“A Book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us,”
Franz Kafka
SACHA—The Way Back
ALEXANDER TRILOGY, BOOK III
Sequel to Alec and Alexander
A novel by
Stan I.S. Law
KINDLE EDITION
BY INHOUSEPRESS, MONTREAL, CANADA
Copyright © Stanislaw Kapuscinski 2002 and 2008
eBook Edition 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, titles, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover design by Bozena Happach. Sculpture by Stanislaw Kapuscinski
CONTENTS
PART ONE—Innocence
Chapter 1. Suzy
Chapter 2. Grandma ‘Licia
Chapter 3. Alexander Baldwin Ph.D.
Chapter 4. Grandpa Desmond
Chapter 5. Mr. and Mrs. Norman
Chapter 6. Sacha
PART TWO—The Search
Chapter 7. The Rites of Passage
Chapter 8. A Matter of Fact
Chapter 9. Apron Strings
Chapter 10. Scholarship
Chapter 11. Self-realization
Chapter 12. You’re Never Alone
PART THREE—The Journey
Chapter 13. Reunion
Chapter 14. Not Bread Alone
Chapter 15. Mother’s Town
Chapter 16. The Red Lights
Chapter 17. Once more LA
Chapter 18. The Danger Signs
PART FOUR—The Way Back
Chapter 19. Jail
Chapter 20. Deborah
Chapter 21. A Stranger in a Strange Land
Chapter 22. First Signs
Chapter 23. The Debate
Chapter 24. The Trial
Chapter 25. The Destiny
Epilogue
PART ONE
Innocence
“Every act of rebellion expresses a nostalgia for innocence and an appeal to the essence of being.”
Albert Camus
Chapter 1
Suzy
“It was not at all like his father,” Suzy mused, aloud, smiling against her will. “This was no peek-a-boo. Not by a long shot.”
She was desperately trying to make sense, find some rational explanation, for Sacha’s behaviour before alerting her husband. She’d have to tell him, of course. Sooner or later. Or... or she could wait for Alec to find out for himself. It was bound to happen again.
Suzy recalled that she’d once referred to Alec’s odd behaviour as “peek-a-boo”. This was way back in Montreal, when she had no idea what game her husband-to-be had been playing. At least then, she’d suspected, it might have been some kind of a game. What else could have it been? She did not believe in miracles––then or now—though since, she’d drawn different conclusions. The whole world was a miracle. Every rose, every common or garden flower, every sunset or sunrise was a miracle; although, of late, the latter was a rare occasion. In Los Angeles the mornings tend to be foggy. The sun comes out a little later, shyly creeping out of the morning mists, which drift from the mighty Pacific toward the distant hills. Or do they slide down the mountains? She forgot.
Anyway, her mind was elsewhere.
At the time of Alec’s peculiar behaviour, Suzy and Alec had just become officially engaged. Unofficially they practically tied the knot at least a dozen times. But it was only after they had ‘permanently’ moved in together that she’d first noticed his habit of shifting position. That’s what she’d called his peek-a-boo syndrome. A number of symptoms, an array of inexplicable tidbits, but always connected with Alec’s strange if innocuous idiosyncrasies. One moment he was there, or here, the next, virtually in the same instant, she’d see him a few feet away, acting as though nothing had happened. Since then they had both reached their conclusions of what it was all about. Whatever the truth, it was nothing like Sacha’s performance. Actually, over time, Sacha had, once or twice, emulated his father’s odd behaviour. Well, say a dozen times, but that last one was different. Quite different.
And much, much stranger.
Suzy recalled that long before his peek-a-boo antics, Alec had displayed quite unprecedented imagination. Even as a lad. Long before they’d shared countless experiences for which there was no rational explanation. Only their shared experiences belonged to the inner world, a realm as subjective as ones own subconscious; whereas with Sacha...
Her mind drifted even further back to the day when she and Alec had first met. When they first saw each other. She smiled at the unexplainable, at the time seemingly forbidden yet so attractive guiles of the opposite sex. They’d both been around fourteen then. She, a lithe, long-haired girl brimming with youthful confidence, he an awkward lad who had little to show for himself other than a magnificent mop of hair. It crowned his head as the branches crown a deciduous tree. She’d half-expected robins to take flight from it. And then he dove into the water and the mop was gone. When he’d come up for air, his crowning glory drifted behind him like a wake following a boat. Luckily, his hair seemed to spring back into life minutes after he climbed aboard his father’s yacht. And it turned out that he had a great deal more to show than his mane.
Later. Much later.
But even then... She smiled at the thoughts she’s never shared with anyone.
Her mind flashed back to the tango they’d danced at the school prom. She recalled the gaping mouths of other youths as she and Alec swept the floor with contrived arrogance. The others had been capable of little more than twitching, roughly in time with the beat. She and Alec, well, they’ve been dancing. Really dancing. She admitted later, if only to herself, that the relative rigidity of her movements had not been intentional. It had nothing to do with the Latin rhythms. She’d been scared stiff. Literally. In seconds they’d remained the only couple on the dance floor. The others drifted to adorn the walls.
She shrugged at her memories.
