Alistair felt as if Dr. Volk had slapped him. He breathed deep and clenched his fists, trying to control his anger.
“Stop, Alistair. Don’t be always so in control. This is tiring and damaging. Here is the right place to vent all your anger and frustrations.” Dr. Volk waited but Alistair didn’t say a word. “You lost all the women of your life in a short period of time. Your wife, your daughter and then your mother. People confuse life and death. Life comprises sadness, pain
and
death. No one can escape those and surrending to those feelings helps healing. The depression-”
“You want me to succumb to depression as my mother did?” Alistair asked incredulous. “What good did that do to her? No. I’m going to fight against all those debilitating feelings.”
“I’m not suggesting you become depressed and lose all your strength. Appropriate bereavement is normal and even healthy and it will lessen and pass in time, while major depression may not and requires treatment. Alistair, unresolved grief is worse than the grief itself. Since Natalie’s death, have you been living a normal, happy and healthy life? You told me that you lost the ability to trust others, that you avoided relationships and felt emotionally numb. Do you still feel like this?”
For many seconds, Alistair stayed silent, revisiting the last months. When he answered, his voice was full of awe. “Nae. She came and changed everything.” He closed his eyes and whispered, “As if by magic, Sophia changed everything.”
“Magic.” Dr. Volk smiled. “If you want to call trusting, caring and feeling magic, so be it.” The doctor leaned in Alistair’s direction. “Because from what you told me, Sophia isn’t afraid of trusting, caring and feeling. I guess she is just organizing her life to show herself fully to you. Because one cannot invite the other to share one’s life if one is not whole. This, Alistair, is her magic. Unfortunately, our time is over. I have an... assignment for you. I want you to reflect on how you feel now that you are in a steady relationship. What did Sophia do to change your feelings? What about her makes you feel so right? There’s a poem I like very much. Renascence by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I’ll send it to you by email and I want you to read it and tell me your impressions. We will talk about it on Thursday.”
The City of London Bank Headquarters.
10.17 a.m.
“Davidoff, good morning. How may I help you?” Alistair’s deep voice sounded tired and despondent even for himself.
“What have you done to her?” asked Edward, his voice tinged with anger.
What?
“I...” he halted, and looked astonished at his brother, who raised an eyebrow. He put the call on speaker. “I’ve done nothing. Where is she?”
“She is gone. Nobody knows where she is. She left you a letter,” a heavy breath was exhaled.
“She is... gone,” he repeated in a murmur, frowning.
Gone... Where? Why?
10.29 a.m.
Alistair strode down the marble corridor that led to the garage like a man possessed. What Edward had just said still echoed in his mind. He remembered Sophia’s civil and distant manner.
I am such a fool! It’s all my fault. I should have known she would uncover my darkness. One way or another.
They entered the car and Alistair informed Garrick, “Leibowitz Oil Building, please. I’m in a hurry.”
Why didn’t she call me? Why leave a written message? And with Davidoff, for Christ’s sake?
Alistair shoved his sunglasses on his face, impatiently.
She is afraid of you, you idiot!
Alistair felt Tavish’s hand on his shoulder. He wanted to snarl but it was no use taking out his confused feelings on his brother.
“Calm down, Alistair Connor. You know he’s partially right.”
He fisted his hands trying to control his jealousy and his rage and turned to look at Tavish. “He thinks too much of himself. He shouldn’t have opened her letter to me. To me! He has feelings for her, Tavish Uilleam.”
“Who doesn’t like Sophia? She’s sugar coated. And he’s known her for a long time.”
“He has other interests at stake. She gave him five percent of Leibowitz Oil.” He thinned his lips.
“Don’t underestimate Sophia’s ensnaring capacity. He must be worried sick about her. I am. She’s just remembered what happened to her. Months of horror. Can you imagine how confused her mind is right now? You shouldn’t have proposed on Sunday,” Tavish shook his head, “it was tactless of you.”
Alistair punched his fist on the leather car seat, “Fuck! Do you think that’s why she fled?”
