They were wedded inside of a fortnight
A short, strange story. Katerina is a spinster at twenty-seven (perish the thought!). She is attending a dance, and for each person she dances with she makes a note. Captain Nikolaos Topouzis met her father recently and learned of her; in Budapest, where they meet, they dance a cotillion.
Marriage comes. Then, children. Once a year for five years. Each time the Captain returns from his long and dangerous voyages he stays long enought to ‘put her in the family way’ and then pushes off again.
Time passes. The children grow. Katarina engages in lacework – never crochet, which is for housemaids and nannies – and later, embroidery. The house has no windows, which lets in the sea air. Katerina doesn’t necessarily brood, but it’s unclear whether she is happy, and unclear still whether this is a requirement for her. Not everyone needs happiness.
Later, she drips sea water into her eyes, stinging them. Far away, on a ship in the Black Sea, her husband’s eyes sting. Later still, his eyesight deteriates and doctors are unable to diagnose a cause.
The story is strange. There is no indication prior to the ending that there might be some kind of supernatural bond between the two of them, or that sea water can cause later blindness. None. It’s the kind of ending that encourages a re-read, more carefully this time, to see what the reader may have missed. But nothing. It is, except for that, a reasonably ordinary (and quite short!) short story.
Is Katarina unhappy? Does it matter. She clearly comes into her own after having children. The clothes she created for herself bulge ‘with the fullness of her flesh’. She is fertile, we know, but also, it seems, hungry. And with a husband away for most of the year there is little to be done to sate this hunger.
Nikolaidou’s story raises more questions than it answers. It in fact answers very little. Both the Captain and his wife are basically unknowns to us – we learn more about her preference for clothing than we do anything else, and of him we learn nothing beyond his occupation, and that he wanted his wife to live in a house without windows.
And there it is, perhaps. The key to the story. Strangeness begets strangeness, and when a person is forced to live on the cusp of the world, with the elements coming in, or not, as they please, then perhaps an unseemly connection with the sea can be made, and in that space a force of malice is created.
Houses Without Windows is a short story by Greek writer Sophia Nikolaidou
|Title||Houses Without Windows|