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Crystal Masks
Terry Salvini
A night of passion wreaks havoc in the life and career of Loreley, a young New York lawyer grappling with a delicate court case and what seems to be an obvious outcome. To discover the truth, the woman decides to infiltrate an ambiguous environment, where she will discover another side of herself. Several characters revolve around the protagonist: an old love, family, friends, colleagues, but above all Sonny, a pianist and composer still bound to his past. Some of them remain true to themselves, others hide behind crystal masks that the rapid and relentless succession of events ends up smashing to pieces. A night of passion creates havoc in the life and career of Loreley, a young New York lawyer grappling with a delicate court case and what seems to be an obvious outcome. To discover the truth, the woman decides to infiltrate an ambiguous environment, where she will discover another side of herself. Several characters revolve around the protagonist: an old love, family, friends, colleagues, but above all Sonny, a pianist and composer still bound to his past. Some of them remain true to themselves, others hide behind crystal masks that the rapid and relentless succession of events ends up smashing to pieces.
Terry Salvini
Crystal Masks
Translated by
Barbara Maher
"Crystal Masks"
by Terry Salvini
www.tektime.it
Maschere di cristallo © 2019 Maria Teresa Salvini
Crystal Masks © 2020 Maria Teresa Salvini
Tralsated by Barbara Maher
You will learn at your own expense that along your way every day you will meet millions of masks and very few faces.
(Luigi Pirandello)
No one can wear a mask for too long.
(Seneca)
To my ex-husbands
To my daughters
To my partner.
Prologue
Loreley awakened from a confused dream, drenched in sweat, her mouth furry and a painful throb at her temples. She massaged them, trying to understand the reason for that malaise, but her mind just would not cooperate.
She blinked several times before opening her eyes completely. Everything around her was shrouded in darkness; just a small annoying LED light intruded on that darkness: as usual, John had forgotten to turn it off before he went to sleep.
When she turned to him huffing and about to nudge him, she stiffened, puzzled. She looked at the red LED again. It was not opposite her, where it should have been!
That is not the television, she thought.
As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she forced herself to focus on some feature of the room, and could make out the dark silhouettes of the few pieces of furniture around her: not one of them seemed familiar.
This was not her bedroom!
She heard an intake of breath louder than the others, almost a wheeze; the bed moved, and she realized that her fiancé had just turned over towards her. A strong smell of alcohol puzzled her. He must have had a lot to drink, and a moment later it dawned on her that maybe she had too. She slid slowly out from under the sheets, but her legs were wobbly, and she had to sit down on the bed. Nausea joined the headache.
Several seconds went by before she tried get up again. When she felt confident that she could stand, she made her way to the LED, convinced that it must be a light switch. She touched it several times. Nothing came on.
Another doubt assailed her.
She went back to the bed, walked around it, and put out her hand towards the man who seemed to be sound asleep. Running her hand lightly over his hair and face, she looked closely at his features, taking care not to wake him.
Suddenly she pulled her arm back. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment, and then began beating again, faster than ever.
Who the hell had she ended up in bed with?
I must get out of here as quickly possible, she thought to herself.
Where had she left her clothes? She groped around and found her panties and bra under the sheet.
After an interminable minute, she also found her dress which had ended up at the foot of the bed. Her handbag was sitting upright in the armchair, the only thing in the right place.
Putting one hand out in front of her, she located the bathroom door and turned on the light. What she saw reflected in the mirror made her gasp. There was mascara was smudged around her deep blue eyes and dark circles under them. Her face had a perplexing pallor.
She sighed. It had been a long time since she had seen herself in a state like that.
The small bottles on the shelf by the washbasin, the white towels folded over the rails and two immaculate bathrobes hanging on their respective hooks, proved she was in a hotel room; how she had ended up there, however, she just did not remember.
She washed her face and fixed her long blonde hair as best she could with the tiny comb provided for guests, then turned to the window. It was still dark outside, and it was impossible to see anything, not even the moon in the sky. She took her cell phone out of her handbag: ten past four.
A shrill sound warned her that the battery was almost dead. Quickly, she lowered the ringtone and activated localization. The map indicated a spot in Uptown Manhattan, near Central Park. Not far from home, she thought, just as the phone turned off with a slight vibration.
She put it back in her bag, next to a small, round silver case: her pill holder. She stared at it as if there might be something inside that could help her think clearly again. A lifeline that could put an end to all her negative thoughts. She was about to take it out but had second thoughts. Perhaps it was also due to this weakness that she was in this absurd situation right now.
She closed her handbag; better to leave it where it was.
As she looked at her elegant dress lying on the stool, a flaky image of newlyweds toasting their future ran through her mind.
She tried to remember something more but desisted. There was no time to think. She dressed quickly and went back into the room.
Dammit, where were her shoes! She searched for them in the darkness, then stifled a cry and the imprecation that almost escaped her when she stumbled over them. Holding her breath, she listened closely. The man's light snoring continued uninterrupted and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Barefooted, she crept stealthily out of the room and waited until she was in the elevator to put her shoes on. At the front desk, she asked them to call a cab.
Outside, the night sky was dark, and the air was laden with humidity. There were very few vehicles in circulation on the damp streets which in just a few hours would be flooded with cars and people hurrying to get to work.
She had to be in the office that morning too, despite the nausea, headache, and devastated face. Her career did not allow her to miss work.