“Oh, man,” Tavish murmured under his breath and shoved his hand in his ink-black hair, weighing his words. “Alistair, she discovered your preferences. How, I don’t know. Maybe she did the same thing you did. I doubt it, though. It doesn’t fit her character. She is too honorable.”
“What did I do?” Alistair frowned at his brother’s choice of words looking out through the tinted windows at the intense traffic. He glanced at Tavish again, the crease in his forehead deepening, “So, what did I do that was so dishonorable?”
“You hired a private detective-”
“A detective, that’s it,” he interrupted brusquely and pulled his cell phone from his breast pocket, dialing a number. “Baptist, good morning, it’s Alistair Connor MacCraig. I need you to find Mrs. Sophia Leibowitz and her daughter. They left London today and I need to know where they’ve gone.” He listened for a split second and rushed in, “Stop everything else you’re doing. I’m doubling your fees. I’ll transfer half of it right now.”
“Alistair Connor!” Tavish scolded his brother, but Alistair just held up his hand, stopping him while he listened to what Baptist was saying.
Alistair didn’t even acknowledge Tavish’s outraged gasp as he settled the price. “Done. I’ll deposit half right now and the other half when you find her.”
“I don’t believe it, Alistair Connor.”
“Anything for her. Anything,” he whispered the last word.
Tavish had seen Alistair wield his power to achieve his position at the bank and on the stock market, glorying at other people’s downfall. He had seen his brother seduce many women with sensual elegance and a cold heart simply to amuse himself.
Yet the man beside him in the car was broken. Broken by unrequited love. And this love inside him was as dangerous as it was gentle and compelling.
Tavish understood then that the darkness in Alistair could only be controlled by Sophia. She was the only one who had that power.
Tavish only didn’t know if Sophia should be envied or pitied.
Leibowitz Oil Building, Sophia’s office.
10.57 a.m.
April 06
th
, 2010.
My dear Alistair Connor,
I hope this letter finds you well.
I’m sure you’re going to find this - what to call it - confession (?) quite confusing. It is. It just reflects my feelings. I’ve tried to put my thoughts in some sort of order but I’m too overwhelmed by what I remembered and what I discovered this weekend. So, I’m going to do this in parts.
Let’s start with what I discovered. I think you’ll understand this part better.
First of all, I have to apologize and say that it wasn’t intentional. I was a bit dizzy yesterday morning probably due to a combination of drugs. I steadied myself on a door in your dressing room and it opened. (I don’t need to say which door or what I saw inside, do I?)
At first, I thought it was interesting, creative even. I was amazed at finding myself wanting to get you to explain things to me, maybe even try them. But as I opened the next door... Curiosity killed the cat, isn’t that what they say? Well, at first, I didn’t understand what I was seeing. Then I started to put things together. What you told me about Heather - and her perversions - and your sometimes unusual behavior in bed gave me a clue. And I wondered where it would lead us. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. So I did some research. In loco and on line. And still... I don’t understand how or why most of those things are used. I was shocked and felt utterly betrayed. Is that what you meant by a touch of pain and violence? Understatement of the year.
Some would say that I’m being naïve and prudish. That it’s just a different way of loving. To that I’d answer that I have some sense of self-preservation and that I’m not devoid of self-esteem. I’ve even read that it can brings transcendental gratification and orgasm. How? I wonder... Just for the record, some say that of drugs too. But I digress.
For me, that is not sex, that is not love. It’s cruelty, torture. There is no love in pain, in humiliation of the other. This kind of ‘role-play’ or ‘loving’, as some insist on calling it, reminds me of the Spanish Inquisition, slavery, and of some barbaric mutilations that we know are still being done in Africa and who knows where else.
I can’t abide it. I won’t abide it. It’s not in my nature to quietly accept these kinds of things. And even though I have a very curious mind, I don’t want to learn these things. Now I understand why you told me I was your salvation from the dark abyss. However I can’t redeem you. Only you can help yourself. Unless you seek counseling to help you really get away - be cured(?) - from this strange compulsion, I will not be your salvation. On the contrary, I’ll be your destruction. And you’ll be mine.
