All The People

By Annalisa Conti

Who is really Sylvia Fischer? Psychoanalyst Alexander Williams will have to unveil the truths and the mysteries behind his patient’s disappearance.

All patients have problems, and Doctor Alexander Williams knows it: that’s why they come back every week, they sit on a sofa in his psychoanalysis practice and they tell him their stories. But what is it about Sylvia Fischer that he has never been able to quite grasp? Maybe the way she never mentions her life before deciding to marry her husband: a boring, cheating, rich New York boy. Or the way she talks, with a deep voice and a British accent, even if she was born in Texas. Or maybe Dr. Williams can feel the pale halo of depression that surrounds her.

One day, Sylvia Fischer tells Dr. Williams a new story: there’s a man she’s been in love with for many years, who now wants her to run away with him. And away she goes.
Sylvia Fischer doesn’t simply leave, though, she disappears: no words are left for her husband, her two-year-old daughter, her parents. No one knows anything about that man from Sylvia’s past, but Alexander Williams wants to believe that she has found her happiness.

Until everything collapses.

New York is the host and the beating heart of this novel: the city will guide the reader through its streets, rivers and parks, inhabited by living souls and roaming ghosts of the past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Annalisa Conti
• Release date: Sep 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9780996517423

Annalisa Conti

Annalisa Conti lives and writes in New York City, where she has been spending the last few years of her life. She is a woman who writes about women, real human beings facing drama and challenges, finding happiness and rewards, succeeding and failing. Normal people. If you like Jane Austen for her honest humor, Gillian Flynn for her descent into human darkness, and Elena Ferrante for her focus on storytelling, you will find Annalisa’s tales wildly entertaining. She recently published her third novel, NINE. It is a modern tale on motherhood, a unique story about pregnancy, its hidden fears, and its untold truths. Her second novel, AFRICA, was an Amazon Kindle #1 in its category. Reviewers say it is a “fascinating” “astonishing” story of a life-changing journey to the end of the world, “powerful and dramatic, and well integrated into this incredible “decorum””. Annalisa is also the author of ALL THE PEOPLE, a novel built around a woman’s secrets. Reviewers say “you cannot put it down”, it is “capturing reader’s attention since the very first lines”, and it has a “very deep and accurate psychological perspective”. She publishes quarterly episodes in the collection of short stories THE W SERIES, which describe the world of W, a superhero like no other. Reviewers say it is "a classic action story but somehow very different from anything else", with a "writing style packed of action and visual clues as if it was taken right out of a Marvel comic strip". The first ten episodes of THE W SERIES have been collected in W IS FOR WONDER.

Book preview

Acknowledgements

The broadest thanks go to Emmanuel, who inspired me, sustained me and pushed me throughout the process of giving birth to this book. A special thanks to Libby, for reading and not completely disliking the first pages.

Jean, Wednesday June 27, 2007

- Doctor Williams? Your 4:30 pm appointment is here.

- Thank you Martin, is that Mr. Sommersville? - Martin, the doctor’s assistant, quickly nodded, standing right at the entrance of the doctor’s office - Very good, let him in, please.

Martin left the doctor at his desk on the opposite side of his office, and walked back into the waiting room, approaching the tall man that was seating on one of the armchairs: - Mr. Sommersville, the doctor is waiting for you.

Thomas Sommersville walked into the doctor’s office.

- How are you today Mr. Sommersville? Is it going to be the sofa or the chair? - Dr. Williams asked with a smile, greeting his patient from his side of the table.

- It’s a sofa day, doctor: it has been quite a bad week.

Dr. Williams kept a polite smile on his face, opened his notebook and looked for the first blank page, while Mr. Sommersville was settling in. For some reason the doctor had never gotten into using voice recorders during patient discussions: he felt they were too intrusive, whereas the soft scribbling noise accompanied their voices.

- My daughter came home for dinner a few days ago. She doesn’t have classes right now, but she is still in the city, and still comes home for dinner at least once a week. I think I already told you that she started college last year: she picked Columbia, so that she could stay close to home, close to me, and come visit as often as possible. She’s a great kid.

