The novel ‘A Woman between Two Men’, with an Albanian-American Theme, is authored by Carrie Hooper and Skifter Këllici
Chapter XI
A few days had passed. Charlie was in his laboratory, hard at work on an experiment when his cell phone rang.
“Well, my dear scientist, are you still in the lab?”
Charlie smiled. “Oh, Ralph, it’s you!” he said. “I’m here with my friend, Kenneth. We’re in the final phase of an important experiment.”
“I just called Mary, and she mentioned that. How much longer will it take?”
“We know when our work starts, but don’t always know when it will end.”
“That’s science. Measure seven times and wait. Can you leave your experiment?”
“I can if it’s for a good reason.”
“Then leave it.”
Charlie was so surprised that his glasses almost fell off his arched nose.
“Why?” he asked.
“Have you forgotten what you told me that night in Mary’s apartment?”
“You mean, that we should celebrate the capture of those drug traffickers?”
“Exactly, and the time has come. Tonight we’re meeting at a restaurant called Splendid, Wilma and I, you and Mary, and Scott, the brave officer you saw on TV. He’s bringing his fiancee.”
For a moment, Charlie didn’t know what to say.
“Forgive me, but as you know, we police officers plan things on the spur of the moment. Who knows what trouble those drug dealers may cause tomorrow or the day after?”
“Did you tell Mary?” asked Charlie.
“Of course. It was she who told me to call you in case you were busy and couldn’t leave work.”
“I got the point, Ralph. I’ll be there. What time?”
“Six-thirty.”
“It’s almost five now,” said Charlie. “I still have plenty of time. I may even finish my experiment. I’ll call Mary and tell her to wait for me in front of the restaurant. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Charlie. You won’t forget, will you?”
“No, no,” laughed Charlie.
When Mary got out of the car, she saw Ralph and Wilma in the restaurant, Splendid, which was located near a park that was quieter at that time of night. They were elegantly dressed. He wore a dark gray suit. Civilian clothes looked just as nice on him as his police uniform because of his stature and stocky build. Mary wore a long, cherry red skirt. When she came in, Ralph asked, “Where’s Charlie?”
“Where else but at the institute,” she replied. “But when I called him an hour ago, he said he would be here right at six-thirty.”
“He told me the same thing this morning when I talked to him on the phone. I admire his discipline,” said Ralph.
“But everything has its limits,” Wilma put in. “He buried himself in his studies.”
“It’s not your fault you feel that way,” said Ralph. “You’re used to those books authors churn out in the same way bakers make rolls. But science is another matter.”
When he saw Mary’s irritation, he kept silent. Then he took both women by the arm and led them into the restaurant. But he stopped when he saw a car pull into the parking lot. A young man and a dark-skinned woman with hair down to her shoulders got out.
“There’s Scott and his fiancee,” said Ralph.
Wilma and Mary turned toward them.
“Scott, you’re five minutes late,” said Ralph.
He tried to look stern.
“Oh, stop. You’re not in your office. You don’t need to ask for an accounting,” said Wilma.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” said Scott. “There was a lot of traffic in our area.”
Then, turning to the pleasant and lovely-looking African-American woman beside him, he said, “I’d like you to meet my fiancee, Violet.”
She shook everyone’s hand.
“Hey, Mary, this is the first time you’ve met Scott and his fiancee,” said Wilma.
“Yes,” said Mary.
“I saw you for the first time the day Ralph told me to come to Crystal to take Kreshnik Germeni to the police station,” said Scott.
“The one who made such a scene,” said Ralph with disdain.
Wilma cast Mary a hinting glance. Mary was speechless.
“Mary, aren’t you engaged to that young scientist, Charlie Smith?” asked Violet.
“Yes,” she replied.
“I saw him on TV. He was giving a talk at a symposium in Los Angeles.”
“And you, Violet, will have a chance to meet him,” said Ralph. “He will be here in a few minutes. But why are we standing here? Let’s go in.”
They entered the restaurant.
Little did they know that Charlie was sitting at his desk, still working on his experiment and making notes. The large clock on the wall said 6:45.
While they waited for Charlie, Ralph told a story that had everyone in stitches.
“Well, that’s what happened to the thief,” he concluded. “He set a trap for the man whose house he planned to rob but he himself fell into it.”
Mary forced a laugh. She had her mind on Charlie who was late. Unable to wait any longer, she called him on her cell phone, but he did not answer.
“Did you call Charlie?” asked Ralph.
“Yes,” said Mary in a half whisper. “But he must have gotten distracted with work and left his phone somewhere. I’ll call the lab.”
Mary went into the lobby in order not to disturb anyone, pulled her notebook out of her bag, leafed through it, dialed a number, and waited.
“Hello, Kenneth. This is Mary. Could you put Charlie on the phone?” she said.
“Sure!” said Kenneth. He sounded cheerful. “Your voice will be his greatest inspiration at the climax of our experiment which is almost finished. What an extraordinary woman you are! You take such good care of your future husband.”
