The Rock

Whoever is unsympathetic to the fate of Sisyphus has probably never worked in gastronomy. The daily morning grind of cleaning, washing and organizing every little detail never fails to resemble a massive rock. Every evening, the boulder rolls swiftly backwards before the vicious cycle repeats in reverse. Everything has to be thoroughly washed before resuming its place inside the restaurant, ready to be used the next day.

It’s hard not to get accidentally philosophical working in a Greek restaurant. But it’s even harder when you’re the owner of a rather shabby, bankrupt establishment, and the rock of Sisyphus was never fated to be your punishment. You were just unlucky enough to have a Greek ex-wife that dumped you for someone much younger, leaving “everything” behind. And because everything sounds way too broad, let us break it down. Gina left:

A rundown house

A passive-aggressive husband

Two children who were far from adorable

A set of chipped porcelain dolls in various sizes of undeniable ugliness

Three smelly piles of unwashed clothes

An aerobics videotape

A poorly run Greek restaurant named Sisyphus

Bob learned to accept the situation as the new normal. Inwardly he was glad. They had married too young, he always thought. He first washed, dried and folded her remaining clothes and then donated them to a charity of some sort. Then he gifted the gymnastics VHS to a waitress named Nicky and with light heart he smashed the doll collection one day when his daughters weren’t home. Gina would still pass by and take the kids for a weekend from time to time, but her visits were never consistent. The house was still rundown, and the restaurant in a permanent state of havoc.

Bob remarried. This move was praised by friends and relatives in the beginning, till they met his bride to be. Tina was a replica of Gina. There were too many uncanny coincidences. Not just the ridiculously similar names or the same high-waisted, washed-out jeans and satin shirts they both wore. It was their hair, make-up, and personalities. The red flags were everywhere, but no one said a thing. Three more kids were added to the ever growing family. Two daughters from Tina’s first marriage and a little boy that was born prematurely. The years dragged on. Bob was becoming indifferent, spending more and more time drinking after work, and Tina was as restless as a caged tigress. Bob was fifty-five when Tina asked for a divorce. This time he was dumped for an older man. The kids decided to stay with Bob as they did not want to part from their siblings. The house remained in shambles as nobody had bothered to repair a thing in over thirty years and the restaurant was still on the brink of bankruptcy.

Bob hadn’t changed much either. Just a bit thicker round the waist and slightly shortsighted. He still ran the restaurant with his usual inefficiency, making his daughters cover shifts when the staff didn’t show up for work. He was also a little relieved that Tina, too, had left him. This time he did not have to get rid of anything other than the occasional blues and Tina’s power yoga DVD. But truth be told, he was getting older. Some well-meaning friends proposed a cruise as a remedy, sensing an impending depression. He hesitated for a few months before trading in his grimy apron for a crisp Hawaiian shirt. After all, it was a gift from his children.

He packed his bags, and off he went. The sea breeze and all-inclusive watered-down cocktails garnished with fresh divorcées boosted his confidence. In just a few days he had transformed from a moody shop owner to a middle aged social butterfly. He was a new man with a new life blossoming before him. He smiled broadly as a woman in her mid-forties approached him. She was wearing high-waisted, washed out jeans. “Hi, my name is Mina,” she said pleasantly. But Bob could barely hear her over the deafening sound of a rolling boulder coming from somewhere near.