important than any career!"
Avery bit the inside of his cheek, flinching backwards. "There is nothing there. Penelope...Penelope is just a friend. I was right—you are crazy, manic even!"
Adamos scoffed. "Please! Do you think I wouldn't notice that you two fell for each other! I know my daughter and she never looked at any other boy like she looks at you!"
"Then she didn't have any friends that are boys," Avery walked backward, getting close to the door so he could leave.
"Don't walk away from me Avery!" Adamos quickly catches up with him, glaring menacingly. "There's a reason why you never leave her side, that you only take photos of her, that she inspires you! Trust me, it's hard to admit, I know—but, if you don't admit it now, then you'll live to regret it. I made that mistake once, don't be stupid and follow what I did."
"I asked you once—what's the reason you photograph?" Adamos' eyes softened. "Is it because it's interesting? Maybe because it looks cool. Or is it for some other reason...a reason you're not telling me."
Avery's gaze fell to his feet as he stayed completely silent, not a noise uttering from his lips as Adamos' hard gaze held him frozen in place. He couldn't answer, he didn't know how either.
"Avery..." Adamos exhaled deeply. "Follow me."
The blonde boy did as told and followed Adamos curiously like a stray puppy. Adamos led him through a large hallway, pushing the door open to a room—the walls of the room were covered in maps and photographs, and several paintings too. In the middle of the room against the wall stood a large canopy bed, twinkling lights and different chiffon fabrics hanging from the poles. The sheets were tucked slightly, countless amounts of playful stuffed animals laid against the pillows. On the floor sat calmly were bunches of flat rugs—Avery vaguely recalling them to look like the ones in Louis' repair shop down in the market.
Adamos quickly pulled a straw drawer from a cubicle-nightstand next to the bed—from Avery peeking inside, he noticed the large mounds of mixtapes that were all mixed together. He observed as Adamos filed through them, taking quick looks at the handwritten note on the side of each one of them, shaking his head and putting them back when they weren't the correct one.
A grin broke out in Adamos' features once he got a hold of the one he wanted, leading Avery back to the living room and popping a cassette in a small rectangular box-like machine next to the television.
"Sit, sit!" Adamos said hurriedly, pulling Avery down on the sofa next to him.
Avery flinched slightly at the minimal crackle of the television, but breathed in relief once a video appeared on the screen. It seemed that the camera was an old one at the time, the sides looked scratched and the image was grained, but he immediately noticed who the figures were on the screen.
"Come on Penelope, follow me!"
The image was blocked a few times as leaves appeared to have hit against the camera in the video, Avery could spot a small blonde standing in front of the camera, large streaks of tears covering the girl's cheeks.
"No Papa! I'm scared!"
"What are you scared of?! It's just a small lizard, there's no harm!"
"No! It's going to eat me alive!"
Avery chuckled as he saw a thirteen-year old Penelope flinch away from the camera when a small lizard appeared in Adamos' hand at the time.
"It barely moves!" Adamos laughed behind the camera. "It won't hurt you, I won't let it!"
"Papa!" Penelope whined with a shriek. "I don't want to! It's wrinkly and ugly, if it touches me, I'll die! I bet Athena never touched those!"
"Well, she's a goddess," Adamos said. "She didn't need to, but I'm sure Zeuz did to create it." He raised the lizard up to her face, but Penelope cowered away.
"No! I'll make extra Lemon Lady's papa! Just get it away from me!"
"Penelope," Adamos said in a stern tone. "It's an experience, just hold it once. Then you don't have to touch it ever again!"
Penelope physically sulked—slowly, she got closer to her father, a pout set firm on her lips as she shut her eyes tightly, silently shrieking when Adamos placed the small gecko in her hand.
Quickly, she opened one eye only, curiously peeking at the still lizard in her hand. She grinned, opening both of her eyes. "Hey! It's not eating me!"
Adamos chuckled. "Of course it's not!"
"Wow," Penelope stared at the gecko in awe as she lifted her other hand and touched it, giggling slightly. "He's cute!" She turned to her father, "Can I keep him?"
"Sure."
"I'll name it..." Penelope's forehead creased. "Dimalope!"
"Dimalope?"
"Yes! It's perfect!"
The television crackled as the screen turned black again, Avery's eyes widening in disappointment at the end of the video.
"W-What happened?"
Adamos shrugged. "Penelope lost the gecko a day later, but in reality I had to put it back in the forest, she was caging it in her bamboo plant that Nonna had given her, and Dimalope was eating the stems."
"So—if a picture is worth a thousand words then a film can tell the story of a lifetime," Adamos explained. "I know you don't know much about Penelope—she tends to hide these videos because she doesn't want you to think anything bad of her."
Avery's eyes softened. "That was her bedroom?"
"The one we went into?" Adamos saw Avery nod. "Yeah, thought you'd been in there already."
"No, Penelope likes to take me outside the house," Avery shook his head.
"Ah," Adamos grinned, slapping his knees as he stood up. "Well, you should thank those adventures because if it wasn't for them you'd never be in love."
He turned to leave. "I'd hurry up and confess. Time is tickling, Avery. There's only a week left. Good luck."
Good luck, Avery needed it.
author's note
I hit my 20k goal today!!!
I'm so excited and happy!
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