You After Hell
Copyright © 2018 Manuela Ricci All rights reserved Illustration - Photo Manipulation -
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This book is a work of fiction. Characters and places mentioned are the author's inventions and they only aim to make the most truthful narrative. Any analogy with the facts, places and people lived and disappeared, is purely coincidental.
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You After Hell
Manuela Ricci
Manuela Ricci
You After Hell
That love, the pure one that does not
leave stain know in your heart,
but only roots in a soul that asks
saving.
Chapter
1
Medyson
"Destiny,
this word we put in the hands
our lives, against which we struggle.
Sometimes we win other we are defeated. "
"There's nothing here, not even here ... uff" puff, you zap on cable TV could not find anything he can to get my attention. Nothing gates by mind this last period, just close my eyes, go back in time to stop it.
"Miss Walker, dinner is ready," Consuelo tells me our home. He lives with us since I was about eight years old, is now a family, if we account the fact that he practically raised me her. I smile and pull me up off the couch.
My have another of their Gala charity which, luckily I have avoided my presence, my mother was not very excited about my choice, as all those that lately I'm taking, rebelling for the first time to his demands. If I had to find an adjective to define my mother I think I would use far to unscrupulous social climber.
I do not even remember when was the last time you are worried to ask me what I wanted to do myself. Riding lessons just to be part of the wide circle of women who use their daughters to project on them all that could not be them, so for piano lessons, those of diction. I have lived all these years just to please his demands, but then comes something in life that stirs everything that you thought to make sense, and realize that it's time to give it a rest.
"Thank Consuelo, let me company," I kindly ask that in the meantime I sit on one of the stools of the peninsula in the sumptuous cuisine in a perfect modern style with precious pink marble that cover each floor and the latest electrical appliances to complete it. I always wondered what would have served a kitchen so big that it can be considered almost an apartment, when, in addition to Consuelo, my mother has never used except when invited some friends of the neighborhood for tea and had to brag new curtains arrived directly from Paris.
"Miss ..." says Consuelo frowning a little 'forehead, which is his wont to do when he is embarrassed.
"So we're alone, we come sit down," I insist doing a little 'pout and moving the chair beside me. He pauses a moment to look at me, just shakes his head giving in to my request and is about to sit down. We begin to eat, I hate to dine alone and this, ultimately happen often. My parents are always out, dinners of my father's business, charity evenings, the Yacht Club, all this was also part of my life, until the day when something is broken in the knowledge that nothing could ever be as before. Only now, since I spend most of the time locked in these walls, I realized how much this house can be huge.
"Have you not come out miss," reminds me Consuelo between mouthfuls each other. I shrug, driving away from the mind all those evenings made of sequins, colored lights at night mingled with Mimosa in his hands and the moon was reflected in the water almost to the beat of music of the pool rippled from the Pacific breeze.
"Do you good, you know?" He continues, I turn to her eyes that looked at me carefully; the eyes of an intense hazelnut, black hair tied in a neat chignon and that air that distinguishes Latin.
"I'm fine, if that's what you want to know. It's been too little time, I do not want the boring parties of Santa Monica "I say convinced than my words. We come from broken bell at the entrance door. Consuelo wipes his lips tight in a grimace of disappointment and is preparing to go to open while I am sitting with a fork that moves the food from side to side. So I know exactly who it is.
Ten, nine, eight, seven ...
"You may know for Why the heck do not you answer the phone?" Here it is, my best friend in all its narrow pissed in one of the last of the clothing collection of Michael Kors
"I was doing the countdown waiting for your Courtney screams, I was hoping to get at least three instead …" We know each other since we were small. We have never been separated over the years, the same schools, same private courses, and now we are both entered in Valley College, basically we are two bodies and one soul.
"When are you going to remove the chains to which you bound?" Question, challenging me with her green eyes, he stretches his hand on my plate to steal a potato chip.
"That's my dinner." My voice is not at all nice, "I have no desire to make films, dinners Merloce ... and then let's see ... ah Noah's party tonight? Of that I care even less! "I add, lifting me off the chair, Consuelo and starts to clear the table, I regret that not even her for my sake has finished his dinner.
Through the living room, large windows overlooking the garden lit by street lamps scattered 'everywhere. I head for the stairs to get to my room on the second floor. Courtney blabbering I hear a lot of things behind my back, slamming his feet impatiently at every step stomping like a little spoiled child. Do not listen to a single word. I'm one of his usual speeches that go on for some time, that my answers continue to remain the same.
You're always locked in the house. Why do not you go out? It's been a month, life goes bla, bla, bla.
