The novel ‘A Woman between Two Men’, with an Albanian-American Theme, is authored by Carrie Hooper and Skifter Këllici
Ralph spotted Mary and was shocked to see her bathed in tears. She looked with longing and sorrow at the speechless young man who, to Ralph’s astonishment, was none other than Kreshnik, but without his thick beard which had made him look rough and somber. He was the complete opposite of his former self. Just as the fabled Phoenix of the Arabian Desert died and became a new bird, so, too, Kreshnik had become a new man, more handsome, without his former killing beauty. His eyes looked sad and guilty, yet at the same time, they reflected an inner calm and gave his face a unique glow.
What had happened? Why had Mary come to Kreshnik’s house at this late hour? What was her connection with this rough, young drunk and drug dealer? When she had seen him outside of Crystal, she had shouted for help and had wanted him removed from the premises for harassing her. Ralph himself had ordered his officers to beat Kreshnik. And Charlie, who looked delirious, why was he there? Why did Mary look so distracted and why the almost lunar face?
Why had lines of sadness begun to appear on her face? When Ralph had told Wilma that Mary and Charlie were a couple to be envied, why had she fluttered her eyelids, forced a fleeting smile, and nodded? Could it be that something had started between them?
In those moments, the furrows of Ralph’s brain seemed to catch on fire and turn into a scattered, formless mass in which those questions, like burning meteorites, crashed and sank into him, creating dizzying and blinding waves of mist.
For the third time, he found himself face to face with Kreshnik. The first time Ralph had seen him, he had gotten drunk at a club. The vapors from the alcohol had appeared to cover his deep blue eyes which had turned a murky green. The second time, after the police had beaten him in front of Crystal, Kreshnik’s eyes had looked beastly and had given off red sparks which seemed to burn his face. Now his eyes looked clear and calm like the sky after a storm. He seemed to have released a heavy burden which he had been carrying for many years.
Totally at ease, Kreshnik reached his large, rough hands out to Ralph and waited for him to cuff him. Scott stood next to Ralph. At that moment, Ralph wanted to share his jumbled thoughts about everything he had witnessed. He felt that if he didn’t, they would heat up and start a fire that would devour him.
During his years as a police chief, Ralph had arrested bank robbers, murderers, financiers, forgers, and corrupt politicians. He had also arrested people who had tried to escape and had shot at officers. Their hands had trembled and they had looked terrified at the thought of their impending interrogation and trial at which they would be sentenced to many years in prison or worse, they would end up in the electric chair or with a needle in their arm.
“I have never felt sorry for criminals,” he said to Scott. “I have always been guided by the principle: `The law is cruel but it’s the law.` But Kreshnik Germeni is different.”
Kreshnik came to himself when Ralph fastened the cold cuffs to his wrists.
“Officer Kallagan,” he said with deep emotion, “I’m not sorry I’m going to prison. I deserve that. But I’m sorry the world will learn this was the fate of the son of a courageous Albanian who was murdered and is still honored today by you Americans.”
Suddenly, a wizened, somber-looking old man with white hair appeared, who was hunched over.
“My name is James Clemens,” he said, his tearful gaze fixed on Ralph. “Don’t take this young man away, kind Sirs. He was a good, bright boy, pure in heart.”
After these stunning words, James burst into tears.
“I, poor unfortunate soul that I am, did not respect the wishes of Kreshnik’s father, Loni Germeni, that brave, noble Albanian. But don’t you remember, Officer Kallagan, that you promised the dying Loni you would send Kreshnik to a children’s home? A promise you immediately forgot. Otherwise, none of this would have happened.”
The wizened old man, who could hardly stand, gave Ralph an angry look. Then he gripped his forearm so hard that he felt a sharp pain. It was amazing how strong this half-man was. Ralph suppressed a scream. After all, James had not shaken him or grabbed his arm in anger as someone else might have. In that case, Ralph would have pushed that person’s hands away, held him down, and probably hit him as he had ordered two of his officers to hit Kreshnik that day in front of Crystal when he had resisted arrest even though he felt he had acted impulsively. Indeed, he felt badly that Mary had witnessed the incident and had fainted as a result.
