“No, no. God, please no, don’t let this happen.” Paolo’s face turned white. He wanted to vomit. He cried, “No, please no.” He closed his eyes but nothing came to his mind. He ran over to the television.
“News alert. Pandemonium in the streets of Detroit as the Army National Guard is mobilized. We have been unable to get a news feed out of Detroit for the past five minutes. It’s as if the city no longer exists.” Wretched, Paolo cried, “No, no, no, damn it.”
“We have just been notified the president will address the nation. Let’s go to the White House.”
The president stood before the cameras. “My fellow countrymen, I stand before you this day in sadness. Over the last two months, our American intelligence agencies, collaborating with our counterparts in Russia, have been tracking a terrorist group intent on detonating nuclear devices in our countries. I have been notified today by the Russian premier that a nuclear explosion has occurred in the outskirts of the Ural Mountains.”
A Secret Service agent handed the president a piece of paper. He opened the paper and read the note. Tears ran down the president’s face as he tried to recover. Someone handed him a tissue. “I have just been informed that a nuclear device in the city of Detroit has been neutralized. It’s a joyous day here in our country today. Thank you, Paolo DeLaurentis.” He regained his composure. “Let us pray for our lost Russian friends and their families who died today in the terrible attack on Russian soil.” The screen switched back to the news program.
The newscaster, with disbelief on his face, said, “We pray for the lives lost in Russia today. We will be right back.”
Paolo clicked the off button on the remote. “Thank you, God, thank you.” The satellite phone warbled.
“Nice job, Rami.”
“Not me, Paolo. If it wasn’t for you, hundreds of thousands of people would have died—maybe more.”
“Well, let’s thank God.”
“Paolo, the president would like to speak with you. We’re patching him through.”
“Paolo.”
“Mr. President.”
“Our country and our people thank you.”
“Thank God, Mr. President, not me.”
“I’ll thank you both. I’m sorry I mentioned your name.”
“No problem.”
“Rami, do you want to tell him or should I?”
“You take the honor, Mr. President.”
“Paolo, Colin Payne is dead.”
“How do we know this?”
“The Russians had tracked him and Abir to the Urals. He was in the area of the detonation. We’re confident that he evaporated in the explosion.”
A wave of sadness overcame Paolo. The words of Sergio’s father Vittorio came to mind. In order to have true peace, you have to forgive. “How many people were killed?”
“The Russians expect that casualties will be somewhere in the neighborhood of four thousand. They believe it was an accidental detonation. It could have been a lot worse.”
“Yes, it could have, Mr. President.”
“Rami, you can share your news with our college friend. I have a press conference that I have to attend. Again, Paolo, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. President.” Paulo paused, then said, “Okay, Rami. When are you retiring?”
“Amazing how you know. Your gift.”
“The problem is, Rami, it’s inconsistent.”
“Gonna retire next year. I’ve suggested to the president that Giacomo replace me. He has agreed.”
“That’s great. Does Giacomo know yet?”
“Yes, we’ve already started to transfer control. You should be very proud of him, Paolo. He’s a good man…just like his father.”
“Thank you, Rami, I am very proud of him. Stay in touch.”
“I will, Paolo. Thank you for what you’ve done. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, General.”
CHAPTER 55
NEW ENGLAND WAITED for the Indian summer of October while the world still reeled from the deadly terror attack on Russian soil. Although the United States celebrated the heroes who dismantled the weapon intended for them, a heavy black cloud settled over humanity.
Paolo faced the publicity that resulted from his name being mentioned with the honest acknowledgement he couldn’t talk about it. Somewhat relieved that Payne was dead, he tried to move forward. The absence of Sydney in his life made his life seem meaningless. The love in his heart starved his being, an unquenchable thirst that could never be relieved without her being by his side. He spent his forty-seventh birthday with his daughter.
He arrived at Starbucks at four in the afternoon, journal in hand. Paolo ordered a cappuccino. The coffee shop was crowded but he found a table by a window and sat down with his thoughts.
In Starbucks without you
I’ve become a lost memory within you.
My heart, my life, shattered like a broken window
scattered on the ground.
“Do you mind if I sit down?”
Paolo was startled. “Not at all,” he said, motioning with his hand. Paolo offered the chair opposite him. “Please, sit.” Her face is so familiar.
“I apologize, but…have we met before?” Paolo asked.
“I think so, but I can’t place your face. I grew up in North Haven.” Her blue eyes sparkled.
“So did I.” Like a light bulb that turned on, Paolo recognized her. “You’re Tina’s sister, Cindy. I’m Paolo, Paolo DeLaurentis.”
“Not the DeLaurentis from Time magazine?”
“Yep, that’s me.”
“Are you the same Paolo the president mentioned?”
Paolo grimaced, “Yep.” He changed the subject. “How is Tina?”
“She passed away a couple of years ago of breast cancer.” Cindy lowered her head.
“I’m so sorry to hear that…” Paolo paused reflectively. His eyes brightened. “I had this mad crush on her when we were in high school.”
“She called you Paul.”
“Yes, she was the only person ever to call me Paul.”
