Anna: Transcript One
“Where art thou, my beloved Son,
Where art thou, worse to me than dead?”
William Wordsworth
…. and God oh God this cannot be happening, no, please God no, let it be a dream… but I know it isn’t. His words “you’re not my mother any more… I hate you,” scream and echo incessantly round my brain like the merciless slashing of a knife, then the cruel click of the phone and when I redial, no answer.
“I know you’re there, please please come to the phone”, but instead the machine cuts in “Hi, you’ve reached four seven seven…” so I fumble for my keys and rush outside to the car, my heart thumping, my whole body trembling like someone’s thrown a rope round my neck and I’m strangling… I fumble my way into the car and switch on the ignition.
The radio cuts in with a song, a slow, smirking Country and Western love song, “that sweet feelin’ in ma heart”… I struggle to switch the damn thing off, can’t even do that, my hand shaking so. You’ll see me and we’ll make it better won’t we Alan my darling boy, some things change, yes, the love of a man for a woman for a man but not this, oh God no, not a child’s love for his mother, my darling child, angry with me now, yes, and frightened, sure, but it’ll pass, it’s got to: please God make it pass!
I don’t have far to go. At the lights, a logging truck pulls up beside me. The driver winds down his window. His smirking face is unshaven and there’s gum tumbling around in his open mouth like a loose, misshapen tooth.
“Pardon me ma’am, but I have a question?” Suddenly he explodes into convulsive laughter and can hardly get his words out. “Your place or… ” An ignorant, wicked laugh he has, and then I notice his buddy in the cab beside him is laughing too, his shrieky smoker’s voice whistling high-pitched as he pounds obsessively on the dashboard, his whole body shuddering in sheer perverse delight. I wind up my window. Damn them! Damn Alessandro! Damn all those damned…
I reach the apartment block, park the car just anywhere and rush to the elevator, pounding maniacally on the Up button, waiting for those stubborn metallic doors to shudder apart – malicious inertia, come on, come on! Once inside, I see a pale woman staring at me from the vandalised graffiti-daubed mirror, frightened, frightening, fretting as the elevator doors close tantalisingly slowly and it heaves itself begrudgingly upwards.
Normally I would be putting on lipstick now, perhaps a dab of blush to make myself up nice, but not today, what’s the… Finally there, I ring Alessandro’s bell, tears welling up into my eyes: I don’t deserve this! Oh God my child my Father in Heaven please help me now!
The door opens. Praying it’ll be Alan, I start to crouch down, my arms opening in expectation, but instead there’s Alessandro standing tall, his muscular arms folded tightly, his stubborn, stocky and hairy body blocking my way, his sneering face an affirmation of my worst fears.
Healing by Deceit, The Story of Alan Palladino Description:
When Anna, a talented cellist, left her volatile husband, Alessandro, he stole the one thing that mattered to her: her nine-year-old son, Alan. For ten years Anna had no contact with Alan, as Alessandro’s hatred and lies poisoned the boy against her. Alan grew up thinking his mother had abandoned him. At nineteen he’s unusually jaded, but he doesn’t understand why.
The unexpected discovery of a family secret inspires Anna’s second husband and great love, Aaron, to attempt to reignite the tender relationship Anna and Alan once shared. But Aaron’s plan seems suspect because it’s ultimately based on deceit.
He poses as a therapist and infiltrates Alan’s deepest feelings about his mother and his parents’ divorce. As Alan opens up to Aaron, he doesn’t realize he’s confessing his true emotions to a man he hates. Is Aaron’s plan justified? Will his risk pay off in the healing of old wounds or only drive Alan and Anna further apart?
Healing by Deceit is a gorgeous novel written to the tune of classical music. Author Walter S. Reiter’s intricately woven story forces readers to contemplate whether it’s appropriate, and sometimes even necessary, to lie in the pursuit of good.
