The Love of the Butterfly

By Ehud Siton

The Love of the Butterfly is the love story of two young people, he the son of a Jewish American millionaire, she a poor Puerto Rican orphan. Despite the difference of class and religion, love conquers all and binds them together. They swear an oath to the love of the butterfly; that, if one dies, the other will follow within twenty four hours. As the husband dies, the young mother left behind has to choose between two of the greatest loves: motherhood or the love for one man.

THE OASIS

This is a continuation of the Shultz family saga. Violet, feminist daughter of the new world falls in love with a wealthy Arab and goes through heaven and hell in order to survive cultural conflicts.

THE OASIS This is a continuation of the Shultz family saga. Violet, feminist daughter of the new world falls in love with a wealthy Arab and goes through heaven and hell in order to survive cultural conflicts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467040945

Ehud Siton

About the writer of THE LOVE OF THE BUTTERFLY A fairy tale could be written about the tribulations the author, Ehud Siton, had to go through to complete THE LOVE OF THE BUTTERFLY. The book is written with great emotional naivity. It reflects the writers' love of life and man and his intrinsic honesty of spirit. This book, together with a script, great music and a most powerful song, MEMORY LANE, took twenty years to complete, since Ehud worked as a builder most of his life, keeping his literary self hidden from the world. Today the dream has come true, the book is a success, and Ehud feels it in his heart that a movie based on it, will be made in the nearest future.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

FIRST MEETING

It was a beautiful morning in mid-June. Manhattan was bathed in the warm glow of a bright sun. After the hardships of a long winter, summer had come at last. Yet the sure sign that summer was here to stay was when the NYU Campus came back to life. That morning, true to the good old summer tradition, lots of young, restless people were already swarming all over the place; some sitting on the grass, others throwing baseballs or flying through on their skates. They were the very same crowd that made the place the most popular hangout for students and hippies. Young blacks dancing to the sounds of funky tunes on their radios had become as much a permanent fixture of the campus as the weed-dealers.

On the sidewalk near the NYU gate, a wild flower grew among the cobblestones. A beautiful butterfly came to rest on its petals. A student on a bike arrived at top speed and jumped off, dragging his foot on the ground to make it stop, and almost dropping his backpack in the process. The butterfly took fright and flew away.

In a nearby minimart, Victoria was sitting quietly at her cash register, gazing out the window. She was silently absorbing the sun’s rays and rejoicing at the coming of the long-awaited summer. The terrible winter had drained all energy from the soul of this child of light - for Victoria had grown up in sunny Puerto Rico. From the shop’s window she could see the NYU campus and the crowds of students going in and out of the gates in their colorful outfits, casual yet classy. There was the usual medley of jeans, brightly-colored shirts and sneakers, as well as formal suits and bobby socks worn by girls carrying business-like attaché-cases.

Victoria wasn’t aware of her stunning Hispanic beauty, nor did she realize the impact she made on the male sex, for her mind was on her struggle to survive. She had grown up with parents who loved each other deeply, and naturally she assumed that love would one day cross her path as well. Often, she could not stop her mind from dwelling on the tragedy that had befallen her two years before, when she lost both her parents in a fatal car crash. She had been living in a sort of limbo ever since, trying to adjust to her new life in a new country. She had moved from Puerto Rico to New York, where her Aunt Maria took her under her wing. Fortunately, her aunt had close friends, good-hearted people who cared about Victoria and helped Aunt Maria to ensure her happiness.

Victoria felt the warmth of the sunlight caressing her face and was overwhelmed by a sensation of intense well-being, as if everything had stopped and this instant was fixed in eternity. She abandoned herself to a calm reverie, her eyes closed and her thoughts drifted away to the land of romance on a distant sunny shore. As in the saying of a philosopher of old:

You’re standing at your window, waiting for love to pass by, while love is knocking at your door…

The shop was relatively quiet by now. During the early morning rush hour it was crowded with housewives, children, and students heading for early classes; then there was another rush hour in the late afternoon when classes ended and people who had just left work came to the minimart for some last-minute shopping on their way home.

A deep, mellow voice suddenly interrupted her reverie.

A pack of Marlboros, please.

Without even looking at the customer, she swiveled her chair around, plucked the pack of cigarettes from the back shelf and deposited it on the counter,

It will be sixty two cents, Sir.

Her eyes were still lowered when she saw a hundred dollar bill being slid onto the counter, and the large strong hand that held it – indeed, almost dwarfing the note – a hand that was unblemished and unscarred by life’s hardships. The hand intrigued her so that her gaze began travelling upwards until their eyes met.