Cindy sat back in her chair. Paolo felt her perfect blue eyes scan his face.
“I remember you now. You were always at the house. Amazing how life brings us back.”
“So, do you still live in town?”
“No, I’m here settling my mother’s estate. Mom passed away a year ago. She was eighty-six.”
“I’m sorry. Was she sick long?”
“No, she never woke up, she died peacefully in her sleep.”
“Your mother, God, what a wonderful lady. She always made me welcome, and she made excellent meatballs. Tina would call me when she was making them, so I could come over just as they were coming out of the frying pan. To be honest with you, they were better than my mother’s. Don’t tell my mother I said that,” Paolo quipped. A smile on his face, he continued, “If I remember correctly, you went to Harvard, then married a lawyer. I actually remember the day you got married.”
“You have an excellent memory.”
“I have a talent for remembering things. So, Cindy, are you still married?”
“No, I got divorced about ten years ago. And you?”
“I’m divorced as well,” Paolo paused. “Would you like to go out to dinner? There’s a nice Italian restaurant down the street.”
“Sure, I’d love to.”
Dinner served, a bottle of red wine consumed, Paolo said, “I have to say, Cindy, time has had no effect on you. You’re still a beautiful woman.”
“Why, thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”
Fascinated by Cindy’s beauty and conversation, Paolo’s thoughts were still of Sydney. He paid the bill and walked Cindy to her car. “I had a nice evening. Thank you.”
“Me, too. If you’re ever in Manhattan, please give me a call. I’d love to have dinner with you again.” Cindy wrapped her arms around him and thanked him for dinner. They gazed in each other’s eyes. Their faces moved closer, lips touched. Their embrac
e grew tighter and the kiss became more passionate. “My hotel isn’t far from here. Would you like to come back for a nightcap?”
“Sure, I’ll follow you.” I have nothing to lose; somebody wants me, why not? Sydney doesn’t care. She told me to date, so what the hell?
Paolo’s reality for that one night was he was wanted. The need of two people to feel loved—to feel the warmth of one another even for one night—sometimes outweighs the risks involved. Cindy’s hotel was several miles away, so Paolo followed her. When they got to the point of entering the hotel garage, he just kept on going. When Paolo arrived home, he wrote:
Why do I love you so much, Sydney Hill, that you destroy my heart? Why is my love for you so strong? Can anyone answer me? Why do I love this woman so much?
Paolo sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. In his subconscious, he heard: Because you do, it is who you are—your essence—to love unconditionally, no matter what the pain and heartache, for it is better to have loved than not—for then your life would be truly empty. Your life is full because of the love you have for her.
Paolo opened his eyes. It was clear he would never stop loving Sydney Hill. He couldn’t. The love for her was imprinted on his heart, for all eternity.
CHAPTER 56
THE FIRST SNOW of the season fell in the second week in November. The thin white layer covered the sloped rooftops of the university buildings. Footprints tracked the pathways along the un-shoveled sidewalks. Paolo sat at his desk and stared at the New Haven Green from his office window. I wonder what Sydney is doing? Maybe I should call her—after all, this is the holiday season. Thanksgiving is in two weeks.
“Paolo?” Rebecca called through the intercom.
“Yes, Rebecca?”
“Sydney Hill is here to see you.”
Paolo was bewildered. Sydney? What the hell is she doing here? He tried not to feel bitter, although bitter he was. She probably wants to return something. I poured my heart out to her, how could she do this to me? Paolo had totally ignored the warning signs—her need for independence, his keeping of secrets, her indecision about commitment, her fear of saying “I love you.”
“Rebecca, tell her I’ll be right there. Better yet, tell her to come right in.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Thank you. And Rebecca, I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stop the ‘sir’ shit and let her in,” he said tersely.
Sydney walked through the door. She wore a camel turtleneck sweater, a tan leather jacket, and blue jeans. She looked gorgeous. Paolo noticed something in her eyes, a darkness of pain, hurt, and confusion.
“Hello, Sydney.” His was not a pleasant hello. He stayed seated behind his desk.
“Hello, Paolo. Not too polite to Rebecca.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I’ll make sure I apologize. What can I do for you? I’m kind of busy.”
“I came to apologize.”
Darkness lifted off Paolo’s shoulders. Still not giving her any slack, he said, “Okay, what does that mean?”
“You know I’ve not been myself.”
“Tell me about it.”
Angry, Sydney said, “Okay, I was wrong. I screwed up. But to be honest, your little tirade and little secrets scared me. For Pete’s sake, Paolo, the president thanked you for saving the city of Detroit. Who are you?”
“Okay, okay,” Paolo paused. “I apologized for my outburst, but still you didn’t give me the time of day. You were like an ice cube. Now I’m a little angry. You really hurt me, Sydney…a lot. And the president thing, that’s no longer a part of my life. Okay? I’m sorry.” Paolo moved to the couch and sat opposite her.
“I’m sorry, Paolo, I’m not thinking right. My hormones are all screwed up.”
“Your hormones? What do hormones have to do with anything?”