Mary’s face fell in desperation.
“Please, Kenneth,” she interrupted, barely able to keep her composure.
“Just a minute.”
Kenneth handed the receiver to Charlie. He was flustered.
“I’m sorry, Darling,” he said, his voice muffled. “But once again, I got so caught up in my experiment that I forgot. But don’t worry. I’ll be right there. Please apologize to the Kallagans, Scott, and his fiancee for me.”
“Don’t bother coming,” she said, her voice cold. “Finish your experiment.”
She hung up the phone.
“Mary, hello, Mary!” Charlie shouted.
When no one responded, he shook his head in sorrow and turned to Kenneth who was in shock.
Several weeks had passed since Kreshnik’s and Mary’s night together. Every time Kreshnik went to bed, he recalled the foamy appearance of the sheets after Mary’s quiet departure. She had flown away like a swan, never again to return to Kreshnik’s corner of Paradise. Mary had left an announcement of the death of their love. Everything from that final meeting had faded: their whispers, sighs, burning kisses, passionate climaxes, everything!
Only the bedding had remained. It had frozen and become like ice that had broken loose from the polar icecaps. Kreshnik had not wanted to strip the bed because he had felt that by doing so, he would uncover a grave of buried memories.
He was sitting at his desk late in the evening, listening to one of his favorite pieces, Autumn Overture by Edvard Grieg, on the radio. The notes seemed to carry the smell of the earth, the rustling of the sad, falling leaves, the mossy scent of ancient trees, and the panting forests, enveloped in a deceptive darkness in which the shrill, whistling wind warned of a harsh winter like the winter in Kreshnik’s heart.
He reached for a book in the small bookcase on his desk. In the process, another book fell open, and a lock of hair along with a note fell onto the desk. These were Kreshnik’s only memories of Mary. He touched the lock of hair and opened the note with ardent hands. He read Mary’s declaration that their meeting had been nothing more than a vision, that she no longer existed for him, and that he should forget her.
Then the bedroom door opened. Kreshnik turned and saw James’ white hair, then James himself.
“What’s going on, Son? Has Mary got you down? You didn’t throw her out. She came here and got under the covers with you. She got what she wanted out of you and left, never to return again. What did you do wrong?”
“There you go again with the same old song,” said Kreshnik, irritated.
“It’s my right. After all, she didn’t come on to you. You came on to her. If she has an itch down there, let her tell you what to do. Then you will jump on her and not the other way around.”
“You still don’t understand, James. I loved her and I still do, but I will respect her wishes. We won’t see each other anymore.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Why get all worked up over her? She’s through with you. She’s with her fiancee now. If you asked me to, I swear to God I could find you ten women better than that wench, Mary. At least she got you to stop drinking. I’ll drink until I die. And she taught you how to dress like a gentleman.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times, she’s not a wench!”
“A woman who goes out with two men at the same time is a wench. Stay away from her. You don’t need to be tied up with her. When Mary sees you surrounded by all those women, she will get wet down there, run to you, and beg you to satisfy her again. Then her eyes will pop out of her head. Ha ha ha ha!”
James opened his mouth a crack, and as always, showed his few rotten teeth. (Continues)
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About the Authors
Carrie Hooper was born and raised in Elmira, New York. She has been blind since birth. She received a B.A. in vocal performance from Mansfield University, Mansfield, Pennsylvania. She went on to receive an M.A. in German and an M.A. in vocal performance from the State University of New York at Buffalo. After completing her studies, she spent a year at the Royal University College of Music in Stockholm, Sweden as a Fulbright scholar. Carrie currently lives in Elmira, New York. She taught German, Italian, and Romanian at Elmira College. She has a passion for foreign languages and in addition to the languages mentioned above, she is also proficient in Swedish, Spanish, and Albanian. Music also plays an important role in Carrie’s life. She teaches voice and piano lessons, gives vocal concerts, plays the piano and organ at a church, and sings in a community chorus. Carrie not only loves music and languages, but also enjoys poetry. She has published three books: “Piktura në fjalë” (“Word Paintings”), a bilingual collection of poetry (Albanian-English), “My Life in My Words”, and “Away from Home.” She has also translated texts from Albanian and Romanian to English.
Skifter Këllici was born in Tirana, Albania and received a diploma in history and literature from the University of Tirana. He worked as a journalist, scholar, and sportscaster on radio and television. He is the author of several novels and nonfiction books, including the children’s books, “Memories of the Old Neighborhood” and “In the Footsteps” as well as the historical novels, “Assassination in Paris”, “The Murderer with the White Hands”, and “September Disaster.” He wrote the screenplay for “In the Footsteps” which won a special prize at the International Children’s Film Festival in Giffoni, Italy in 1979. He has lived in Boston, Massachusetts since 1999.
[The book ‘Disastrous September is being reproduced in episodes with the consent of the author]
