He headed for the hills of Crete when his daughter was 16 days old, changed his phone number, eliminated his email account, and instructed his family members to have no more communication with me. Our child, as it turned out, was not blond she was not healthy, and the only person running was her dad.
I’ll take responsibility for child care! I’ll give the child whatever she needs, vowed the father: “And when all the naysayers see that healthy little blond child running over the cobblestone, they’ll eat their words.” Almost everybody else sounded the red alert: “You can’t have a kid in such unstable circumstances!” they said-which only hardened our determination. The fact that I continued my pregnancy was a reckless romantic gesture: It was my Greek partner, not I, who wanted a child and who had implored me to keep this one in spite of our tempestuous relationship and slender means.
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