Aniela

info

full name: Aniela Graciele Stavropoulos
Birthdate: May 8, 1988 || 30
Birthplace: Kos, Greece
Occupation: Owner of Athena Restaurant
Residence: 22 Clark St.
Status: dancing in the moonlight

Facts

• • • Born in Kos, Greece and raised there until coming to St. Augustine at the age of 8. She is the oldest of 7 children and values her siblings/family above everything else in her life. She is fiercely protective and will always have their backs no matter what.

• • • Has always had an interest in cooking, went to culinary school after graduation and worked in a well-known St. Augustine restaurant until just after her 27th birthday. After a particularly harrowing run-in with her difficult boss, she was told she could either fall in line or leave and see how well she could do on her own. She chose the latter option and opened her own restaurant which is small but now thriving.

• • • Was engaged to a man she had been dating for several years but when he had trouble accepting the priority she gave to her work, she realized that their relationship was not going to be successful. She called off the engagement on the spot and hasn't had a serious relationship since.

Connections

Ezio - younger brother
Moisis - younger brother
Tario - younger brother
Delphina - younger sister

memories

...

“Let go, Dad!”

She was all arms and legs that summer, still growing into the length of her body and trying to figure out how to make it work to her advantage. Balance was not an easy companion, especially not when she sat on the seat of her first real bicycle determined to make it work all on her own. Her father’s hands rested on the back of the seat, holding her steady. She was ready to do it but he wasn’t ready to give up protecting his little girl.

She pedaled faster as if she were trying to outrun him. If he couldn’t keep up than he would have no choice but to let her fly on her own. He was barely jogging beside her but with the wind tugging at the long tresses that spilled out from underneath her helmet, Ani felt speed like she had never experienced in her life. This was her first taste of adrenaline and she wanted more of it. She wanted it all to herself.

“Afíste to, Bampá!”

Greek always came more easily in her frustration, it was a comfortable tongue - the thing that slipped in when her guard was down. She resisted the urge to let go of the handlebars and try to remove his grip herself. Only the focus on her task stopped her, though her small body wriggled as if she might somehow shake him free. A grunt of aggravation ripped from her chest and she pumped her legs harder still in protest against what she felt was still holding her back from freedom.

And then it happened. She could feel the weight of his grip lighten as he released he hold on her bike and somehow she felt lighter too. She gripped her bike so hard that her knuckles shone white through her skin and her eyes focused only on the single wheel in front of her. It wobbled, slightly at first and then more - jerking back and forth under her inexperienced hands until she felt more like she was barely holding on than in control. The bike leaned to one side and she tried desperately to counter by shifting her weight to the other but that only furthered the swerve.

Her eyes were closed when she finally fell, a sign of her resignation to the impact. It had been impossible to slow the momentum of the bike from how far she had pushed it and the pavement was red hot against her skin as she skidded across it to a final stop. For a moment she lay there in a tangle of bone and skin and metal, trying to regain her bearings over the pounding of her father’s running footsteps and the presence of him dropping to one knee at her side. He spoke her name with a kind of panic she didn’t recognize and for some reason it drew from her more fury than comfort.

“Bampá, let go.”

She jerked her shoulder free from where he had reached to rest his hand and hurried to get to her feet. Her calf was scraped raw and so was the metal of her bike, though neither of those things seemed to register on Ani’s radar. Her father’s protests went unheard as she swung her uninjured leg over the bike again and tried to kick off. This time she made it only a few yards before her feet were pounding to the ground on either side of the bike to stop her from falling. Still, she tried again. Her father stood watching, his muscles twitching with the instinct to swoop in and save his little girl from her own stubborn mistakes.

He never got his hands on her bike again and he took it in stride when his wife raised hell about the state of their daughter upon their return from the adventure. She wanted to know how he could have let such a thing happen and he could only shake his head and remind his wife of the kind of child they were raising - headstrong, determined, resilient. Their daughter would spend the summer covered in scabs and bruises but by fall when she was tearing out of their driveway on that bike, as worse for the wear as she was, he would remember the moment exactly when he’d known it was time to let go.

I don't care if it's done, just get it out there!

Ani stands defiant, face glazed red from the heat of the open grill beside her and from the anger of being ordered to serve something that is less than her best. But she is not in charge here and she is never left to forget it. The head chef, in title if not in actual practice, insists that the food be served fast because there are parties waiting and because patrons will pay their checks whether they're satisfied or not.

And why aren't they satisfied? Because although the crowds have grown, the kitchen staff has not. Ani is doing the work of three people and even this brief conversation is setting her further and further behind. Around her there is the constant hiss and sizzle and pop of more pressing things that should be demanding her attention and yet she is singularly focused on the man who stands before her, over her almost. Their eyes lock in what suddenly feels like a fierce competition.

Aniela

She cringes inwardly at the sound of her name, not only dripping with condescension but jagged with the edge of her boss's harsh American accent. It lacks the lilting curve of her native tongue and highlights the fact that in close to two years of working together, he has still not learned how to say it. Her gaze leaves his face and travels down over the pristine white jacket he wears when he glides through the dining room of the restaurant that is his namesake.

