Peter's Principle

The smell of flowers was powerful on the air when he strode upwards after parking the car. She was back by the kitchen fire when he entered.

"Bamja?" she asked. Will you have some dinner?

The grandmother arrived before he could answer. They were introduced and, for a while, exchanged some pleasantries. He couldn't, however, sustain a conversation with the old woman. He was more interested in looking at the girl, her face, and the swell of her breasts. Grandmother noticed this, as they usually do, and smiled. They all had a bowl of soup and some bread and rice.

"Will you not stay?" the old woman asked. Peter gestured vaguely in reply.

"We have a spare room," the girl chimed in, indicating a doorway to the left.

"Larissa will help if you want something brought from the car."

"And may be can help me in repairing it too," he said mischievously, and couldn't figure out if the girl comprehended the hint.

Together they went out into the night. The girl did not use the track and went down to the stream. Night, the sound of water, the stars, smell of flowers mingling with the smell of fresh hay oozing from a body lately grown into womanhood - all began to attack Peter fiercely. He swung her around to face him. For a moment she clung to him awkwardly as she stumbled on a stone, and then broke away. Peter followed her, but she only increased her pace. Then he sensed her in the dark and held her hand.

"Balie aiu?" What is the matter? It was his turn to ask when he felt the tears on her cheek.

Not able to figure out why she cried, he let go her hand, strolled back to the car, lighted a cigarette and, reclining his shoulders against the door, drew in a deep puff of smoke. Presently he knew she was behind him. Then her hand faltered on his shoulder, softly.

"Please forgive me and try to understand," her voice trembled as she said. "If you were always to stay it would be different. But knowing you would go away, please understand."

"Kiss me once," she continued after a time, "but only if it is a holy thing to do. Tomorrow is Sunday and I shall go to the Church and may be God will understand."

Peter kissed her. It was without passion, a cold and holy kiss. Then, silently, she held him by the hand and dragged him back to the house. That night he couldn't sleep. He even thought of driving away, quietly.

It was about four in the morning when he felt very thirsty, opened the door, and softly entered the kitchen. He drank all the water that was in the jug. But his eyes kept straying towards the door of the room above the stairs. Then he thought of slipping away quietly to the car. But he couldn't decide which way to go and stood hesitatingly near the kitchen door for a long time. He began to retrace his steps towards his own room but, on a sudden impulse, turned and moved towards the staircase. Then he heard the creak of a chair, glanced into the darkness at the foot of the stairs and saw the face of the old woman.

"Are you there?" she asked softly.

"Yes."

"Can you not sleep?"

"No."

"Sit down, son." He sat on the stool next to her.

"Give me your hand, son." He obeyed her.

"What can I say to you, son?" she went on. "Go now and take her in your arms? And then, after it's over? I do not know. She hasn't slept either. A lonely girl meets a real person, in flesh and blood. What am I to say? Who am I to stop? God made man and woman for each other. It's a sin to keep them separate under the same roof. I won't be able to stop if you went to her room now, or if she came down to you on her own."