I walk aimlessly for an hour or so, the sharp whites and blues of the town taking on a warm orange glow as the sun sets west of the village. I’m not really sure where I’m going or what I’m going to do. I just know that I’m afraid to slow down.

It’s over, I keep telling myself. It’s done. I no longer have a boyfriend, a significant other, a lover. John is no longer a part of my life. I’m stunned by the speed of the events. I can’t stop seeing his face, the tears spilling from his eyes.

At some point I concede defeat to the blisters forming on my feet, and find my way back to the Carbonaki. By the time I get there, Kat and Sin are getting ready to go out for the night, music blaring from my CD player.

“What happened to you?” Sin asks, looking alarmed at my tear-stained face and puffy red eyes. She crosses the room and turns off the music.

I slump on my bed and lie back. “I broke up with John.”

“Whoa!” I hear Kat say. “What happened?”

I sit up again and look at them. “He proposed first, and then we broke up.”

“Jesus,” Sin says.

Kat sinks on the bed across from me. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

I shake my head. “He had this beautiful ring. I don’t know if he brought it with him or bought it here, but he said he wanted to get married, and he promised he would change. He looked so hopeful, holding out this box.” I stop for a breath.

“What did you do? What did you say?” Kat asks.

“I actually thought about it. I thought maybe things could change, maybe I could be happy with John for the rest of my life. Then I realized I wasn’t in love with him the way you should be when you get engaged.”

“Did you tell him that?” Sin says.

“I just told him we weren’t right together, and nothing was going to change that.”

“How did he take it?”

“He’s crushed, and I’m crushed that I did it to him.”

“So where is he?” Kat looks around, as if John might walk in the door at any minute.

“He’s down at the dock waiting for the boat to Athens. He won’t stay the night, and he won’t let me wait with him.”

“Wow.” Sin shakes her head, gazing at me as if she can’t tear her eyes away. “How do you feel?”

“Terrible,” I say. “Terrible that I had to make him so sad, and terrible because I’m going to miss him so much. But…” I flop back on the bed again, my mind reeling.

“But what?” Kat says.

“It’s just that I knew it had to happen. I knew it was right to break up.”

“Well, that’s the most important thing,” Kat says. “You have to be sure.”

“I’m sure, but if you could have seen his face—” I start crying again. “It just killed me.”

They fuss over me, and I give them the War and Peace version of John’s proposal. We discuss the issue from every possible angle and the conclusion is always the same: You did the right thing.

“So, girlfriend,” Sin says after the thirtieth rehashing. “What do you want to do tonight? What will make you feel better?” She tousles my hair.

“I can’t go to the bars. I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, then how about I get a bottle of wine, and we’ll sit by the pool?” Kat says.

“That sounds perfect, but I have to make a call first.”

It’s the crack of dawn in Chicago, yet my father answers the phone with a chipper, “Rich Evers!”

“Dad,” I say. “It’s me, Casey.”

“Casey, honey. Are you still in Europe? Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I say, arranging myself on a hard wooden chair in the lobby of the Carbonaki. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me, sweetie,” he says, and then adds, after a moment, “I was worried when I got your message.”

“Are you having an affair?” I blurt out. I just have to know. A young couple that is passing by me looks alarmed as I say this, and they stick to the other side of the hall.

“An affair?” he says, sounding amused. “Of course not. Who would I have an affair with?”

“Little Miss What’s-Her-Bucket. Your assistant.”

“Ms. Hamlin?” He sounds entertained at the thought. “No, Casey. I’m not having an affair. Not with Ms. Hamlin or anyone else.”

“Then why are you and Mom getting a divorce?”

I hear him exhale loudly, as if buying himself some time to compose an answer. “Your mother and I haven’t had much of a relationship for years. Nothing could make it better, and I decided that life is too short to live like that.”

“A bit selfish, isn’t it?” I ask, thinking of my mother by herself in the big rambling house.

“Well, yes. I suppose it is selfish, but Casey, I don’t know that you can understand what it’s like to be in your fifties and realize that the majority of your life has passed you by, and you barely noticed it.”

“What are you talking about? You have a great job, great family, lots of friends.”

“Yes.” He paused. “But there are so many other things I wanted for my life, too.”

“Like what?” I ask, surprised by his words. He’s always seemed like the content suburban family man. Or perhaps I never really looked past that.

“Well, did you know that I wanted to be a musician?”

“I know you played guitar in college.” In my mind, I see a black-and-white photo of my dad at a university party, guitar in hand, a group of coeds in front of him.

“I did play back then, and I always wanted to be in a real band and to write music. Then I got the job at the bank, and I married your mother, and we had kids. I kept thinking I would get back to it, that I would pick it up again, but the years flew by, and I never seemed to have the time.”

“I didn’t know you were so unhappy,” I say, the bitterness creeping back into my voice.

“Not unhappy. Just maybe unfulfilled.” He exhales loudly again. “Listen, I know you’re not asking for any words of wisdom from your old man, but if I could give you any advice it would be this—make all your minutes count, every last one of them. And start now because, honey, while the possibilities may seem endless, the time sure isn’t.”

“Geez, Dad, I didn’t know you were such a poet,” I joke, unaccustomed to his tone. He doesn’t respond. “Guess what?” I say then, feeling the urge to confide. “There’s another breakup to report.”

“What do you mean?”

“I broke up with John tonight.”

“Tonight? I thought you were on that trip with your girlfriends.”

I explain about John’s arrival, as well as his subsequent proposal and departure.

“So,” I say, when I’ve finished the tale, “maybe we could start hitting the bars on Rush Street together.”

My father laughs, sounding relieved to hear my attempt at humor, but it stops abruptly. “Are you all right, hon?”

“I’m going to be fine. It had to happen.”

“Yes,” my father says. “I know what you mean.”

The hall phone starts to make clicking noises and a Greek woman’s voice comes on, telling me, I assume, to deposit more money.

“I gotta go, Dad,” I say.

“Okay, sweetie. Call me when you get home. And Casey, please know that I will always take care of your mother.”

“I know you will.”

“And you make sure you take care of you.” He sounds a little choked up, but it could be the connection.

Kat, Lindsey and I sit at the edge of the hotel’s pool, drinking wine out of the bottle.

“My dad says he’s not having an affair,” I tell them.

“Do you believe him?” Sin says.

I think about this for a moment. “I do. I think I was looking for a reason for their split, something concrete and obvious, but it turns out it’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean?” Kat takes a sip of the red wine, her chestnut hair falling over her shoulders as she does so. “If it’s not an affair, then why?”

“He said they haven’t had a good relationship for a long time, which is true. He didn’t see it getting any better, and wants more out of life than that.”

“Sort of like you and John,” Kat says.

Her words startle me. I’m not like my parents. Yet she’s right. I want more from a relationship than I could ever get from John.

We spend the rest of the night talking, talking and talking, about everything and nothing. We decide to leave for Athens the next morning and spend our last few days there, seeing the Acropolis and the rest of the sights.

Later, despite the infusion of wine, I’m unable to sleep. My mind whirs over the last few weeks and spins on to those upcoming. Soon I’ll be practicing law, living a nine-to-five existence, like you’re suppose to when you grow up. It’s not the hours that bother me, though. It’s the drudgery of the law. A science of semantics, of crossing t’s and dotting i’s, built one case on top of another. But maybe it will be more than that, I tell myself. Surely it will be more exciting, more fulfilling.

I want to sleep, but I keep hearing the note of regret in my father’s voice as he described hopes lost. Don’t let that happen to me, I pray to whatever God might be tuning in, please don’t let that happen to me.