Stolen Lives E-Book

Hiam Mondini

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 297

Beschreibung

In a New York hospital a person, who never went missing, awakens after a dreadful event. All memories of a previous life are gone. By pure coincidence the closest confidant the victim will have, is a world renowned actor. He accompanies the victim on the journey to re-discover a life forgotten. This story is a gripping tale of people in search of truth, love, friendship and brutal honesty.

Leseprobe

written on a Blackberry Classic

for Miriam

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Outroduction

INTRODUCTION

I can’t believe it! The blue cross I’ve been dreaming about so long is there on the stick! I never could have imagined how happy this makes me feel! I could scream, cry, cheer and squeal all at the same time! My heart is beating like crazy and I feel sick as a dog.

What now? What should I do? I have to tell my husband, but how? I could buy baby clothes and give them to him as a present. Or I could leave him a message with a photo of the test. What is my boss going to say, will I be able to keep my job? A nanny? Day care... oh god, strangers around my children? I hope everything is alright with the baby. Did I start taking folic acid soon enough? What if it has Down Syndrome, will he want to keep it? I would never have an abortion, but would I be able to raise a child alone? We’ve waited so long, I can’t have anything go wrong.

Somebody knocks at the door and yells, “Hey, how long are you going to be in there? Other people have to go, too!” I have forgotten where I am in all the excitement. I gather everything up, apologize to the women who are waiting, and hurry out of the cafe in the big Swiss city, but where to first?

CHAPTER 1

Waves smash powerfully against the posts of the pier. It stinks of musty sand, dead fish and seagull shit. The sea is angry and loud, the clouds hurry across the sky, and the joggers on the Coney Island beach have pulled their hoods tight around their faces to protect them from the cold.

Frank is among the people on the beach today. He hasn’t done any exercise in a long while and the holidays have left their mark on his waistline. Freja, his Bordeaux mastiff with a Danish first name, has been unhappy with him ever since he reduced his long beach runs to a minimum. He has made a New Year’s resolution for the sake of both of them. Since turning 50 he hasn’t managed to stick to it, but this year is going to be different!

“Freja! Come here, old girl! Where have you gotten to? Freja, no games in this weather! Freja!” He hears whimpering and whining, the barking of an excited dog then Freja runs round his legs, jumps up at him, almost knocks him over, moves away again and disappears. “Freja, what has gotten into you? Get back here, now!”

Frank can hardly see anything in the dark below the pier. Then the acrid stink hits him and he almost throws up. What the hell is under there? It is making Freja nervous and upset, which isn’t a good sign, because thankfully his pet doesn’t like dead animals...

“911. What’s your emergency?”

CHAPTER 2

It must be intuition. Just as I pick up my cell phone to call Rob, it hums and I open the message, “Let’s meet at 7 at the Italian restaurant! If I’m late, just get me a calzone and we’ll treat ourselves to an Amarone della Valpolicella 2010 ;-). Love and miss U!”

How deeply in love we are. After seven years, he instinctively knows when we have something special to celebrate. The small Italian place was the first restaurant we ever went to together, and we often go back. We have celebrated our first date, our first anniversary, our second anniversary, Rob’s promotion, my father’s death, Rob’s next promotion and all our other anniversaries with a meal at that Italian restaurant.

I take the rest of the day off. There isn’t much to do except boring paperwork and filing, anyway. The next stage of my career is now in the lap of the gods, whatever happens. With a kid, will I ever get promoted again? Or am I going to become one of the army of part-time moms, putting off my potential to a later date? I can’t imagine doing any courses or training... I have to take things step by step, not get ahead of myself... my thoughts are in a whirl... I have to calm down, go home, and make myself pretty for Rob!

***

The little black dress? The long red one? Or more formal, with trousers and a blouse? ...I decide for a sexy look. My body is going to balloon over the coming months anyway, but I doubt I’ll experience that

super-sexy phase. So I enjoy prettifying myself, for me and my husband. I squeeze myself into some Spanx, trying to get my rolls of fat tucked away so I can look okay in a clingy dress. I have never been one of those women with a super tight stomach, perky boobs and long, shapely legs. I’m more the short type, with skinny ankles, round ass, spare tire and breasts that sag a little if they aren’t held up in a bra. Thankfully, my Arab roots on my mother’s side give me a hint of the exotic. I have big, dark green eyes, black, curly hair that is often unruly, full lips, and light mocha skin.