So she came home for dinner on Thursday, I think. She looked as happy and wide-eyed as usual. She was wearing a nice and bright summer dress, and she had even done something funny with her hair, she said it was on purpose for the night, for me, you see? She was very happy. And dinner was very pleasant: we spent our night on the terrace, my housemaid cooked Italian, my daughter Julia told me everything about the books that she is reading for the English class that she will start after summer, and how many friends she has at college, and how everything is exciting and making her want to know the world. She is nineteen, who doesn’t want to know the world when they’re nineteen?

Dr. Williams was not sure where Mr. Sommersville was going with all that: it didn’t look like anything too bad could happen at a father and daughter dinner. But Mr. Sommersville had become a very pessimistic man after his wife had died some years before, a man who thought nothing could just go well, anymore. He had gotten depressed: that’s how he had met Dr. Williams.

Thomas Sommersville used to work in London, in some investment bank. A man extremely dedicated to his work, and his family. Up to feeling guilty about his wife’s death: he felt he hadn’t done enough for her, he hadn’t spent enough time with her or money for her treatments. Of course it wasn’t his fault: cancer had just taken her, and she had left him in a house full of medicines, memories, and little Julia. He had escaped from London to New York City with a ten-year-old child, hoping to forget. It hadn’t worked out that well: during the nine years spent in Manhattan, Thomas Sommersville had lost some hair and gained some weight, but nothing else had changed. Dr. Williams had given him some relief in the two years they had been seeing each other every week, but his wounds were taking time to heal.

- We were at the tiramisu - Mr. Sommersville was still talking - when Julia made her face, the face that says Dad I have something to tell you that I don’t know how to handle, so I’ll just spit it out. It always gets me scared. So she goes:

Dad I have something to tell you, but I don’t quite know where to start from. As I told you Doctor, I knew she was going to say so.

So I’ll just spit it out: I met someone and Doctor you can imagine how this killed me!

- Mr. Sommersville, your daughter is nineteen, it is normal that she meets people, that she falls in love: that happens to everyone, sooner or later.

- She is too young, and this man is so much older than she is, and he’s a lawyer, I’m sure he knows how to manipulate her.

Mr. Sommersville looked older and more tired at each word, as if talking about his troubles was letting his strength escape from him, breath after breath. Sometimes it’s hard for parents to realize their children are growing up.

- She said she met him for the first time through some school friend, and they didn’t even talk then, she just stared at him. Teenagers are so silly!

Then she saw him again and they talked about books, and politics, and that was it: she was madly in love with him and she was sure he loved her too, at least as much as she did. How silly is this?

- Mr. Sommersville, I am sure you want your child to be happy, and have a fulfilling life, isn’t it true?

Mr. Sommersville looked pensive - Sure I want her to be happy, this is not the matter. The matter is that she doesn’t know what can make her happy: she’s only nineteen, she’s learning about life and its troubles. She is just a child, Doctor, this is the truth. And I’m already too lonely to be left alone by her.

- This is the point - the doctor smiled and bent forward on the table, to come closer to the sofa where Mr. Sommersville was lying lower and lower - This is the point that you need to remember: she is not leaving you. She is as alive and happy as all teenagers, and you should cherish these days with her, accompany her in her discovery of life. It may bring her joy or disappointment, and it will surely bring you anxiety and worries, but this is what parents do, and this is what she needs you for now.

- Maybe we can move to California and start fresh…

- Running away is not the solution, Thomas, you can do better than this.

Dr. Williams sighed and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall in front of him: it said 5:35.

- Our time is up for today, Mr. Sommersville; I will see you next Wednesday.

Thomas Sommersville thanked him with a brief handshake, and left the office.

Dr. Williams looked outside his window: a strong June’s sun was covering New York City, and he decided he was done for the day. Mr. Sommersville was his last patient, and discussion notes could wait till the following day.

He put his notebook back in the first drawer of the table, closed the drawer with its key and walked towards the clothes hanger that was standing next to his office door. He slid the drawer’s key in his jacket’s pocket, where he had left his phone in the morning. It was still there; a text message from his brother Ed, an email from his school of medicine and a couple of messages from his friends Andy and Sarah. Not too bad for a Wednesday, considering that Martin was managing his office correspondence.