She also recalled responding to Alec’s apparent confidence with stiff, jerky movements, worthy of the best professional ballroom dancers she’d seen later on TV. At the time she’d had no idea just how good she’d been. Way back when... when Sacha was not even a spark in his father’s eye…
All her memories invoked smiles. It was hard to believe that when they’d met, Alec was still ‘two’. In a matter of speaking. He was still Alec and Sandra. It was before he became Alexander. Until he became one...
Sacha’s antics were definitely not of the peek-a-boo variety. They were more like the boo with the peek left in abeyance. There was no name for it. Unless you believed in ghosts. Or spirits? Or anything equally as absurd...
It had started, in earnest, just after Sacha’s 10th birthday. To celebrate the first decade of their first-born, Grandma had given Sacha two Siamese kittens. Suzy realized later that she shouldn’t have done it, but she’d called them Peeka and Boo. Guess why? They were the sweetest bundles of joy Suzy had ever laid eyes on. And although the two played havoc with the furniture, the problem didn’t lie with them.
One day, Suzy was reading when the two sprites darted in front of her nose. It wasn’t the first time. Only this time they jumped upwards, and seemed to land on something that enabled them to remain suspended in the air for a few seconds, before continuing their wild chase around the room. Moments later Suzy noticed one other thing. Sacha who seconds ago was standing by the window trying to attract the kittens’ attention, suddenly found himself by the far wall, on the other side of the bed. Now i
f this were his father, Suzy would have said: “Oh no! Not the peek-a-boo again.”
But it hadn’t been Sacha’s father. Dad Alec still hadn’t returned from the university.
And then, there was the question of the kittens remaining suspended in mid-air, at arms’ length from her, by the edge of the bed. Just in front of the space where Sacha appeared a second later.
This was no peek-a-boo. Sacha had not shifted positions at supraluminal speed. She’d witnessed, indeed shared in, a number of strange (to say the least) experiences with Sacha, even with Sacha and her husband––altogether, but all those events had been of the ‘inner’ variety. They could have been assigned to the inner, the subliminal, the imaginary realm. To joint hallucinations, if you must. We all have them, occasionally, don’t we? Well, some of us. We all have stories to tell that only make sense to us. But this?
This was a physical impossibility.
At least in the realm of physics—as she’d known physics. What on Earth would Alec say? Sacha’s father was a scientist. An established physicist, with a Ph.D. to his name.
Finally, Suzy gathered all her courage. She knew that she hadn’t imagined things. She knew that she was sane. She’d decided to trust her visual perception.
“What happened, Sacha?” She tried to make her voice as normal as she could.
Sacha did not stop playing. The kittens held all his attention. A second later he disappeared again and Boo missed him in full flight. Peeka continued to peek from behind the chair. But no harm came to Boo. Sacha caught him in flight and gently brought him down to his chest. The kitten purred so loudly that Suzy could hear him across the room.
“What happened Sacha?” she repeated.
“What do you mean, Mom?”
“You know what I mean.”
She tried to sound stern. It wasn’t easy, as she had no idea what it was exactly that she was supposed to be stern about.
“You mean my... my...” Sacha obviously was missing the right words. “What do you mean, Mom?” he repeated, as though playing for time. Then, realizing that he would not get away with pleading ignorance he added: “Dad will explain.”
And that was that.
For the whole of next week Suzy could not bring herself to raise the problem with Alec. Sacha continued with the game that the kittens obviously adored, but only after he’d promised not to repeat, whatever it was that he was doing, outside the bedroom doors. Suzy was worried what effect his antics might have on Alicia and Desmond. In spite of Alec’s and her own tendency towards periodically eccentric behaviour, neither Des nor Alec’s mother gave any indication that they suspected anything unusual.
Sacha called the game hide’n seek. He would hide and the kittens would have to find him. Only Sacha’s method of hiding was... unusual. He’d become invisible. And, to Suzy’s and later Alec’s amazement both, Peeka and Boo, continued to find him much faster than either of his parents could. The kittens knew something they didn’t. It wasn’t fair.
When Sacha’s father was about the same age, he already showed an extremely keen, perhaps over-developed imagination. It became so vivid that whatever he’d imagined became real. At least to him—to young Alec. Long before he became Alexander.
And then the problems began in earnest.
One day, Suzy and Alec were on the terrace overlooking the brooding gray rollers drawing towards them over the endless Pacific. The waves seemed to have spent their energies and lapped the shore gently, as though exhausted after a long journey. There was no wind. All was quiet, almost too quiet. Suzy became somewhat drowsy, while Alec, as was his habit, allowed his eyes to drift towards the horizon.
It was then that Sacha disappeared.
One moment he was sitting by the coffee table playing with his Strato Set, the next he wasn’t there.
Thankfully, neither Alicia nor Des seemed to have noticed the event. Neither, at first, had Alec nor Suzy. Then, slowly, Alec nudged Suzy on the elbow.
“A good trick that,” he murmured, pointing to the Strato structure on the small table.
He was referring to a male interlocking piece insinuating itself into a female receptacle with perfect precision. Suzy snapped out of her sleepy state only to catch her breath. As she watched, the next piece of the Strato puzzle lifted itself from the table, remained poised in the air without any visible means of support; then it drifted towards its destination in the growing construction.