In the shower, I use a lot of shower gel, I have to keep smelling good for a long time tonight. I stroke my belly and imagine how I'm going to look in just a few months, how my child will develop, and what a wonderful father Rob will be. He’s Italian and he has always wanted to have a big family. Roberto Garreffa, from Rome, raised Catholic, and enormously passionate about everything he does. How is he going to react when I tell him in less than an hour that his dreams of a family are going to come true? I have to hold back my tears as I imagine it, otherwise my makeup will be spoiled... which may well happen later, but now I have to get going. I put on a coat and shoes and... the phone starts ringing... the telephone starts ringing? Who could it be, at this time of day? Nobody even knows I’m at home. The office would try to get me on my cell. Why ring on the landline? Strange, I wonder whether I should even pick up. I let it go to voicemail while I fasten my coat buttons and drape a scarf round my neck. There’s a beep.

“You’ve reached Steiner and Garreffa. We could be anywhere, but we aren’t home! Leave a message after the beep and we’ll call you back!” *beep*

“Hello, Mrs. Steiner, it’s Dr. Dubois, please call me as soon as you can on my emergency number, [phone].” He hangs up. My blood suddenly runs cold, my belly twists into a knot, and I go weak at the knees... My bag slips from my fingers as I stare in fear at the phone, almost as if it might be about to attack me.

CHAPTER 3

Dogs aren’t allowed at the hospital so Frank has left Freja with his son. He quickly hurries across the underground parking garage to the lift. Why the hell is it called underground parking if it is a huge building alongside the main building? Or did Frank just mishear what the parking garage is really called? Obviously it should just be called the parking garage, but he is sure the nurse at reception in the ER said, “Please park in the underground parking garage, not outside the ER!” In fact she didn’t say it, she yelled it right in his face. She most likely hadn’t been having the best of days. He can’t imagine what her and her colleagues must see at a big-city ER, day in, day out. What Frank has seen today is enough to last him a lifetime!

He hurries to the main entrance and is about to squeeze past a mass of people when he feels a hand on his shoulder that holds him back with a firm grip, “Frank? Frank Conley? Is that really you? Hey man, can I get a picture with you? I can’t believe it! Frank Conley!” Before Frank can tear himself away from the stranger’s grip he gets crushed between two men who stink of alcohol, stale cigarettes, and weed. Their fat, drunken fingers are fumbling to switch on selfie mode on their cell phones, then hold them out at shoulder height. Phone camera flashes, hoots of joy, a “Hey man, cool!” Frank manages to avoid the high fives as he makes his escape.

“Sorry guys, gotta go, have fun!” At the last moment, he lunges through the slowly closing doors into Coney Island Hospital, New York.

“Good evening, I’m Frank Conley, I was here before about the accident, can you tell me who I can speak to about it?” The woman behind the counter glances at Frank from behind her reading glasses while she slowly chews her gum. She casually takes off the glasses and lets them swing on their silver chain as she stands up and a wide grin spreads across her old but youthfully made-up face.

“Frank Conley, I could just die! Holy shit... sorry... what an honor, you at my counter, Sir! My god, you look even better in the flesh than in the papers or on the TV! Please excuse my language, I’m getting a little flustered!”

Frank closes his eyes for a fraction of a second, takes a deep breath, and replies calmly in his deep baritone voice, “I’m glad me being here is cheering you up. If I wasn’t so beside myself because of the accident I would love to stay and talk longer. So can I ask you again to tell me who I can speak to about this? There was an accident this afternoon at Coney Island Beach.”

The receptionist touches Frank’s hand, which is resting on the counter. She puts her glasses back on her nose and winks at him as she settles back into her comfortable chair and her fingers go back to her keyboard. “Not just a pretty face,” she says, “but a real gentleman, too! Let’s go Susie, that’s me by the way.” She is already grinning and she winks again in Frank’s direction. “Let’s see if we can rustle up some information to put Frank’s mind at rest. Ah, yes, here it is: intensive care unit ‘A’. Are you a relative, Frank?” Susie looks at him above her glasses. Frank bites his lower lip and is about to answer, but Susie grabs a notepad, scribbles on it, places it on the counter and looks at Frank, again over her glasses. “Leslie, the skinny little white-haired lady in the blue skirt suit at the intensive care unit owes old Susie a coffee. She can bring it down to me when you get there. I’ll just need an autograph!” Frank again feels Susie’s brief, soft touch on his hand, which is now trembling as it picks up the piece of paper.