Sorry, I can’t change that I’m afraid, she said in a shy voice. You’d better get change across the street.

Victoria now saw his face. He was a strongly-built young man in his twenties, apparently an NYU student – at least that’s what his T-shirt said – with brown hair and piercing blue eyes. A healthy young American, the dream boy on whose shoulder one could rest one’s head and go through life with. A brief look of frustration flickered across his face but was gone just as quickly, giving way to a resigned smile. He looked at his watch, then turned and headed for the door. Victoria’s eyes followed him, noticing the bulging muscles of his arm as he pulled the door open. Her eyes stayed riveted to him as he crossed the street at the red light. She was captivated by a deep and unfamiliar curiosity as she watched him get halfway across the street, fumble in his pocket, and, finding change there, make a sharp U-turn back to the shop. She continued to watch him, becoming slowly aware that a knot was forming in her stomach as he reentered the store. The sensation confused her. She did not know what to think or do. As he walked towards her, a warm smile spread across his face. Was it a dream? She shivered as he said,

Look, I’m a little late already. I‘ve only got fifty-nine cents change left in my pocket. If you’re willing to wait until I’ve finished my last class at six, I’ll give you the rest on my way back.

All Vicky could do was nod in agreement. She wanted to move but her body had become numb and would not obey her mind. As he grabbed the cigarettes she still held in her hand and as he made his way out, he spun around to tell her,

Don’t worry. I would never let three cents come between us.

The door closed, and for the rest of the day she found her thoughts drifting back to the morning, going over every detail again and again, consciously fighting the desire to look towards the campus.

Shortly after six, she saw a group of students coming along on the opposite sidewalk and instantly spotted him among them. It would have been difficult not to notice his tall, muscular frame. Suddenly he stopped and turned towards the shop. The store was humming like a hive with the comings and goings of customers. Vicky was busy attending to them. She made a tremendous effort to avoid looking at him as he entered the shop, and did not look up until he was near the counter. As he was going to offer her the three cents he owed, a lady who had just finished stashing her purchases into grocery bags turned to leave. Michael continued forward, colliding with her. The crash sent her bags tumbling, scattering the contents all over the floor. Michael blushed, offered a confused apology and bent to pick up the lady’s groceries and put them back in the bags. However, the lady was not content and started mumbling to herself:

The youth nowadays, no respect whatsoever, just knocking against decent people without looking where they’re going. No manners. Look at him, he must be on drugs, I’m sure.

Michael got the last few things off the floor and was getting up, but as luck would have it, his shoulder pack got caught on a shelf behind his back. It was definitely not his lucky day! At this point, the whole shelving unit plunged forward with a loud bang, sending the carefully stacked cookie bags in a poetic flight, ending up at the feet of surprised customers browsing on the other side of the shelf. Michael looked resignedly at the whole catastrophe, his face a picture of disbelief.

Victoria had watched all this as if in a slow-motion movie. This boy of her dreams, about whom she had spent the whole day fantasizing, had turned the store into a battlefield in less than a minute. She covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. At the same time, a booming voice with a heavy Italian accent was heard from the rear of the shop,

Mamma mia! Whatsa happen’ here?

Framed in the doorway was a short man with a fat belly that could have made any Sumo wrestler jealous. The man began crossing the store towards the site of the disaster at a fast pace, assessing the damage with a frown on his face. Victoria began moving round from behind the counter but the man stopped her with a wave of his hand, saying,

Victoria, stay there and look after the customers. He then turned to Michael, who was feverishly striving to put the shelves back together.

And you, young man, you have caused enough commotion, come and help me rearrange the shelves.

Both of them got to work on the display while another shop girl popped up behind a shelf from the direction of the storeroom. Michael could not help noticing the girl’s face. She was a beauty, yet the thing that struck him most was her lipstick which, albeit neatly applied, overlapped the contours of her lips by at least a quarter of an inch and greatly exaggerated the size of her mouth. Michael was reminded of a circus clown. The girl bent over and asked in a sweet, groovy voice:

Do you need any help, Papa Lorenzo?

With great difficulty, Michael restrained himself from laughing as Papa Lorenzo uttered in his thick Italian accent,

No, Charlene, go back and finish unpacking the boxes.