“Think back, Paolo. Every time I said something cold or dismissive, or wouldn’t say I loved you? It always was about a week before my monthly cycle. When I get in those moods, I don’t want to be around you, let alone kiss you. The thought of kissing you makes me want to vomit.”
Paolo’s eyes widened.
“I know my actions hurt you, so I thought it would be best if I broke up with you.” She started to cry. “But it hurts too much not having my best friend around.”
Paolo was shocked and tried to grasp the words she spoke. “Vomit? Did you say vomit? The thought of kissing me would cause you to vomit? Well, that’s not good.”
“No, it’s not. I saw a doctor a couple of days ago. The blood tests show I’m starting menopause.”
Paolo moved closer to her on the couch. His empathic sense heightened, he felt her pain and sorrow. “It’s okay, Syd, we can work this out.”
She looked up at him. Tears streamed down her face. She kissed him. Her lips were warm and salty, and warmth filled Paolo’s being. “Let’s go out for dinner so we can talk. Where’s Lisa?”
“She’s having dinner at a friend’s house.”
“Okay, give her a call. Tell her we’re going out to dinner and you won’t be home late.”
“Okay.”
Neither of them ate much. They talked and decided they would try again. When Paolo arrived home, he looked up menopause on his computer. After an hour of reading, he went to bed, shaking his head.
God in his infinite wisdom created man and woman. He did this so man would have a partner in life. Man’s stupidity—the temptation of Adam and Eve—screwed everything up. As punishment, man and woman were banished from the Garden of Eden and forced to set out into the wilderness to till the soil and live off the land. This biblical story has been handed down through the centuries. Theological scholars still debate whether it is symbolic or true. When man accepted the apple, everything changed—God’s comic genius gave man and woman hormones.
Hormones, for the woman, guaranteed life would be a roller coaster ride. Granted, all humans have hormones. It’s only in the female species that these hormones erupt on a monthly basis. Moreover, when the female reproductive cycle comes to an end, the ultimate eruption occurs—menopause, the final roller coaster ride.
For some women, menopause occurs early in life, sometimes by the age of forty. For the majority of women, menopause begins in the mid to late forties, usually ending in the early fifties, God willing. For man, God gave sports, outdoor activities, and hobbies—in other words, escapism. Then, once in a blue moon, a man comes along to try to figure it all out.
The upheavals, the emotional roller coaster of their relationship, troubled Paolo deeply. Why do people act the way they do? Why did he act the way he did? Paolo’s deep and engrossing thought process nagged at him. Philosophers, psychologists, and scientists had pondered human behavior for eons. Still the academics didn’t fully understand the inner workings of the human mind.
Paolo knew that childhood experiences influence who we are and how we act. Add hormones to the equation and all hell could break loose. The thoughts hung in the silence of his mind. Humankind’s rationale of human behavior fell far short of the reality of man’s existence in God’s world.
Several days after their conversation, Paolo started to analyze their relationship from beginning to end—from when they first met to this latest incident. Sydney was right, a behavioral transformation in her personality occurred one to two weeks before her menstrual cycle. He reflected on the times their relationship had hit a roadblock, times when Sydney told him he should start dating other people, or said they were just friends. These all occurred within that time frame. He felt confident that there was no other man involved—this was something else, and if he could come to understand, then he could accept it.
Sydney started to have abrupt mood swings. Paolo became the punching bag, bearing the brunt of Sydney’s anxiety, frustration and stress. She became depressed without understanding why she was depressed. She was no longer able to deal with everyday life—relationship, job, children. Paolo was put on the injured lis
t, the designated hitter to be played again when life and hormones were balanced.
For Paolo, the love between them was real. He understood the outside influences that affected their love and damaged their relationship. Paolo had experienced a similar situation before, with his ex-wife and his mother. He decided to deal with the problem instead of accepting it.
Paolo went to Barnes and Noble, purchased several books on women’s health, and then went home and spent the weekend reading them. He was amazed at what occurs to the female body and mind, all because of the pea-sized pituitary gland. He realized that Sydney exhibited all the symptoms—the migraine headache before her period, the mood swings, the fuzziness of mind and memory loss. It was as if the books were written about Sydney.
Then, in a comedic thought, he figured out why men his age date much younger women. Subconsciously men had figured it out—by the time their younger wives reached menopause, they would be dead.
CHAPTER 57
Winter approaches with its cold
The warmth of your heart, your love keeps the cold out
My fears undaunted by the knowledge you love me
And I love you
Loneliness envelops my heart when I am not near you
Emptiness surrounds me when I cannot hear your voice
Or feel your touch
Time seems so long without you
Hours with you are too short
Life without you I cannot fathom
Life with you seems like a dream
When you tell me you love me
You make my heart, my being, light up with joy
Oh, how I love you
THE EARLY NOVEMBER snowfall melted away. The fall leaves swirled along the roadside as Paolo drove his racing-green Jaguar to Sydney’s house. The morning frost was not yet warmed by the sun when Paolo arrived for Sunday breakfast, just after nine.
Paolo drank his black coffee while Sydney sipped her morning tea. The New York Times was placed on a kitchen chair; warm gas-heated air blew through the vents.
Messenger From God (The Last Eulogy Series Book 1) Page 25