- Martin, I’m going home - The doctor said, opening his office door and walking towards Martin’s desk in the waiting room - You should do the same.

- I will in a minute, Doctor Williams, I’m rearranging a couple of patients for tomorrow afternoon: Sylvia Fischer cannot come before 5 pm.

- That’s fine, I will keep my calendar checked, as usual, for any last second update. These days people can honor a spinning class more likely than a doctor’s appointment.

Martin repressed a laugh - Don’t be so cynical doctor, your patients are quite good people.

- You are right Martin, they quite are.

It was quite a hike from his office in Washington Square to his apartment in Columbus Circle, but Dr. Williams always tried to walk all the way up north as often as possible. He liked the southern Fifth Avenue: quiet residential buildings, far enough from the fancy European designer shops and their head-to-toe branded clients. After the Flatiron, he took Broadway on the left and sank into the sea of tourists that were roaming between Macy’s, Victoria’s Secrets and H&M; he swam to Times Square with them, took a picture of two Portuguese with the Naked Cowboy and kept pacing up. Central Park was almost in sight, so he turned left and got to his building in a few more seconds.

The evening doorman was already there: - Hello Doctor, nice weather outside, right?

- You’re right Harold, nice weather outside. Have a good one.

He liked his apartment: full of windows and sunlight, a decent view that always accompanied him in his working nights; a nice and clean place, but his housekeeper deserved full credit for that.

Emma, Thursday June 28, 2007

Wake up. 6:45 am, the alarm went on and then off with a touch of Dr. Williams’ hand: he was already awake.

He checked his phone to see who was his first patient of the day, and found Leslie Connors. She always wanted to come in as early as possible, and somehow she always managed to get to his office before him, sometimes even before Martin, and just stood either outside the main door or in the waiting room. He could picture her there: her bag in one hand, one eye on the elevator doors, a foot gently beating on the floor.

- I’m already late for her!

Dr. Williams jumped in a t-shirt and shorts: not even Leslie Connors could stop him from his morning run. It was the only moment when his brain could get some rest from all the thoughts it had to deal with: some of them coming from his patients, most of them home-made. Running left them all silent for forty-five minutes, much needed break that Dr. Williams was eager to take advantage of every day.

The A subway was entering the 59th street station when Dr. Williams, now dressed up in jacket and pants, reached the platform: perfect timing.

Less than twenty minutes later, the elevator doors were opening at the 11th floor of his office building. He quickly stuck his head out: no sign of Leslie Connors. He looked at his phone, 8:01 am: he couldn’t believe she was late!

She wasn’t: Martin had arrived a few minutes before and opened the office, so when Dr. Williams entered he could see her standing there: her bag in one hand, both eyes at the office doors.

- Good morning Miss Connors, how are you today? Good morning Martin, did you have a nice evening? Miss Connors, please feel free to join me in my office, whenever you’re ready.

- Right away, Doctor, right away! - Her voice was both sweet and sour at the same time, her manners both polite and short. She was a complex woman, and a complex patient.

Leslie Connors followed the doctor into his office, and she couldn’t notice Martin’s half smile behind her.

- Do you need time to set up, doctor? I can just sit here on the sofa and wait for you.

Dr. Williams shut his office door and left his jacket on the clothes hanger.

- Not at all, Miss Connors, I just need to take my notebook and I’ll be ready. How are we doing today? - He added while sitting at the table and opening the notebook at the first blank page.

- We’re doing good, I think. Just a few days ago I was talking to Cora, and I had a pretty smart idea I am very proud of.

- Who is Cora? - Dr. Williams asked with genuine interest: Miss Connors somehow seemed to know all the rich women living in New York City, but almost every week she could come up with a brand new name.

- Cora is a new girl that I met through my friend Jennifer, I’m sure I told you about Jennifer.

Dr. Williams nodded with a smile: Jennifer was one of the most recurring names in Miss Connors’ weekly conversations. She was the ideal that Leslie Connors was pursuing: married with a Wall Street guy, duplex somewhere on Park Avenue, baby on the way.

