Crystal Masks

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.

She saw another one coming and gestured wildly in the hope of stopping it, but to no avail. Another came along: nothing doing! Those damned yellow cabs just went their merry way, indifferent to her plight.

Aren’t there any of these damned cabs available?

She tried one last time, waving until she felt ridiculous: still nothing! With a sigh she turned and went back to the taxi driver.

"Listen... how much longer will it take?"

"Just a few more minutes, miss," he replied as he tightened a bolt on the wheel.

"Okay. Here’s what we’ll do." She took out a few bills. "If you get me to court by eleven o'clock, this will turn into one of your luckiest days."

The man stopped what he was doing to think about his customer's generous offer, then started to work faster. A couple of minutes later, he was behind the wheel again with her sitting in the back seat, looking at her mobile phone and counting the seconds that passed.

Heavy traffic around Hell's Kitchen slowed the taxi almost to a stop. They were now proceeding at walking pace, and the honking of horns revealed the impatience of the drivers.

"Isn't there a way to get out of this mess?" asked Loreley.

"I'm sorry, miss. Don’t you think I’d have taken it if there was?"

"My job is at stake!"

"You have no idea how many customers get in here and every guy has his own story. Some don’t talk and hardly move, ignoring me all the way, then there are others who get really agitated... as if the seat was on fire under their ass. And they jabber on like you."

In the rear-view mirror Loreley could see him smiling and forced herself to smile back at him.

"But there’s one thing everyone has in common," he went on, "they’re in one hell of a hurry to get to their destination."

She took a deep breath to calm down. "I've already apologized, what else should I do?"

"Nothing! I prefer customers like you, miss, rather than the mummies."

This time Loreley smiled more convincingly at him. And with all the money I gave you! she thought, leaning back against the headrest. The pain at the back of her neck had diminished just enough for her to work but had not disappeared entirely.

Maybe this was a good time for a painkiller. The doctor had told her to take one only when the pain was not too strong and to double the dose only when it was necessary. Her obstinacy and too many commitments, however, had led her to taking them haphazardly, and in the space of a few years she had found herself needing a stronger dose.

Talking the small silver container out of her handbag, she opened it, took out a tablet and closed it again, her gaze lingering on the two Ls in shining gold engraved on the lid. Once it had stood for, Lorenz Lehmann, her grandfather; now, Loreley Lehmann.

As she feared, she was late getting to the courthouse. Even though the taxi driver had failed to maintain their agreement, she left the entire amount she had already given him, to compensate for her irritation which he had been forced to endure.

She ran up the wide marble staircase leading to the foyer of the building, hoping she was in time for the verdict. Luckily, she knew where to go and there was no need to waste more time asking for information; it was easy to get lost in that vast building if you were not familiar with it.

Even before entering the courtroom, though, she realized that the ruling on the Desmond case had already been issued, as the door was open, and people were leaving.

Darn it, too late! She clenched her hand and hit it against an invisible object.

Glancing quickly around from the door, she could see the tension on people's faces which had not yet subsided; the public and jurors were leaving their seats, as was Judge Sanders, a petite elderly woman, walking out through the door at the back of the courtroom.

Loreley went in and searched for her colleague Ethan Morris amid the increasing chatter. She saw him standing beside the defendant, Leen Soraya Desmond.

As if he had sensed her arrival, Ethan turned and gave her a forced smile. A moment later Leen turned around too and her oriental-looking eyes twitched.

"It won't finish here, Lehmann!" she yelled at her. "Sooner or later I'll get my revenge!" As two uniformed officers were leading her away, she turned her attention to a dark-haired man watching the scene, a short distance away. "My father won’t forget you and what you’ve done to me. Never!"

"I won't forget either, Leen! You can be sure of that," she answered in a strong, determined voice, though not as spiteful.

Intrigued, Loreley studied the object, or rather the subject, of such acrimony, and the moment she recognized him she stiffened and stared at him as if in a trance. The clips of the old film started to flow through her mind again, but this time they were vivid, fast, with no interruption.

Oh my God! Him!

"What's wrong? Is it because of what my client said to you?" asked Ethan as he approached her.

She unbuttoned her tight-fitting blue jacket which at that moment was preventing her from breathing, until her chest finally lifted and let some air into her lungs.

"Not really. I'm just a little tired."

The lawyer smiled at her, nodding. "I guess yesterday was a kind of tour de force."

"Yes. And seeing that woman again just now..." She looked at the doorway through which Leen had just left. "Well... it certainly wasn’t pleasant. And besides, I didn’t get here in time."

"Don't worry. I won’t tell Kilmer you were late, not him and not Sarah. If you come to lunch with me, I’ll tell you everything that was said, so in case you get the third degree you will know what to say."