You know what I like in sex and that’s not it. I don’t like pain. I don’t need it to enhance my pleasure. I’ll go further and say that you do not like or need it either. You know how to be gentle, loving and protective. How to be fierce, even savage sometimes - my overbearing Lord Caveman. You’re lovable. You’re not selfish or callous in your relationships. This is a horrible opinion you have of yourself. You have a heart. And it’s not dark.
I hope you let go of this need to take revenge on yourself.
Bury your wife. Forever. Let her rot in hell. By herself.
Give your daughter’s soul some peace. I’m sure she doesn’t blame you for what happened. Some angels are too good to live their entire lives in this inferno. They come to Earth for only a short time because they have a mission. She had completed hers.
Nothing happens without a reason. It’s not in us to understand them. It’s very difficult to accept some things. I know. It’s human nature to rebel against what we can’t control and what causes us distress. But sometimes rebellion and rage don’t help our cause. Acceptance and love do.
Now, I must face my part in our wreckage.
I haven’t been forthcoming with you. I betrayed you when I omitted and lied. And I’m so sorry. I’m not the good, perfect woman you pictured. I did a very shameful and reproachable thing in my past. If regret could kill, I would be dead by now.
Some say that G-d doesn’t give us more than we can handle. So I must endure it. However, I can’t burden you with more than you already carry.
Let me be blunt: I committed a crime. A huge one. I wish I could say that I did it because I wasn’t in my right mind but... That would be a lie. Another lie. I’m done with lies. To my credit, all I can say is that I’ve been redeeming myself - or, at least, trying to, if there is any possibility of redemption. Nevertheless, I don’t think it would be fair with you if I had accepted your proposal and withheld such a secret from you. Surely, it would fester and corrupt our marriage.
You told me I could trust you. I do. But I cannot tell you this. You have no idea. And I don’t want you to. And you also wouldn’t want to. Trust me. (Oh. Such an unfair request. But isn’t life?) I have tried to put myself in your place as I wrote this and I’m deeply ashamed of my behavior.
Thank you for all your patience with me; for all your caring and love toward Gabriela.
Concerning my lies to you, in my defense, all I can say is that I just can’t destroy the beautiful image you have of me. (Even though it’s a lie.)
Selfish, you would accuse and I agree. But... This is how I am. A selfish woman. A liar. A criminal.
The third part. The conclusion.
Our relationship is doomed. I wish it wasn’t so but I can’t fool myself anymore. In the long run it’s going to destroy me. You. Us. And I can’t allow it.
I hope you find happiness in your life. Nothing is more powerful than your own wish. So, wish to love and to be loved. You’ll achieve it.
I was not as strong and courageous as I should have been. Please, I beg you, don’t be angry and try to understand.
I’m so very sorry it has come to this.This decision is tearing me apart and I hurt. This isn’t what I planned or imagined but it’s beyond my control. My heart bleeds while I write this letter because I know that I’m leaving a piece of it with you. A big piece.
So, I wish it weren’t but this is: Good-bye.
Please, don’t call me. I need space to rebuild my life. And Gabriela’s.
With all my love,
Sophia
P.S. - I know it’s very impolite to return gifts but this one had a very important meaning for us.
So, I’m giving you your heart back and I’m holding you responsible of taking good care of it. Don’t waste it on undeserving women like me.
S.
Tavish finished reading the letter and studied his brother’s dejected posture as Alistair caressed the exquisite ruby on the clip which Sophia had returned. As he gave Alistair back the letter, he said, “I... I don’t know what to say.”
Alistair turned from the window. “Dr. Kent? Have you read Sophia’s letter?”
“No, Mr. MacCraig, I haven’t. I was waiting for your permission.” She glanced briefly at Edward, who was looking at the ceiling as if it had the answer to all his questions.
Alistair sighed and handed her the letter. He tilted his head to the side, studying Edward.
Edward’s anguish was palpable. The white lines around his lips betrayed his concern and his anger.
“Davidoff-”
“MacCraig,” Edward’s voice was dry, “I have to apologize. For opening the letter. But I thought, from what I saw on her computer, that matters had gotten out of hand.”