“Easy, girl...”
Alec put his hand on Suzy’s arm as leaned over towards the table.
“Come on, son. That’s enough of that...”
The next instant first Sacha’s hand, holding the next block of brightly coloured plastic, then the rest of him reappeared beside them. He seemed as preoccupied with his toy construction as ever.
“Sorry, Dad, I wasn’t thinking...”
Neither of his parents made any comments. They could not think of anything wise or profound to say. Sacha was ten at the time. Ten years and three weeks. They both wondered what lay ahead of him. Ahead for them all.
In some ways, Suzy was glad. Had she told Alec about Sacha’s hide’n seek frolics, she would have risked her scientifically minded husband telling her to take some time off and relax. He’d have told her that she was a little tired, that she ought to paint a little less and spend more time on the beach. And she would end up throwing an assortment of slippers at him in exasperation. And he would dodge her missiles...
Now Alec had witnessed Sacha’s disappearing trick. What she couldn’t figure out was why he did not seem disturbed by it. He seemed to have taken it in his stride, as though it was perfectly normal for his first-born to disappear into thin air.
“Actually, it’s quite thick. I think we are in for a lengthy drizzle.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Suzy forgot that Alec had the ability to read her thoughts. Not always, and not all her thoughts––but thoughts which were ‘pregnant with emotions’ and which concerned him. They’d first noticed this ability of his some years ago. It was neither good nor bad. It just was.
“You thought about thin air,” he explained.
“Very funny!”
Only she wasn’t amused. Sacha was a perfect child. Wonderful, bright, smart, you name it. Only she wished he wouldn’t... disappear. Who could tell? Perhaps one day he would disappear and not find his way back? Her eyes were turning moist. What if he...
“Don’t be silly, darling. This could not happen. Nothing in the world can disappear.”
“He does!”
“It only seems like it. Trust me. Sacha is perfectly all right.”
“B-b-but... but...” Now her eyes were completely wet.
“I knew that drizzle was coming,” he joked, but walked over and knelt next to Suzy’s deck chair. She pressed her face into his chest.
“There, now… there. Trust me Sue. Just trust me.”
He might try to explain to his wife what had happened, but in her present emotional state she was unlikely to understand it; and even if she did, she would probably reject his explanation. It had to wait.
For the next few weeks Suzy continued painting. She had an exhibition scheduled for the end of next month and hoped to enlarge on the number of her canvases. She wondered if she could paint a disappearing object. It would certainly be a challenge. She decided to try. She also wondered if she should share her ambition with Alicia. After all, it was Alec’s mother who encouraged her interest in painting. Without Alicia she would still be experimenting with new styles, without ever developing her own.
“Name one old master, one impressionist, or even one so-called modern painter, whose work you cannot recognize,” Alicia asked innocently.
“How can I name him or her if I cannot recognize him. Her. Whatever…”
“You know very well what I mean,” Alicia insisted.
She did. It was a little embarrassing but Alicia was usually right. It would be less embarrassing if Alec’s mother were the more ex
perienced painter. In fact, it was she, Suzy, who encouraged Alicia to take up painting again. Since then, Alicia had directed her talents towards stimulating the artistic talent latent in young people. She loved doing it and she was good, very good at it. Unfortunately she accomplished this at the expense of her own artistic development. Or perhaps, that was exactly what she was doing. Developing herself as a first-class teacher. Or motivator. Who knows what’s written in the stars for us? Most people don’t even try to find out.
As Sacha grew, painting became Suzy’s passion. At her last exhibition she’d sold nearly half of her latest paintings. First she was flabbergasted, then euphoric, and finally decided to visit the church on the hill where Alicia and Des got married, to thank God for her good fortune. The church, a chapel really, hasn’t changed. It was still whitewashed; the winding road leading up the hill to its doors was still overflowing with Bougainvilleas dressed over the low stone walls. On that little hill, time stood still. She liked that. She wondered why. Since the wedding almost ten years ago, she’d never returned there.
Perhaps time was waiting for her.
Suzy was not a religious person, but she did like the padre who refused to commit himself to any particular church. When she got to the chapel, the doors were wide open but the padre was nowhere to be seen. She realized that she’d never taken the trouble to learn his name. A most unprepossessing man. What Suzy really liked about him was his constant smile, his easy-going friendliness and complete absence of moral judgment.
Strange that, she thought, so unprepossessing––yet she could picture him so well after all these years.
She looked around.
A bunch of leaflets in a small wooden box on a table by the door caught her eye. Then she remembered. The padre offered leaflets, with telephones and addresses of, what he smilingly called, his competition. The leaflets had been laying here for ten years. Probably a lot longer. The top ones turned a bit yellow. Suzy’s only interest in religion was to protect Sacha from its influence. It wasn’t an act of premeditation. She did it impulsively, perhaps intuitively, yet, paradoxically, with a deep if unexplained premonition. Knowing how sensitive Sacha was she was afraid of what religion might do to him. She just felt, felt deeply, that she must protect him at all costs.
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