"Thank you. But I wasn’t late on purpose, you know, the taxi had a flat tire."

"Kilmer wouldn't believe you, but I know you better than he does. Now let's go and eat, it's the only pleasure I have left."

The dark-haired man who had just had the exchange of words with the defendant, caught up to them and blocked them just outside the door. Loreley gripped the handle of her bag so tightly that her nails dug into the palm of her hand.

"Counselor Morris, I congratulate you on your excellent defence, but I'm happy that it wasn't good enough for you to win," the newcomer said smiling at him, as she discreetly took a step back.

"That’s understandable Mr. Marshall." Ethan looked awkward.

"I wish you a good day, counselor," said the other, then turned his gaze to Loreley. "Hello, Lory." He stared at her for a moment, as if he wanted to speak to her, but didn't know what to say.

Overwhelmed by conflicting feelings and thoughts, she opened her mouth to return the greeting, but was unable to utter a single word.

He smiled at her, though his amber-colored eyes had a serious look. "I'd prefer that we see each other a long way from here next time," he concluded, then turned his back on her and walked away.

Ethan scratched his shaved head. "What’s wrong, Loreley? You didn't even say hello."

"I'm sorry... I don't know what got into me."

She saw him shake his head, as his eyes expressed confusion.

"Well, come on. I was so tense this morning, I didn't have breakfast, and now that it's all over, I’m feeling very hungry."

***

A week went by, with Loreley feeling more serene and managing not to think too much about the mess she was in. The few times that she did, especially when she alone was in bed, she would dismiss those memories, take a book at random and read until her eyes were red from exhaustion and she fell asleep; or else she would watch all kinds of documentaries on television. Anything was okay if she could focus her attention elsewhere.

She remembered very little of the hours of passion she had spent with the impromptu lover of that one night stand, but on the other hand she was starting to remember what had happened before she went up to the room with that man.

Sitting at the table of a large restaurant with other wedding guests, Loreley had been nibbling at a slice of wedding cake when he, with a glass of champagne in one hand and a chair in the other, had sat down opposite her, beside his friend Steve.

"Everyone at this table has found their other half, even Hans and Esther, and I'm the only one left," he said, accompanying that last sentence with a sip of champagne, as if to congratulate himself.

"I’d advise you to stay single for a while longer," was Steve's joking response.

"I tell myself that too, you know, every day, so I don’t forget it. No romantic commitments for the next few years. I've had enough of them!"

Loreley had felt slightly uncomfortable and had looked down at her plate, realizing that the man was still hurting because of Esther, who instead looked like a bride who was happy with her choice. He had not shown any emotion all day, but then the champagne must have lowered his guard.

"You're actually not the only single sitting at this table... or don’t I count?" Lucy, a curvaceous blond, had corrected him. "Unlike you, though, I still continue on my way, despite everything..." She had emphasized the last two words, as if to make it clear what, or rather, who she was alluding to with that "despite everything."

"I’ll bet you do, I’ve never had any doubts about that!" the man had replied, sarcastically.

A frown of displeasure had appeared on the young woman's face: "Always better than feeling sorry for yourself!"

Loreley had found it hard not to giggle. Lucy enjoyed provoking him whenever she had the chance and he reciprocated as best he could, considering that he was not usually the type to be disrespectful towards women. For some reason, the girl always turned their approaches into skirmishes. It had become a ritual by now, their only means of communication, and if they had changed this habit, Loreley would have been astonished and perhaps even a little disappointed.

When she had seen Lucy leave the table to go and join the dancing, the man had turned his attention to her, and she had kept him company with a couple of after-dinner drinks, forgetting she should not mix painkillers with alcohol.

In those last frantic days spent helping Esther with the preparations for the wedding and discussing the Desmond case with her boss for the umpteenth time, the pain at the back of her head had given her no respite. The icing on the cake had arrived two days before the wedding when her fiancé had phoned from Los Angeles to inform her, as if it were no big deal, that he couldn’t be with her for the wedding. The ensuing argument had accentuated her headache and she had been forced to take the medication on several occasions.

There was still a dark chasm in her recollections, between the time the newlyweds had left the restaurant followed by festive exclamations of good wishes, to when she had woken up in the middle of the night in a room on the upper floors of the hotel. A hole where there were only flashes in which she saw herself naked, wrapped around a man with tanned skin crushing her against the bed under his body as he caressed and kissed her.

Then, total darkness.

And him again, rolling over and putting her on top of himself, straddling him. She remembered his feline eyes that announced passion and the sly smile on lips that invited her to abandon herself to any unspoken desire.