Cruel Summer (6 page)

And the funny thing is, she said all of that as though I haven’t already memorized their schedules by now. I mean, every day it’s pretty much the same thing—work in the morning, break at two for the beach, come home and eat a lunch made of whatever Tassos happened to catch and whatever’s ripe in Tally’s garden, then a quick shower before heading back to work for a few more hours, and then home for a late dinner where they usually invite a bunch of friends.

And even though it might sound like an okay life (I mean, if you really like to keep it simple, and back to basics, and enjoy a high tolerance for quiet moments with lots of boredom thrown in), and even though I sometimes relent and go to the beach with them, for the last two days, I’ve chosen not to.

I mean, what’s the point?

What’s the point of anything?

Because the fact is:

So, in a nutshell, that is why I’m giving up.

I mean, I tried to make the best of it, I tried to keep in touch by creating a cute blog, sending e-mails, and writing letters and postcards so no one would forget me, but in the end, it just didn’t work.

Because everyone did forget me.

Because they never really cared about me in the first place.

So rather than continue to beat my head against the wall, I’ve decided to spend the rest of my summer sitting right here in my little white room, emerging only for the occasional meal and bathroom break. I mean, if they want to put me in jail, then fine, I’ll do the time.

But come August 31, I
WILL
be on that plane.

And I
WILL
return to Orange County.

Where my completely crummy life
WILL
still be waiting for me.

Cruel Summer

July 1

Okay, I know I said this blog was history since no one is reading it anyway, but the thing is, keeping this blog alive almost feels like it’s keeping
ME
alive.

Seriously.

It’s like, not only does it give me somewhere to go every day, but it also makes me feel like I have some kind of purpose.

Even if that purpose is just wasting my time, cribbing a blog that no one cares enough to read. But since I’m actually kind of sick of just sitting in my room, I figured—
What the hey?
I’ll just keep going.

Even if I am the only one who knows it exists.

Even if I am the only who cares.

So anyway, back to business:

That’s right, I adopted a kitten and he (or she, I haven’t, um, really checked things out that thoroughly yet) is even more adorable in person. Seriously! Though I am really hoping it turns out to be a she because I named her/him/it Holly after Holly Golightly in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
. Partly because I totally love that movie/book, and partly because she’s all black with a little white streak across her forehead—um, do cats have foreheads?

Whatever.

Anyway, she totally reminds me of Audrey Hepburn in the movie, because Audrey always dressed in those cute little black dresses, not to mention how she had a white streak too.

She was also really, really skinny, and when I found Holly she was really, really skinny too. And seemed like she needed protecting—just like Holly in both the book and movie versions!

The only thing is, I haven’t actually told Tally and Tassos yet. Mostly because I know it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do since I’m leaving by the end of the summer anyway (
YIPEE!!
). But still, Holly was all alone when I found her (him?), just sitting in the middle of the dirt road, looking lost, and lonely and completely afraid. But the moment I knelt down, she ran right up and gazed at me with those big, sad, hungry blue eyes, and when she started rubbing against my leg and purring, well, obviously adoption was my only choice.

I mean, had I just left her there to fend for herself, there’s a very good chance she never would’ve made it to the end of the day. But even if the best I can give her is a nice, happy, safe, and comfortable three months, then that may just be three more months than she otherwise would’ve gotten.

Besides, everything has a beginning, middle, and end. So when it’s time to say good-bye, I’ll be ready.

But for now, I totally plan to tell Tally and Tassos tonight—so wish me luck!

Even though I know I’m the only one reading this!

Colby

Cruel Summer

Blog Comments:

Anonymous said:

Good to see you are back to blogging again.

From someone who has read all of your posts.

ColbyCat said:

Mom, is this you???

I mean, I know it’s you so just quit with the mysterious act. It’s so dumb.

Anonymous said:

I’m definitely not your mom.

Though I’m sorry you think that I’m dumb.

ColbyCat said:

Um, okay. It’s not that I think you’re actually dumb—whoever you are—it’s just that I think the whole ANONYMOUS thing is kind of—well—dumb.

Anonymous said:

Thank you for clearing that up. Though for now, I still choose to remain ANONYMOUS, even though I know you think that it’s dumb.

P.S. I like your cat.

Colby’s Journal for Desperate Times for Things She Can’t Possibly Post in Her Blog Now That She Knows Mysterious Someone Is Reading It

July 2

Okay, I know it was only recently that I was whining and going on and on about how no one was reading my blog. Well now, apparently somebody is. Only I don’t know who, since they signed in under ANONYMOUS. And even though I seriously considered restricting all anonymous comments, in the end I just couldn’t do it. Mostly because it’d be like booting out your best (and only!) customer—not unlike what Petros often does to me.

