Then Phaon saw me. Hurriedly, he set down the coconut and left the stall and came toward me, smiling, wiping his fingers on his shorts. In the way he spoke, in the way he stood, I sensed how he had missed me, other tell-tales in his voice and hands. And I knew, as we talked, that he sensed my longing as well: it brought us closer that we made no secret of our feelings.
A parrot jabbered atop its cage and a monkey squealed and battered at its bronze ring, until its owner brought bananas. People crowded us, elbowing with baskets of fruit and shrimp. Phaon and I walked under palm-ceilinged aisles, dust sifting around us, light finning through stalls, over herbs, nuts, wines and cheeses...the smells made me hungry. Together we ate Cappian cheese, tangy to tongue and nose.
“It never tasted better out at sea,” he said.
“I hope everything tastes better now.”
“It does...yes, I’m home again!”
Exekias ghosted behind me, face alert, her hands pushing me along; so we moved, past the pottery lads, one of them glazing a bowl between his calloused knees, the color as bright as the sliced oranges beside him ready for eating.
“Do you suppose you and I can sail again?” he asked, as we watched, seeing ourselves instead of the pottery boys. “There should be time...soon...when I’m unloaded.”
I caught his half question, half statement.
“If I were invited, I’d consider.”
My teasing brought a flash from him and laughter and he moved back a little, nodding agreeably.