Frank manages to breathe out a barely audible, “THANK YOU Susie.” Then he hurries to the elevator, which is empty, gets in and pushes the button for the fourth floor. His eyes close along with the doors and he whispers, “Oh god, let this nightmare be over! I want to be able to forget these images! Who would do something like this? It has to have been animals! No, beasts!” *ding* The door opens and Frank has the feeling he has arrived at an empty floor. Someone comes over, no, she floats over. The nurse’s shoes must be made out of clouds. She glides past Frank, giving him a benign smile as she goes, then two seconds later she turns on her cloud and floats back before stopping right in front of him.

She smiles at him and asks softly, “Are you looking for anyone in particular?” Frank opens his shaking hand right in front of her face and lets Susie’s note fall into the narrow, wiry hand of the woman on the cloud. She takes the small piece of paper, unfolds it as if it is a piece of cotton wool and reads Susie’s handwriting. She slowly turns her cloud shoes in the direction of the cold, sterile and deathly silent corridor. She stands beside Frank, takes his arm almost tenderly and tells him in the same gentle voice, “I’ll go with you, Leslie is just over there, by the drugs.” She squeezes Frank’s arm a little as she accompanies him in the direction of the medicine, and of Leslie. The place he hopes he will soon get all the answers to the most unbelievable questions of his life!

“Leslie,” the floating woman says, “this gentleman has been sent by Susie.” She smiles at him for the last time today as she glides out into the corridor. Leslie is a skinny, white-haired woman, just as Susie had described, and she gives Frank a confused look, her mouth puckered.

“This is intensive care. Who are you looking for?” She quietly closes the filing cabinet drawer that she has just placed a form in.

“There was an accident today,” Frank whispers, hardly able to catch his breath, “on Coney Island Beach. I reported it. I followed the ambulance here but then I had to take my dog home. Can you tell me if the person that was brought here is okay?”

Leslie looks round, as if making sure nobody is there to overhear what she is about to say. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you anything unless you are a family member. I can see that Susie wants to do you a favor, for whatever reason, and I still owe her a coffee. She’s like an elephant, she never forgets. So let me take you back to the elevator, and you can go back down to Susie.” Frank’s head slumps and he sighs in disappointment. Leslie takes him by the arm, just as the gliding lady had done before, making him wonder it if was part of their training, and takes him in the direction of the elevator. Frank glances at her, disappointed and confused. “Hey, I’m sure after all this excitement you want a glass of water, right?” she says sympathetically as she fills a cup with water from the cooler. Just then, a door opens and a doctor in a white coat appears in the doorway.

“Leslie, are you busy? I need a hand here.” Leslie nods at Frank and turns to look at the doctor, who is still standing in the doorway.

“I’m not busy, I can help,” she says, as she gives Frank the cup of water and goes over to the open door. The doctor has already gone back inside the room, and Leslie gives Frank a meaningful look as she follows. Frank knows what she is saying with that look. He quickly drinks one, two, three gulps from the cup and his hand, which had started to steady, begins to shake again. Behind this door, that is what she is telling him! The person involved in the accident from Coney Island beach is in the room behind this door.

While he is trying to work out how he can get more information, the curtain on the other side of the room’s window is pulled open. Leslie is allowing him to see into the room, the entire room. The doctor opens the door again, and Frank hears him say to Leslie, “Keep this one under close observation. Keep checking the monitors, and make a note of the readings every 15 minutes. Call me if there is any change at all.” He quickly hurries off along the corridor and disappears through another door. It is only now, as Frank watches him go, that he notices some of the curtains of the rooms are open. How did he miss that? He slowly empties the cup in loud gulps, drops it in the basket next to the cooler and now glides, just like the first lady he met, through intensive care to room INT7. Leslie looks at him through the glass and shrugs her shoulders doubtfully then slowly moves away from the bed to allow him to see the person lying there.