- Cora is the sweetest girl I’ve ever met, she’s so nice. She’s very young, I mean she’s a bit younger than me, since she is twenty-five, I think. She grew up in some little town in Kentucky, a cute farming village, so she has this natural countryside inclination to being nice and very respectful with everyone. It is something so rare here in Manhattan: I mean, we born-and-raised New Yorkers are absolutely decent, but all these other people who come here and think they’re better than everyone else… They can be so impolite and aggressive, I don’t like them. But Cora is different, she is genuinely nice, and when she tells me that I’m pretty in my outfit, or that Jessica is such an amazing person, I know she really means it. I’m sure you understand, Doctor. You are a New Yorker, too, right?

- I was born in California, but my parents moved to Brooklyn when I was a teenager, so it is up to you if you want to consider me a New Yorker or a nasty immigrant.

Dr. Williams smiled. He loved challenging her on her (too many) certainties: her lack of judgment on her own beliefs made her completely unprepared to failure, and this caused in her a dangerous alternation of very excited and incredibly depressed periods.

- Oh you are a New Yorker for sure, Doctor, you are way too intelligent to be a foreigner. Anyway, Cora is also very beautiful: she has a natural, simple and slightly overweight charm that could make her very interesting for any man. Would you like to meet her, Doctor?

Dr. Williams eyebrows jumped all the way up to his hairline: during the previous three years, Leslie Connors had tried many times to set him up with some of her girlfriends, and every time Dr. Williams had had to explain her that no, thank you, but he was perfectly fine. Not that he didn’t like meeting new people: he was quite a social person. He was just pretty sure that he didn’t want to meet Miss Connors’ friends: set aside the medical ethics question of creating a personal relationship with one of his patients or any of her friends, he thought that her metrics to judge if a woman could be interesting for a man were quite off.

- Oh I know, Doctor - She continued, without waiting for an answer - You already explained to me the medical ethics point, but I really think that Cora is great.

Anyway, I will get to the point. As soon as I met Cora, at a brunch last Sunday, I thought that she would be perfect for a person that I know. He is a friend of Jennifer’s husband’s, he grew up in a farming or countryside place or something like this, so he shares the same background with Cora! And he majored in geology at college, which you will agree with me is connected to the environment and the earth and nature, so even better. Such a perfect match!

Dr. Williams sighed: - Miss Connors, what did we say about matchmaking?

- I know Doctor, I know, but this is a sure thing!

- Leslie, what did we say about matchmaking? - Dr. Williams repeated the question with a firmer voice and a more profound look in Leslie Connors’ eyes.

- We said it is not good for my emotional balance.

- And why so, Leslie? - Patronizing with Miss Connors was the most effective way to have her focused on Dr. Williams’ words, and to help her rationalize her thoughts.

- Because I get very excited about the matches that I plan for, and very delusional when they don’t come true.

- This is very good, Miss Connors, very good. We have to keep this in mind all the time: we want to keep your emotional balance as strong as possible, so that you can walk steadily and happily every day. This is very important.

- I know Doctor, I know. Thank you for reminding me this all the time, I really need it. I always feel stronger when I come out of your office! So, do you think that Cora and the geologist wouldn’t be a good match?

- I don’t know, Miss Connors, and neither do you, this is the point: people aren’t always a good match, even if they look good on paper. People’s characters may be very different, even if they have similar backgrounds and jobs. This is true for friendships, as well: for example, not all my friends are doctors! And I am sure that not all your friends are wealthy women in their late twenties or early thirties, who live in the Upper East Side, right?

- You’re absolutely right, Doctor: Sheila lives in SoHo!

A squeaking alarm went on.

- I’m sorry Doctor, but it’s 9 am and I need to go. See you next week.

She was out in a second, leaving Dr. Williams with an agile hand waving. He was sure that next week she would come back with some news on how the first meeting between Cora and the poor guy did go. She was not going to change. She had improved, indeed, since the first time she had come into his office: she very rarely had depression episodes nowadays, but she always put herself in tricky situations, where failure was the most likely result. She always blamed her family for her own absence of measure: her mother was very much like Leslie Connors herself. And her father was now almost