And it’s weird how I originally thought I wanted lots of readers and comments, but now I’m not so sure. I mean, now that I know someone is reading it, I’m no longer sure what to write. I guess if I knew WHO was reading it, then it might make it easier. Like, if it’s my mom or dad, then I could use my blog for maximum effect, and make my life sound so lonely and pathetic they’d have to be completely inhuman (which I’m beginning to think they are) not to feel awful and guilty enough to let me come home.

But if it’s Levi, then obviously the pathetic angle would be all wrong. I mean, I don’t want to come off as ecstatic or anything (because then he might think that things are too good here, and that I actually don’t need him to visit me—which would be so completely false!). But I don’t want to sound quite so bored and depressed either.

I guess the perfect balance is to sound a little bored, but only because I’m just way too cool to even be here in the first place. (Thus making my blog an experiment in fiction!)

And if it’s Amanda, then I definitely need to make it sound like I’m totally partying and hanging with the cool group, so she won’t start regretting that she ever started talking to me in the first place (even though she probably/obviously does).

See how complicated this has become now that I have a subscriber?

I swear, it was a whole lot easier when I was the only reader.

On another note, Tally and Tassos are totally cool with Holly. In fact, not only do they think she’s totally adorable, but Tally has kind of taken over the care and maintenance of her, buying her a collar and a litter box and feeding her some organic stuff that’s supposed to build a better kitty. And even though I’m really happy and relieved that they love her, at the same time all of that kindness and support makes me feel pretty bad about not telling them sooner. I mean, coming home from the café only to find Tally down on her hands and knees, wiping a puddle of cat pee from the floor definitely was not the best way to introduce our latest addition.

But still, I guess it all worked out in the end, and they’re totally on board with keeping the name Holly, even though we recently discovered that she is actually a HE.

So because of all that, I’ve decided to make more of an effort to go to the beach, pitch in, and hang out with them. I mean, they were so cool about Holly, and just about everything else I’ve dumped on them, like my endless moping, silent treatment, and mood swings, that I kind of feel obligated to at least pretend like I’m having some fun (even though I’m not).

I guess I’m also starting to realize just how much I’m actually intruding on them, what a huge imposition I am. I mean, here my aunt moved all the way across the ocean to some tiny, obscure Greek island, probably for the sole purpose of getting away from everything, including my mom, my dad, my grandma, and me, only to get stuck with me for almost three months.

I mean, even though their life may be a little too
ORGANIC
for my tastes, a little too
SLOW, LOW ON EXCITEMENT,
and definitely
NOTHING
I’d ever choose for myself, obviously it works for them.

And just as they have it all worked out, and are firmly entrenched in their happy place, I show up, and pretty much pout, slam doors, barely talk for weeks on end, and then top it all off by dragging home a stray cat that likes to pee on the floor.

And while I’m on the subject (of Tally, not cat pee), let me just say that I’m also kind of annoyed by how my parents always used to make fun of her. I mean, okay, so she’s a little quirky, and granted she’s definitely more than a little weird in some ways, but really, what’s the big deal?

Because she’s also really nice, and generous, and understanding, and kind, not to mention how she opened her door to me when my parents closed theirs. And from the first day on she made it clear that she’s there for me if I need her, but that she’ll stay out of my way if I don’t. And the only rule of the house is that we respect each other as well as ourselves.

That’s it!

No curfew.

No chores.

No rules for the sake of having rules.

So yeah, maybe she is the opposite of my parents, but I’m beginning to think that’s not such a bad thing…

Anyway, tomorrow, Tassos is supposed to show me how to catch an octopus with my bare hands! Apparently this is quite difficult to master, even though he makes it look easy. But I’m thinking I might just stick with swimming behind and holding the bag, because I’ve gotten pretty good at that. And I’m not so sure I need to add Experienced Octopus Catcher to my resume.

Cruel Summer

July 4

So apparently the Greeks don’t celebrate the Fourth of July. And even though you’re probably thinking—duh!—let me just explain how it’s always been my favorite holiday, which means BBQs and fireworks have been such a big, important part of every single one of my summers, for as far back as I can remember, that it feels really weird (and sad) not to be celebrating it in the same way today.

Though before you go thinking I’m a completely clueless dork, let me just explain that I really do get why the Greeks don’t exactly care about our independence from the Brits. Though understanding their reasons doesn’t do much to lessen my current case of extreme homesickness. Because I can only imagine all of the awesome beach and backyard BBQs that my friends are all going to, and that I’m totally missing out on. Not to mention how I always used to buy a new bikini, flip-flops, and cover-up to wear to those parties, but after checking out the shops here, and seeing how they’re stocked with totally lame merchandise, that’s so
NOT
going to happen!

But still, Tally and Tassos are planning to leave work early so they can throw a big party. And, I admit, when they first told me about it, I thought they were doing it for my benefit, so of course I was all—
oh, you don’t have to, blah, blah, blah.
But they just laughed and explained how they do it every year as my aunt is not the only American living here (yup, there are a few other crazies as well!) so they’re going to invite a bunch of friends over to BBQ and celebrate, though they did warn me there won’t be any fireworks.