CHAPTER 4

Some Dadular Swiss magazines, including Vogue, are lying in front of me on the waiting room’s coffee table like dead flies. I pour myself a glass of water and look down on the busy street. So many people hurrying to meetings, doing their shopping and catching the bus. Every one of them is carrying round their own personal destiny. I wonder if any of them are the same as mine? I can’t imagine that they are, no I refuse to imagine it. I watch a young woman on the other side of the street as she gazes at the new collection from Swarovski. There is no way that she has any problems! Who would stop to look at jewelry if they had real problems? She has to be fine. And what about that man in a suit, looking through some documents as he waits for a tram. He looks annoyed, judging by the way he keeps shaking his head. So the man has business problems? Can they really be so bad that they spoil his entire day? What am I saying, day! His life? It’s just a job! It’s not life and death! Worry about important things!

I’m suddenly ashamed about being angry at these two people! It’s not their fault that my life has suddenly changed so drastically. I have a child inside me, the first living fruit of the love between Rob and me... or had? No it can’t end this way! I can not accept it and I will not accept it. Why me? Why us? Why Rob? He would be such a great father and all I want is to be the mother of his child. I want to experience the ups and downs of family life with him, to get through them as our love grows stronger. Together! All three of us, or four, or five, or even six. Rob has always dreamed about a big table, surrounded by his offspring! All the children and grandchildren round a table! A house full of life, with joy and passion. Why in hell can’t he have that, can’t we have that? Why must the suffering come now, before we have even begun? What did we do wrong, to have this happen to us. Why wasn't I able to avoid this fate? Or was it more Rob's fate?

Dammit, when is Dr. Dubois going to come and get me, I can’t stand these people and their carefree lives a second longer! Carefree or fake? Maybe they are just pretending everything is okay. Like in a play. Deep inside sad and dejected but on the surface the mask of perfection! I have never liked people like that. People are just people, so why not be true to your emotions and let it show when life does you wrong. Sure, it’s not cool, but is that so important? Are you really soft if you allow yourself to have feelings, and to show them? Or is that what makes a strong personality, or at least makes you authentic! I never liked philosophy when I was at university, the ifs, ands and buts... simple facts, what actually happened, and obvious consequences were always easier to understand for me... but even these sometimes aren’t enough. A person is incredible and exciting, but only if they dare to be a real person. Not a puppet on a string, not a gray fish in a stream, not a wannabe star, which means dying inside. Simply a person. Is that really so difficult?

“Mrs. Steiner, please.” Dr. Dubois is standing at the entrance to the waiting room, face serious, as he motions me to follow him. Is this really what I want? Do I even want to go in there, to see my future, or a future I can’t even imagine? I think seriously about opening the window and jumping down into the mass of people. I don’t want to hear this, I don’t want to see it! Can’t the ground just open up and swallow me? A single thought flashes through my confused brain. Come on Jasmin, you have to pinch yourself, this has to be a nightmare, the worst nightmare of all time! Come on! Then you’ll wake up, Rob is sleeping peacefully beside you and your joy will return! Not really believing it, I take the thought seriously enough to secretly pinch myself on the hip. “Mrs. Steiner, follow me please.” Dr. Dubois gives me a very professional look. He knows exactly how close I am to losing my mind! He has known us for seven years, leading us through the jungle of medicine, spending even more time with us over the last four years as we tried for a family, and that dream has finally come true, but it could also be snuffed out in an instant.

“I’m sorry, I can’t, please, I don’t want to see that. I have to go, I want to go home!”

He is a very experienced doctor with a shock of white hair, big strong hands and a calm voice. He takes me by the hand and looks me in the eye, his gaze earnest but reassuring. His eyes tell me I have to get through this! “Come on, I’m here with you, we’ll look at it together and then we’ll talk it through afterwards. You don’t have to do this alone, I’ll help you!” he says, his words comforting me. I find his words very calming right now, so why do I just want to slap him? But I don’t stop him as he leads me into the adjoining room.

CHAPTER 5

“Sir? Excuse me, Sir?” Frank is grabbed roughly by the arm.

He looks at the man in the white coat in confusion. “What?”

“I asked you if you are a relative of the victim?” the doctor asks, face serious, obviously not minded to tolerate any excuses.

“No, I’m not, I just wanted...” Frank hasn’t finished his sentence before the tall doctor, though he is not as tall as Frank, escorts him by the arm to the elevator. But why in hell do they call it an elevator if it is about to bring Frank down?

