But now I can no longer locate the scent of her on you, Elesa.

I can see you, and in you I can see her. But in grief and in loss, I have found that the eyes are not enough. They can see cloth. They can see skin. They cannot bring a body back to you the way that a scent can.

In the room above the butcher shop, I closed the windows to keep out the odors of Lefkada town. The blood smells of the butcher shop I could not keep out. They seeped up from below. I tied a handkerchief moistened with lavender water around my neck, like a bib, in order to lessen the stench.

My blessed first had brought with him other changes as well. My ankles were lost in a stocking of fat and skin. My nose was a plump shallot bulb. My earlobes lengthened. My fingers and toes thickened. My hair fell out in clumps. I had discarded my corset months ago. In Lefkada town, I was covering my swollen bosom and rounded belly with a shawl that Sióra Gazi had given me as a farewell gift. She chose one that was also the color of ripened wheat but with a fringe of midnight black. When the butcher’s wife delivered my meals, she made it a point to ask if I was warm enough. With all the windows shut, the room was stifling and hot, and she knew it.

The wife’s evening meals were forgettable and included surprisingly little meat, but worst were the breakfasts, which every day were exactly the same. A dish of yogurt, two rusks, and a small bowl of quince spoon sweets. I was already missing the cherries of Cerigo. Soon enough, the butcher’s wife caught the dissatisfaction on my face and asked if the breakfast was not to my liking. “Perhaps you will need an egg,” she said, as she stared at my belly, barely covered by the drape of my shawl. Then she repeated what Kanella had said to me on the overlook, “You should eat in your condition.”

The wife must have complained to her butcher husband, because by the end of that week Charles had moved me into my own house, which soon came with it the company of Old Iota and then my blessed Giorgio. My first night in that house I could not sleep. I lay in bed and swirled my hands around the full moon inside of me. I thought about the Theotokos, and whether She had touched Herself in the same way, Her body a mystery to Her. She was the only Mother I had ever known. In my condition, I felt closer to Her. I prayed for Her forgiveness. I prayed that She would welcome my blessed one into Her arms. As dawn showed itself in the windows, I heard the Angels of Cerigo, but their voices were low. I could not tell whether they were whispering words of assurances to me or taunts.