In those few seconds, Ralph remembered Kreshnik as a little boy just as he had when he had told Wilma, Charlie, and Mary about Kreshnik’s father’s murder. He thought about the wailing child who dried his tears with his hands, those little hands which Ralph had held in his big ones. He remembered the little boy who had laid on his chest and whom he had kissed to alleviate some of the pain of that tragedy.
Now, Ralph placed cuffs on Kreshnik’s hands. The frail, old man who had scolded him had had every right to do so.
“Kreshnik eventually ended up with me,” James continued, his foggy gaze fixed on Ralph. “And instead of teaching him to be like his father, I taught him to be a drunk. Worst of all, I introduced him to the drug business, not because I wanted to, but because Max Cooper, a dirty boss, forced me to do it. If you catch him, you will find out the naked truth. You will learn that Nik trafficked the deadly white powder for Max so I could pay off a debt. If you don’t catch Max, his lover, Dolores, will testify to these dreadful things. This is why I should go to prison, not him.”
Kreshnik remained frozen in place. James threw himself into his arms. Kreshnik wanted to stay as he was for a little while longer, but two officers pulled him aside. James’ words seemed to weigh even more on Ralph, and for the first time in his life, he was overcome by a strange urge to rebel. He was not proud to be arresting this criminal.
At that moment, he began to understand the unimaginable truth when he saw Mary standing a little way off from Kreshnik. Charlie, looking delirious, stood behind Mary. Ralph’s and Mary’s eyes met for an instant. Then, he quickly turned away from her. Suddenly, he felt as if a wall separated him from Mary. Perhaps he would find out more details later.
As twilight fell, the officers put Kreshnik in the car and closed the door. He looked out the window and saw Mary standing like a statue, her sad eyes fixed on him. He would always remember her blue eyes, as blue as a calm sea, which transmitted the words lovers have said to one another for thousands of years: “I love you and will never forget you.”
Meanwhile, Mary recalled some verses by Kadare, the world-renowned Albanian poet, which Kreshnik had whispered to her the night they were alone in a cafe, bathed in the faint glow of a nearby street lamp:
“I will remember
The infinite, quiet evening of your eyes,
The muffled sob that landed on my shoulder
Like invisible snow.”
She watched Kreshnik and felt like the ancient Helen. Just as Paris had taken her from Sparta to Troy, Kreshnik had taken her not to a city, but to his house. He and Charlie, Menelaeus, had not fought a bloody battle like the Greeks and Trojans, and no one had died. Unlike the crafty Greeks, Charlie, Menelaeus, had not kidnapped Mary, Helen, with a horse that was supposedly a gift. Rather, he had gone into that house, alone and unarmed, to take back the woman who belonged to him.
Kreshnik had turned himself into the police. He had told Mary numerous times that he would. Although she had tried to drive that dreadful thought from her mind, she knew Kreshnik had done the right thing. If he had not turned himself in, his guilty conscience would have tormented him for the rest of his life. One day, he might even have been caught and punished severely. But now, his day of reckoning had come. He could receive a short prison sentence since he turned himself in.
After the police cars had disappeared, Charlie was left shaken. He recalled his conversations with Mary and how he had not shown up for dates with her because he had gotten caught up in his work. He had seldom been present with his heart and soul. But soon he would be her husband. When he looked at her from behind and saw the glow of her hair in the twilight, her shoulders, arms, and trunk, he realized he had not gotten to know her and had not appreciated her as he should have. He wanted to remedy the situation as soon as possible. He wanted to be with her all the time, wanted to talk to her about things other than his work, and wanted more excitement with her in bed. In the meantime, the other man, who could have taken Mary away from Charlie, would languish in prison, and Mary would forget him.
She did not look at Charlie. Therefore, in an effort to apologize for the insults he had hurled at her when he had seen her in Kreshnik’s room, he took a few steps toward her, reached out his hand, and touched her hair. But she did not move or turn toward him. She remained a statue, exactly as Kreshnik imagined her. One of Charlie’s fingers found the green ribbon with which Mary had loosely tied her hair. It came undone and slid from her head to her shoulders. Charlie caught it so it wouldn’t fall to the floor. Without realizing what he was doing, he closed his eyes tightly. To his surprise, the light seemed to turn the green ribbon a pale yellow as if it were an autumn leaf. Charlie realized that the apparent change in color was a metaphor for his and Mary’s faded love. (Concludes)
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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]