I open the door of the room and Cox before me passing me by side while gesticulating animatedly, taken from across his speech to try to convince me to leave the house.
"Tell me when you're done, I'll go take a shower now and then '
"You're a bitch!" He yells back, taste laugh and I disappeared into the bathroom leaving her waiting alone sitting on the bed.
After private myself of clothes I wear, or the umpteenth pajamas with some fun Disney release, I open the shower hot water and within, I let the noise that glides on the body harbors the distant mind, beyond the memory of that morning, I tear the pain that I almost choked me and sticking like a knife between the ribs almost making me squirm.
See you tomorrow.
The word that resounds incessantly in the head.
I close the water and go out into the towel wrapping soft and fresh laundry. I open the door that leads to the bedroom and see that Courtney is gone. Pause a minute of the door frame. I know you're right, I should get out, I should get my life. I know I'm a bad friend, but it's stronger than me right now I feel stuck, she can not understand me this time, no one can.
With listless do I go in front of the closet and take another pajamas, that's what Saturday night, I say to myself. I throw an eye on the clock, and the memory of those crazy nights with bonfires on the seashore, with music that was lost in the waves along with the laughter and the big dreams is sketching me a bitter smile on his face.
After getting dressed, I take my I-pad on his desk by the window and I slip under the covers, arranging the pillows behind his back, I do not even want to sleep.
"Let's see what the world" comment says, opening the Facebook page to browse a bit '. I laugh, amused in front of all those selfies snapped from my comrades who portray them in weird poses. Then, my attention shifts to the status notification bar.
"Friend Request Eddy Snyps"
The page opens, a man in
the foreground with a modest dark suit on him, dark brown, hazel eyes and a beautiful smile. I look with his profile and more attention; Lives in Boston, lawyer, thirty two years, single.
Hesitated a moment on accepting or not his request. He has eleven years older than me, then, however, the fact that lives on the other side of a little 'encourages me coast.
But yeah, it's just a more knowledge in the web world.
Porto index finger on
"Accept Request Friendship".
Continue to peek a little 'inside the company and know that I received a message on the profile.
Message from Eddy Snyps:
"Hello, at home on Saturday night?"
I close the message immediately and rest stops still, I've never chatted with someone who did not know, while in the beep warns me of another notification.
Message from Eddy Snyps:
"Sorry, I did not invade. Hello!"
I'm an idiot, you see I'm on line, and I also read the message and in the end I decided to answer him.
Message to Eddy Snyps:
"Sorry I am not accustomed to chat with those who do not know"
Message from Eddy Snyps:
"So why did you accept my friend request?"
Yeah, because I have accepted?
Courtney Perhaps you're right, I should start to come out. I'm so depressed by going on a chat with a complete stranger?
Message from Eddy Snyps:
"Are you still there?"
From the Med they are just a couple of posts ...
Message to Eddy Snyps:
"There are!"
Decisive answer, and we begin to chat. She told him, telling me who works as a lawyer in a law firm in his name. He recently moved to Boston because it is actually originally from New York. Cheer for the Knicks, is an avid runner and has participated twice in the Boston Marathon.
The messages follow one another with the usual circumstance questions: What do you do? What would you do after college? I feel a little 'trivial compared to him with my story of the classic girl studying, is riding twice a week and goes to parties on Saturday night. My life is all there, written in these few lines that are reflected on the monitor light. Time passes and I am not even realize that we're chatting for more than two hours. Two hours that are practically sprints.
Message from Eddy Snyps:
"I have not said why you're at home on Saturday night they usually frequent many holidays"
Message to Eddy Snyps:
"It is not a good time, I prefer to stay on my own."
My eyes read the words "Eddy is writing" and I am waiting for a few minutes, I think maybe there is a connection problem. Why can not I find that he is still writing for so long. In the end, it appears his message.
Message from Eddy Snyps:
"I do not know what happened in your life, that of a girl so young should smile with insouciance. But I tell you what happened to me. I struggled with what fate has presented to me without stopping, because if you stop you're lost. the world continues without you, and when you know it may be too late. If you want to talk about anyway, this is my number. 516 333 546 2344. I go to bed, here are already five in the morning. a soon....
I read and reread those words that somehow have stirred something in me. I send him good night, realizing that we have three-hour time difference between us, here in Los Angeles are already two in the morning. I dwell on that phone number, then I close everything and put the I-pad on my nightstand next to the bed, turn out the lamp, I hold the pillow against his chest and fall asleep with the glow of the moon that light up the room.