“You are not allowed to be here if you aren’t a family member. You should go to reception. They will be happy to help you to find the patient you’re looking for.” Before Frank knows what is happening, he’s back in the same empty elevator as just five minutes before. Five minutes that have felt like an eternity to him, with images of earlier in the day going through his mind over and over. ‘They’ll be happy to help you...’ Susie! He has to find Susie! She’ll help him!

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Ding! Second floor! The door opens and a couple, obviously grieving, join Frank in the elevator. The woman has a Kleenex to her nose, but she can’t hold back her tears. The man has his arm round her shoulders, obviously trying to be strong, to be a shoulder to cry on. But he too is unable to hide his grief. They nod to him and he nods in sympathy. Let’s go, c’mon, Frank thinks, even though the grief in the elevator hangs as heavy as a dark cloud. At least his victim is alive! Victim! Yes, alive! Frank knows that, even though he couldn’t see if it was a man or a woman, but his short-sighted, 58-year-old eyes could at least tell him that the victim was alive! The monitor beside the bed gave a regular beep, and he is no doctor but he guessed it must be a heartbeat. It was the constant beating of a heart, he is sure. There were lots of tubes, too, and that, along with the fact that the doctor said victim, and that they were still in a bed in intensive care, made him think the person was alive! The victim that Freja had found and he had identified as human, even if the sight was unimaginable!

*Ding* Ground floor. At last. Frank waits patiently for the grieving couple to leave the elevator, seemingly moving in slow motion, before hurrying by them, he has to get to Susie, right away. “Susie? Excuse me, Sir? Where’s Susie?” Frank feels the blood draining from his face! This can’t be happening. He is standing at reception, where Susie had been sitting with her reading glasses and mischievous smile, but now an older man with a mass of fair hair and a security guard uniform that is far too tight is sitting there.

“What was that?” he asks, obviously only now tearing his attention away from the game of solitaire he is playing on Susie’s computer.

“I’m looking for Susie, the nice woman who was here at reception just now.”

The man looks at Frank in astonishment, “Susie was just here? I took over from her over an hour ago, and she wanted to get home right away to tell her kids about an action hero, or something. No idea what’s gotten into her today, I’ve never seen her leave in such a hurry. Maybe she came back because she forgot something?” Frank wonders who would put a man like this on a hospital front desk. What was his interview like? Hello, you are applying for a position on the security night shift. Do you have experience of gossiping? Do you like to sit down? Do you enjoy playing solitaire? Would you like to tell strangers about your life and ask inappropriate questions? Then you’re exactly the person we’re looking for! Congratulations, the job’s yours. We don’t have clothes in your size, but don’t worry everyone looks good in a uniform!

Frank quickly forces these thoughts to one side and leans against Susie’s counter as a shudder suddenly goes down his back... did he say an hour? He took over from Susie over an hour ago? Frank was in intensive care for over an hour? What was he doing for all that time? Was he looking at the victim for over an hour, watching the heartbeat on the monitor? “Can you tell me when Susie will be back?” The security guard seems miffed that Frank doesn’t want his help.

“Why do you need her? Is there anything I can help you with?” he asks, seeming almost hurt. Frank tries to get out of the situation as gracefully as he can.

“I’m sure you can give me any information I want about the Coney Island Hospital. But Susie wanted something from me, and I promised I would get it for her. I didn’t bring it with me today, I’m getting forgetful in my old age. I’d like to bring it to her tomorrow and I’d be much obliged if you would tell me when she’ll be back, so I can surprise her with it when she starts her shift!” The solitaire-playing man softens.

“Getting old has its problems... I’ve been playing this game for months and I still haven’t managed to get to the next level. Let me find the schedule and I’ll tell you when you can surprise Susie! Is it something pretty?” His small eyes gaze at Frank, eager to hear about the gift. He has learned how to convincingly fake a coughing fit as an actor, and this skill saves him from continuing the ridiculous conversation, and solitaire man looks in a drawer for the time plan. Frank has to admit that at least this man is trying to help, and he is ashamed of having to lie to him. He silently congratulates the security guard on getting hired. “Ah yes, here it is, are you okay? Feeling better? Do you want a glass of water?” Frank shakes his head. “Oookkkkaaaay... Susie isn’t here tomorrow, but she’s back the day after. Her shift starts at nine. It looks like the lady will have to wait another day for her surprise. Or do you want to bring it in tomorrow, I can take it to her at home before my shift! She doesn’t live far away. She comes in on foot, every day. That’s what you call keeping fit, right? Although, you're very powerfully built, man!” Frank smiles tiredly at the man and pulls himself together one last time for this day.