The taxi arrived within minutes. With an unsteady gait, she started towards the door the driver had opened for her; but as she stepped off the sidewalk she slipped on a small puddle. So as not to end up on the ground, she grabbed the man for support.
Hey, careful. No more falling into the arms of strangers! she told herself wriggling free from his grasp.
She saw him take a step back.
"I just wanted to help you get in..."
Loreley looked at him for a few moments, the streetlight showing a chubby face with an amused expression.
"I’ll manage by myself, thank you," she replied curtly.
Moving cautiously, she got in the back seat as the taxi driver settled behind the wheel.
"Where are we going, miss?"
Loreley gave him the address, then rubbed the back of her head with a grimace of pain.
"Are you okay? I can take you to the hospital if you like."
"No, there’s no need for that. It will go away..."
"A bit too much to drink, huh?"
She snorted. "I don't think it's any of your business."
"All right, but don’t vomit on the seat or you’ll have to pay a surcharge..."
Loreley scowled at him through the rearview mirror. "It's not going to happen. I just have a huge headache. A couple of hours of rest, a coffee and I'll be brand new."
"I hope new is better than now,” the driver commented sarcastically, a moment before making a sound like barely restrained laughter.
"Go to hell!"
If I survive, I swear I will never do anything like this again.
1
Loreley got up from her chair and walked across to the window of her office. She was tired of sitting behind a desk flipping through regulations and typing on the computer, and in any case, she had to go to court soon.
Although she couldn’t see the clouds, she felt that it would soon start raining again; her mood turned to gray, like the sky in those last two days, a colour she hated and that made her feel sad.
She stood there for a while with her gaze fixed on the vast bluish windows of the skyscraper opposite, her thoughts focused on what had happened the night before, trying to recall the sequence of events; but the memories in her head were like a grainy old damaged film, with the frames flowing quickly and then jamming in the same spot.
Her brother's wedding ceremony was quite clear in her mind, as was lunch at the restaurant of a hotel in Manhattan, the music and the toasts She had received plenty of attention from the men there, many of whom she had never seen before the party, and several that she had known for some time. Among them, there was one in particular which had tormented her in the last few hours and she suspected that it belonged to the person with whom she had left the restaurant, to go upstairs to the room.
I sure hope it was not him!
She was still staring through the window at the office in the skyscraper across the way when a noise behind her put a stop to the train of thought.
"Are you still here, Lorely?"
It was Simon Kilmer, a man whose skin was as white as the little hair that remained on his head.
"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. I’ll get going right now."
She moved away from the window and went back to her desk. As she went to retrieve her notes, she knocked a file full of documents, which in turn slammed into the pen holder and sent it toppling over. The contents rolled across the mahogany desktop and ended up on the marble floor.
"What’s wrong with you today?" Simon asked her. "Are you worried about the Desmond trial? Sorry, but you have to be in that courtroom," he said in an authoritarian voice. "It's the least you can do to help me forget that you refused to accept the case. You ran the risk of..."
"It’s got nothing to do with the court case!" she interrupted him and knelt to pick up the pens and pencils. Looking up at him for a moment, she blocked the next question. "Don't worry, my problems are about my private life, that’s all. And now please don't ask me any more questions."
She put the pen holder back in place, took off her glasses and put them in her bag without another word.
Kilmer brushed the dark spot on his face, a barely visible birthmark under his white beard. "I don’t want to intrude. But whatever it is, try to become aware and alive again. You seem distracted, and you look exhausted. The holiday season takes away a lot of our energy..." He smiled at her, as if to make her understand that maybe he had guessed what the problem was.
Loreley did not respond to the taunt and smiled briefly. Cunning as that man was, he certainly could not have guessed what had happened. “I’ll take your advice."
"Run now, or you’ll arrive when it’s all over. And please let me know how it went as soon as possible. I want to hear it from you and not from Ethan, okay?"
"Do I have a choice? I know only too well that if I don’t, you’d make me pay in some way," she retorted, and walked from the room.
Whenever she went out on business, it was her custom to take a cab.
“100 Centre Street please, as fast as you can,” she told the driver, a young man with an Asian appearance and short, smooth hair.
They had travelled a couple of miles when the vehicle started to shudder, and a strange noise seemed to alarm the driver.
What’s happening here? Loreley wondered.
Cursing his bad luck, the man moved over to the side of the road looking for somewhere to stop, but more precious minutes were lost before he found a suitable place. He got out and walked around the vehicle, checking it carefully.
"Everything has gone wrong this morning!" he exclaimed with a gesture of anger. “All we needed was a flat tire!”
Oh, no! This is no good! she thought and got out of the car too.
"How long will it take to change it?"
"At least fifteen minutes, miss."
"I can't wait that long!" Her voice rose.
"I'm sorry, it's not my fault; you can see that too," he said, pointing to the almost flat front tire.
Loreley slammed the door. "Tell me what I owe you. Quickly, please."
"Don’t worry about it, today is definitely not one of my luckiest days."
"It's not one of mine either."
She pulled a ten dollar note from her wallet and handed it to the man, who had opened the trunk and was taking out the equipment needed to change the tire. He thanked her with a smile.
Loreley walked until she reached the intersection with the main road, seeing dozens of cars of every model and colour hurtle past her. Spotting a taxi, she raised her hand to hail it down, but it went straight past without even slowing down.