The next morning the sun too strong filtering through the window wake up my sleeping, I rub my eyes and I see that is 12.00am. The flashing of the I-pad catches my eye. I settle and take it in his hands.
Message from Eddy Snyps:
"Good morning, sleep well? I just because of you"
I smile to the face that shows me the tongue, is a different smile than usual, carefree as if for a moment and read those few words have been able to free your mind of what haunts me every day. I lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I still smile at that stupid message and eventually take the cell phone in his hands and with the I-pad in front, skim up to find his number
Chapter
2
Zac
"Music is the only way to escape
without straying physically "
We walk a long climb, the red of the sunset with brushstrokes that blur the clouds a bit 'anywhere paints the sky above our heads. I always imagined how it could have been my life here, in the great and famous city of Los Angeles, and now that my eyes are lost in the glimpses of its landscape of white sand, tall palm trees that seem to touch the sky, hills and skyscrapers immense, I realize that I had no idea that would literally bewitched me.
"Here she is! Is that the house number 345 ... "says Ian beside me pointing with finger pointing. Lean his face toward the windshield of the car and see the villa in front of us. It is raised on a small hill, glazed mirror reflecting the Pacific Ocean behind us.
Never seen anything like it in my life.
Me and Ian we started from Queens, one of many unconventional neighborhoods of New York headed to Los Angeles with only the baggage of our dream that unites us from an early age ... the music. The one that we know and that has united us since the early lows that we have pulsed beneath her fingers.
Parking the car, Ian goes down and plays the dwelling bell. I look at the landscape of which you can enjoy from here on. The little distant skyscrapers seem to fall down at our feet like the rest of every detail that you can see, it's like I served the whole world in the palm of your hand.
"Brother, do you realize?" Says my friend all excited for the evening ahead. The first on the upper floors.
"Calm down," I say in the meantime I am going to unload the equipment from the hood of the car, an old Volkswagen Beetle that I took with little savings which they are landed in California.
"You're really saying to stay calm? If we play well, we will spend the whole year to play for these people. Think about it? Imagine the money? "He continues, taken from the situation. I'm staying with fixed feet well on the ground. We had already taken many disappointments in a few months. I had given up the university to this dream by investing all I had and all I did for a reason.
"You're late," exclaims a gate input well-dressed guy.
"We Ian and Zac," he says, extending his hand toward her.
"Noha, move!" Answers lacking in that narrow courtesy and then turning around to make our way. They already run the balls, if there are the guys with too much money to be able to buy even believe your soul, while in the launch look at Ian's one thing I always hated the hatred itself. He comes up to me to take one of the bags that I placed on the ground.
"You know how they are ..." Do not let him finish speaking.
"Yes, just full of themselves," I say grabbing one of the bags. We cross a long driveway in the middle of a garden, we turn the corner of the house where we see an eight-shaped pool, mastering the center of the garden where several chairs and armchairs all revolve around with skylights and candles.
"Settle well here," Noha, bar the shit am I shows us a corner set up on purpose to place the implant. Poggio ground stuff and begin to fix everything. I pull out my laptop that I place in the middle of dark lacquered floor, the mixer, and then connect the console with CD players. I am beginning to align various cd created by me and Ian, tracks that are born that way, just from the noise that surrounded us, along with those who were our moods.
"We're ready," we say.
"Did you see? I told you that sooner or later ... "
"Stop it, if you had not brought to bed ... what was his name ...?" I ask him, he frowns squinting a bit 'eyes as if you were concentrating to remember the name of his latest conquest. She bursts out laughing in his face.
"You do not remember his name, right? But how do you explain that? "I add but the only answer
they get are his shoulders that rise with indifference.
"Brother, it is not my fault that I focus on something else."
"You are paid to work, not for fun!" She immediately noted Noha. I simply looked at him. In recent months I've seen too many people like him. They call us "the ones of the valley", for those not privileged like them who live on the hills of the city.
"Zac, leave it alone, do not make noise," Ian murmured, without being noticed by Noha.
"Quiet, no problem, we make our evening and we go," I calm down without taking his eyes off her from asshole and while I turn on the system by putting pop music on hold background that the party takeoffs. They begin to get the guests, all children of fathers with their sign pole. I did not come here to play for since "they", I wanted to introduce my music, what I create. Because every object has a body and a soul and produces a sound of its own. A coin that turns on itself and then falls emits a sound, a spoon that runs inside a coffee mug creates another. We are surrounded by the music without even knowing it, without even realizing it, because we are not able to hear as well as what interests us.
You After Hell Page 1