Ani's own clothes are soaked with sweat and grease and god knows what else she'll shower off when she finally gets home at the end of this infinite shift. A lifetime passes in a few seconds of silence and her blood reaches its boiling point. She has been biting her tongue for far too long. Her hands are on her apron strings before she realizes what she is doing. She shoves the filthy black fabric into his chest without a word and leaves him spluttering in fury and disbelief.

You think you could do better? You don't have what it takes.

There's more to the tirade but those are the only words that Ani hears as the kitchen door swings shut behind her and she stalks out of the restaurant through the front door, ignoring the curious eyes that follow her. Running a business has never even crossed her mind. Or, well, it has but she's a running list of reasons why it's not the right time to consider it. She's 26 years old, walking out on her first real job. The odds are stacked against her in every way. And yet the only thought on her mind as she bursts outside and finally takes a breath of fresh night air is - watch me.

I have to go, there's a problem at the restaurant.

She can feel his disappointment before he even turns to look at her but the effect it used to have is dulled now. Ani braces herself for the fight and, without fail, it comes.

The restaurant has been open almost a year now, much less than the time she has loved him. He'd been her biggest supporter until he realized the time and the toll it would take on the woman he loved. At first, she'd felt guilty but even that had worn down over time. He'd proposed as a way to tie her down, to shift her priorities and when it hadn't worked he had resorted to bitterness and resentment at not only her success but her commitment to something other than him.

I don't want a wife who...

Who what? Who has something to stand on her own for?

That's it, isn't it? He wants her to need him and that will never be the case. She loves him and he wants him but Aniela will never need anyone but herself.

I can't marry you.

It's a statement, frank and even, not the slightest hint of bitterness or irrationality to it. She looks at him and the realization hits her like flipping a switch. This isn't what she wants anymore and she isn't going through with it.

She indulges his pleas for a few days but never once argues and never once considers changing her mind. It's like having her eyes opened for the first time. She can't unsee what has already been seen and the damage is done. Ani is done.

The last time she'll ever see him, she takes off the ring and places it gently on the table, holding his gaze for a moment as her fingers linger on the thin band of metal before drawing slowly away. And then she can no longer look at his face. Her chest constricts but she is already beginning to compartmentalize the loss as she turns to walk away. By morning she will tell her family with a straight face that it is over. There will never be a proper explanation or a mourning period or a late night desire to call and beg the man she loves to take her back. Ani has made her choice and it is resolute.

He looked so small. That’s what struck her the most as she pulled up a chair beside her father’s hospital bed. They’d all been by his side for days on end, the whole family moving in like they owned the place. This room had always felt ominous but that was easier to ignore when it was filled with the chatter of her siblings, a sound that could make even the ends of the Earth feel more like home.

There was none of that now; it was just the two of them. Each of his children would get these moments as time slipped away from them all too fast. Ani tried to manage a smile as she looked down at the man who had always seemed to her to be larger than life. He wasn’t afraid, he’d told them that, but she was. Ani was terrified of what it would be like to try and live without him. She didn’t want to know.

For now he was still here, smaller and weaker but able to meet her eyes with the warm recognition that she feared losing the most. He spoke her name and mumbled words in Greek that brought tears to her eyes despite her best attempts to hide them. She knew what he was doing, trying to say goodbye.

“Bumpá, no.”

It did her no favors to deny the inevitable but she wrapped her fingers around his delicate hand as if somehow she could keep him just by refusing to let him go. He didn’t have the strength to pull away but he just barely shook his head and the gesture was not lost on her as an admonishment for her stubbornness. She would regret not taking this opportunity while she still had it. He didn’t want to leave her this way.

Behind her, the door swung open and Ani jumped. There was a rustle of apology for interrupting and then silence again but it had been reminder enough that they were running out of time. Ani raised her father’s hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his paper thin skin and closing her eyes. She tried to think of the right thing to say but the same two words ran a cadence through her mind.

“I can’t…”

Her father closed his fingers around hers in a gentle squeeze and fixed her with a look that conveyed everything that he was too tired to speak out loud. He didn’t have to tell her that he knew she was strong, that she would find her way to make it though not only this but whatever life had in store for her. He didn’t have to say that she made him proud and that he knew she always would, even after he was gone. Even in his prime, he had never been a man of many words and yet somehow he always managed to make himself heard.

“You can.”

With that the struggle was over and, as was the case with this man more than anybody else, Ani allowed it to end with his final word. The tears that fell were slow and quiet. She told him that she loved him and he murmured back the same. She watched his eyes grow heavy with exhaustion and moments later her mother broke the silence that had settled over them with a gentle knock at the door

Ani readily relinquished the seat beside her father’s bed. She had no way of knowing it would be the last time that she ever heard him speak but as she let his hand slip from her own to fall against the bedsheet at his side, she felt an uncomfortable pull in the pit of her stomach, as if she somehow knew that this would be the moment of finally letting him go.