Читать книгу Doubts From The Past - Antonio De Vito - Страница 7

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Stacie grabbed the note stuck to the mirror and moments later her black eyes were clouded with tears that she could not hold back for the fact that once again Sam had more courage than her.

Yes, whereas for weeks Stacie kept wondering whether it was right to continue to drag the story that way, Sam instantly had decided to up and leave.

She had to sit down to try to tidy up the ideas that appeared confused like never before. All the certainties she had in her brain were crumbling like a sand castle.

Sam was not what it looked like, a weak man dominated by his indecision and fears. After all he had not thought a second before doing his suitcase and dumping her there alone in front of a note.

“I better get a move on,

Sam”.

Suddenly the sound of a telephone took Stacie’s petrified eyes off that note and almost running she rushed to the mobile to grab the phone.

“Hey, Stacie, are you all right? It’s all OK?”

“Mark, are you?” She had not even looked at the clock because of anxiety.

“Yes, who did you want to be? Don’t you know what time it is?”

“Sorry, I slept through my alarm, I’ll be soon, you’ll see” and she hung up.

But despite the call which should give Stacie a move on, she remained at least another half hour staring at that note while a confused series of images were flashing before her eyes and she was feeling mixed sensations of anger and remorse.

She tried to shake off the ballast and, wearing the first things she had found, she headed the office where Mark was waiting for her furious.

“This is not the way to repay those who gave you an opportunity like the one I gave you,” Mark thundered, slamming his fists on the table.

“I know I’m a little late but you know that’s not me” Stacie tried to justify herself.

“A little late!!!I am astonished. An hour ago the Bigalow hearing has begun and I had to send Peter who does not even know who is Bigalow!” Mark was beside himself.

Stacie tried to pull herself together and managed to say a sentence worthy of the attorney Stacie Scott that Mark had hired two years earlier:

“I reach him in court, in any case it was a cause already won, don’t worry.”

She had managed to lie with all her might, however, giving to who stood facing her the feeling to have matters into her own hands. That was her greatest quality, or she thought this until a few hours earlier, that is, until Sam's note started poking holes in all her certainties.

Sam arrived at the airport a little dormant but convinced of what he was doing. He had brought with him a few things, only the need for a day trip and not more. This meant that whatever had been the destination he had chosen it would have been one way. At the airport he took a look at the destinations of the the red-eye flights and decided to buy a ticket to New York, for no reason in particular.

Or maybe there was a reason to go to New York. Do what Stacie had not yet been able to do and maybe, who knows when, show her that he could live up to her and perhaps one day meet her again.

It would be worth doing almost 500 miles. He felt that the decision was fairer than ever.

The next day Sam was around New York: Park Avenue, Madison Avenue; after all, he thought, it hasn't been so hard. The best, however, was yet to come. Sam’s main anguish was about to reappear in his mind.

“Get a move on”

He kept telling himself like a Hail Mary.

He walked down Madison Av., looking around with a bewildered air, given the wild crowd on the sidewalks; he could not find a good reason for being so urgent to reach a taxi or subway stop. Yet, one of the reasons why Sam had left Cleveland and now he was right there in the midst of those people who barely avoided him, as if it were a simple obstacle on the road to whom to be careful not to trip, was to measure himself and find out for itself if he could withstand the lifestyle that Stacie loved and which she was so much aiming for.

Why a man should measure himself within an organized chaos like New York and cannot do it in Cleveland or anywhere else in the world, this was another torment that Sam was dragging on since the first angry discussions with Stacie. Unfortunately, the sense of frustration that Stacie was instilling in him ordered him to react that way, even though in his heart he was not entirely convinced it was the right way. After all he could not be convinced that leaving Stacie after seven years of passion could be the right choice, no matter what was the real reason for that choice.

While these and other thoughts overlapped in Sam's head, one of the many people who at 8am crowded the sidewalks of Madison Av. bumped into Sam causing him to fall on his knee. He had to stand with his left hand to the ground to avoid falling ruinously. The person who "invested” him, was a beautiful young girl in her 20s, with brown long hair. Unlike Sam, after the impact she had turned on herself and had fallen ruinously on the ground letting fly a bunch of sheets.

While Sam was getting up slowly and tried to figure out who had hit him, the girl was trying to get up with difficulty amid general indifference.

Sam then held her by the arm and said:

“I'll help you to collect those papers but then you tell me why you are going so fast in front of a cup of coffee.”

The girl looked at her watch, reflected a moment and then said:

“Come on, let’s collect everything if you do not mind, then let's have coffee and who cares.”

The prevailing confusion made way for euphoria. Sam was not excited by the fact of going to a bar with a girl, but for the fact that this girl had looked at her watch and had blown it.

“Come on, let's start from the beginning. I’m Carla, I'm 26, I'm of Italian descent, and today I had to deliver these important documents in the office for a lawsuit but, perhaps, it was not worthwhile. It’s your turn.”

“I am Sam, yesterday I decided to leave Cleveland to come in New York and after a few hours I already think it was worth it.”

“Hey, I do not know why but I feel I can say that I agree with you. Did you come today? Are you staying with some friends or relatives?” Carla asked.

“No, actually, do you know a good place to stay not too far from the center?” Sam asked without even knowing why he necessarily wanted to be so close to downtown. After all he did not have a damn thing to do and nowhere to go, so downtown or suburbs of New York... it didn’t matter.

“Look, Sam, I don't know where you're from, but here if you do damage, then you must be forgiven. How about if you are my guest for a few nights? I live 6 or 7 miles from here. It is not very close, but...”

“Okay, okay, but now let’s drink this coffee otherwise it cools.” Sam's reply was peremptory.

Carla did not know how to ask Sam to stay a while over her, nor even was sure she had made a mistake to invite a stranger of whom she only knew he was coming from Cleveland and maybe it was not even true.

But it went well, they drank coffee and they make a date to meet at 6pm outside that bar.