The Art of Becoming Homeless by Sara Alexi Page A

too much …’ This is her opportunity to lead into offering some compensation, but he rejoins with:
    ‘ The only hope I had was to finish building a room, so my parents would no longer need to sleep on daybeds.’ He picks some tobacco from his tongue.
    Michelle tries to digest this information. She is not sure what it means, what a daybed is in Greece. Nothing comes to mind. It seems to imply they do not have a bedroom, but surely that cannot be right.
    ‘Well, what I was going to say was, I would like to recompense you for your loss.’
    He looks at her as if she has switched languages to Chinese.
    ‘Oh, sorry, I mean buy you another donkey.’
    He looks at the floor and shakes his head. ‘No,’ he mutters.
    ‘ Sorry?’
    ‘ Why would you buy me a donkey?’
    ‘ Well, I was on her when …’ She cannot finish the sentence.
    He shrugs and adjusts Suzi ’s bridle, running his hand under the nosepiece so it fits without chafing.
    ‘ You left her in my hands, you trusted me.’
    ‘ No, I left her in your boyfriend’s hands. So is it his fault?’ Michelle begins to protest, but realises Dino not being her boyfriend is not the point of the matter. ‘Or maybe it is the fault of the dimos for not paving the path, or maybe mine for renting her out to you and not going with you to keep her safe.’
    Michelle finds his logic incomprehensible. She had the loan of the donkey, so it was clearly her fault, her responsibility. She is not sure how to explain to him the reasons why this is so, on his terms.
    He drops his cigarette end and grinds it to nothing with the toe of his cowboy boot.
    ‘ If you had died, who would buy me a donkey? Because you are lucky enough to live you must buy a donkey? This is strange thinking.’ With this he has finished the conversation.
    Michelle has not.
    ‘In England my job is to see who is at fault. I am a lawyer.’
    ‘ Ah, dikigoros .’ He nods as if all has become clear. Michelle bristles.
    ‘ When things happen, it is someone’s fault, and that person is responsible for making good any losses.’
    ‘ When things happen it is not always someone’s fault. Last winter a rock fell onto one of my goats. Whose fault is that? If you had been sitting on that goat would it have been your fault?’ He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead he asks a question. ‘So what is the difference between rocks falling up or falling down?’
    ‘ In my work, someone is always to blame,’ Michelle defends limply.
    ‘ It is unfortunate work; you must never feel satisfied,’ Yanni replies.
    Stroking Suzi ’s neck, Michelle struggles as pictures of Dolly swim in her mind’s eye. She feels guilty, but what could she have done?
    ‘ Yanni, I would like to buy you a donkey. I have pictures in my head of the accident.’ She stresses the word ‘accident’. ‘It would make me feel better if I could give you a gift.’ Yanni’s face remains unchanged. ‘Please,’ she adds. He still does not respond, but his eyes flicker. He is thinking.
    ‘ One minute.’ Nipping back to the café, she uses one of Costas’ receipts to write her phone number and email address on the back, but then crosses out the email address as she imagines it will be of little use to a donkey man on this island. She writes Juliet’s number instead, as a backup.
    ‘ Here, this is a number in England where you can reach me, and I have also put a Greek number where you can leave a message. Please, please think about it.’
    A rather large man sweating in tracksuit bottoms and a white vest rolls up to Yanni and babbles in Greek.
    ‘I have a job, I must go.’ Yanni says.
    ‘ Please call me,’ Michelle implores. He looks her in the eye for just longer than is comfortable before turning on his heel. Michelle watches him go, and as she is about to give up hope, he raises a hand and gives a stiff wave without turning around.
    The Greeks are growing in mystery. Their way of seeing is at such a tangent. All the people Michelle can