“That’s very kind of you! A very good idea! Or I could take it to her house myself! You know, I haven’t seen those boys for a long time! What are their names again? ...damn... My old brain...”

“You mean Fred and John Jr? They’re quite a pair, those two! They keep old Susie on her toes! But she’s doing a good job with them! Suddenly having to raise two teenagers without a father, and working her fingers to the bone here, too, for the money we get! Hats off to her!”

“That’s it! Fred and John Jr! I should surprise her at home, they’ll get quite a kick out of it, do they still live in the same...” Frank is quickly trying to think of an address, when the telephone beside Susie’s desk rings. Solitaire man lifts his index finger in front of Frank’s face to tell him to wait a moment, and picks up. “Help desk! … no, I’m sorry, Mrs. Manders isn’t here anymore... Yes... okay... I’d be happy to... bye.” He puts the phone down, turns to Frank, but Frank has gone.

CHAPTER 6

We can do it! A mother and child can do anything, if they have to. Five percent! That’s not nothing! Five percent chance of survival, that’s what he said... I have to see the glass as half full, or even more than half, I will get through this ordeal!

What is five percent, anyway, when we are talking about life and death? I’d say it’s everything! How dare Dr. Dubois be so pessimistic? Our whole family is now relying on JUST THESE five percent! It’s not like I have any other option! I have always felt that settling scores by the odds will shake your confidence... even make you lose heart! I mean, if you prefer to believe in statistics from a text book rather than human willpower, the will to win or the ability to win, then good luck to you! And we are winners. We Steiners are winners! What would my father say, if he was still alive? He’d say, ‘Sure, sure, these smart people with all their studies think they can explain their lives from books, instead of going out in the open air and looking at nature with all its wonders, where you can breathe in the meaning of life! See how many hours they waste studying, while true knowledge is waiting for them outside their door, as wonderful as your mother...’ I miss my father. Right now, in this situation, he would take me by the hand, lay me on his chest and say, ‘Jasmin, as long as you feel this pulse, you are alive! Don’t waste time doing pointless things. Live!’

And how would Roberto react? He would also choose to see the bright side, even if it was only five percent. He would encourage me to get through with it, to fight for the three of us and be strong! Roberto, I’ll do that for us! Sleep well habibi, it will all be okay! I gently stroke Roberto’s cheek, his chin and kiss his lips. He looks so incredibly relaxed and carefree. His bright face on the white pillows looks like fine porcelain. I’m always asking myself how an Italian could have such fair skin. I wonder whether his family is really as pure blooded as they like to believe. But there is no arguing with Mama Garreffa. Questioning her or what she does would certainly mean war. And who wants that with their mother-in-law... or should it be ‘mother-laying-down-the-law?’ I’ll be back soon habibi... I mean we will!

I leave the room, I have to get outside into the fresh air, to reality, to seek it, to gaze at it. The darkness strokes my face like a cool sea breeze... when this is all over, we have to go to the beach. We have always loved the seaside! Its many faces, all the aromas and its calm and wild sides. We love the surface of the sea and its depths. The sea is a guest at all our celebrations, or at least a visitor. If we go to New York, Paris or Barcelona instead of Sardinia, the Maldives or Mauritius, then we will at least have to visit the beach on the way back. It will all be over eventually, this whole damn nightmare.

I go a little way along the street, looking at all the lights in the windows, I hear the roar of the freeway in the distance and I follow the narrow gravel path to the creek. I hear it gurgling and think about the song my father once sang to us, Row, row, row your boat. Gently down the stream... a candle for a soul to be saved. I take three floating candles from my coat pocket and carefully light them, one after another, lay them gently on the slowly flowing stream and softly say a prayer. A prayer of supplication, a prayer of thanks, a prayer seeking help. A candle for every soul, a prayer for every heart that is still beating among our family that is not yet complete. I watch the candles float away, as my tears at last start to come!