The Genovese Connection - part one

ONLINE WRITING MAGAZINE-GET READ-GET PUBLISHED-WRITING CONTESTS-BOOK PROMOTION-REVIEWS-INTERVIEWS-STORY AND ARTICLE SUBMISSION-ANGELICA PASTORELLI

1973 – somewhere in France

pesto01a The Genovese Connection part one I was 17 years old and standing with my friend Ronald on the side of a national road, trying to hitch a ride on the hottest day so far that summer. We started out early, but did very little mileage that day. Nobody seemed willing to give us a lift. It was vacation time; most drivers weary and annoyed from the heavy traffic and the heat. It was getting dark, but a bright full moon made the night seem like a surrealistic kind of daytime.

Ahead in the distance a car stopped briefly to drop a passenger off. A young female silhouette could be seen in the moonlight for a short moment, before it disappeared from sight, only to reappear from under the moon-cast shadow of a tree. As she approached us, we were intrigued by this exotic young woman who was by then smiling furtively. She asked us if we knew where to find cheap lodgings. Of course we had no idea as we were on unknown territory ourselves. I found myself unable to say something coherent at first, because of the unforeseen effect she had on me. Her eyes seemed to focus on me, and I felt uneasy but exhilarated at the same time…

“My name is Catharina”, she said. “Would you guys be so kind as to keep me company, while I figure out where to go from here?” My friend Ronald, who is an introverted person with communicative difficulties, was also apparently captivated by this woman and was rolling up his sleeves in an attempt to maintain his composure. (Years later, when I met Ronald by chance at a relative’s party, he confessed he had an ominous feeling about Catharina from the moment we had met her. I had to confess I had felt something similar…)

We walked onto the meadow bordering the road and the three of us sat down on the grass. Soon Catherina was asking me direct and personal questions, and I found myself unable to dodge any of them. In a way our first meeting had a hallucinatory quality. It was like being complete strangers and best friends at the same time. Trying to make himself scarce, Ronald was fumbling with his pocket radio, trying to find a news channel. This made the situation more intimate for Catharina and me, and our subjects became more focused on feelings and matters of the heart. A nearby owl cried its oohoo into the night and in a reflex I turned towards the direction of the sound. When I turned my attention back to Catharina, I noticed she had moved closer to me…

(to be continued – part two)