The girl then returned to the storeroom, walking proudly and swinging her hips as in some Fifties’ rock & roll movie. Michael smiled. It was difficult to say if she was for real, or had popped up out of a spoof commercial on the Saturday Night Live show…

It took both men a good half-hour to restore the display. Papa Lorenzo contemplated his masterpiece, and then vanished silently into the storeroom. Michael gave Victoria the three cents he owed and then found himself helping at the counter whilst chatting about the weather, the beautiful summer, and how nice it was to be in New York. Michael was in fact only waiting for the right moment to pluck up the courage to ask Vicky for a date. The shop gradually grew empty until at last he had the chance to say

Why don’t you come with me for an ice cream? It’s the least I can do to atone for my sins.

Victoria replied with a warm smile.

I’ll be finished in a few minutes, if you don’t mind waiting.

Michael was shyly shuffling from one foot to the other when Papa Lorenzo showed up, carrying a box of chocolate chip cookies.

Come on, Victoria, he said. It’s time to go. Why don’t you take some chocolate cookies home for yourself and Auntie Maria?

He then waved a cookie pack towards Michael. And here’s one for you, he said in mock seriousness, even though you don’t truly deserve it, you bad boy!

He patted Michael’s shoulder while handing two packs to Victoria who said,

This is Michael, Papa, to which Michael immediately added,

Schultz, Michael Schultz.

He held out his hand to Papa Lorenzo, who shook it while balancing the cookie box on his knees, an amused smile on his face.

Yes, yes, well… Go now and change. he motioned to Victoria.

With a shy smile, Michael apologized for his clumsy behavior and all the mess and commotion he had caused, and then added:

You know, I’m taking Vicky out for an ice cream.

Hum, said Papa Lorenzo, while busying himself with the shelves, already calling her Vicky… Hope you don’t get her into any trouble, young man.

Victoria had gone into the back of the store to change her clothes and brush her hair. She felt weird. It was indeed the first date she had ever had. She could not truly say why she had not been into dating until then – it had left her indifferent. And then she saw Michael this morning and became moonstruck. She had seen dozens of boys like him before, NYU students who came to the minimart or Washington Park, boys who tried their luck with her, yet none of them had touched her heart.

As she came back to the front of the shop, Michael whistled in admiration, saying,

Who’s a lucky man, then?

Victoria blushed. She bent over to give Papa Lorenzo a big kiss on the top of his head. He was still kneeling, placing packets of chocolate cookies on the shelves. He rose and gave Michael a leftover chocolate bar,

I hope you take good care of my Vicky. She’s like a daughter to me.

He then reminded Vicky not to forget to ring Aunt Maria and tell her she’d be late, so she wouldn’t worry. That was Papa Lorenzo in a nutshell. He always behaved like a father towards Vicky. He was indeed like family to her, the same as Auntie Maria. She knew he never meant to control her, but to lovingly protect her, in this city where dangers were lurking around every street corner.

Michael and Vicky left while Papa waved good-bye from the doorway, as if they were going on a trip overseas.

The sun had not gone down yet and the park was filled with people. Michael and Vicky walked towards Smithy’s Corner, not far from the square. Michael plucked a flower from one of the flower pots lining the sidewalk and offered it to Vicky.

Here you are, my little butterfly.

Vicky’s delight sparkled in her eyes. Michael could not refrain from asking about Charlene, and about her weird way of putting on lipstick. It had struck him much more than any of the weirdoes who haunted the Park. It made Vicky smile. Charlene was not really a bimbo. She was just Charlene and that was that. Once a friend had told her that her lips were her best feature and she should emphasize them when she put on make-up. She had apparently interpreted this in her own way.

The sidewalk was lined with parked cars, many of them convertibles. Right beside them, in front of the window of a café, some students were sitting astride their motorcycles and scooters, sipping soda or having an ice cream. The large café served sundae specials – huge ice creams topped with tons of whipped cream, candied cherries and little American flags. It was one of the favorite hangouts of NYU students because of its Fifties atmosphere.

In a corner of the café stood a true Wurlitzer jukebox which played authentic Rock ’n’ Roll music. Tables were scattered all over the floor, and at the end of the room was a counter with high stools. The place was overcrowded with students, most of them either casually dressed or hippie-looking. In front of the jukebox, a few couples frantically rocked to the sound of Little Richard’s Long Tall Sally. Vicky liked the place. It looked like a scene from a T.V. soap opera. Some waitresses in uniform were scurrying around, trying to keep up with the orders.

As Michael and Vicky made their way towards the counter, Michael was greeted with nods of welcome, his shoulder patted in friendship. Some said hello, and a few shook his hand in greeting. Vicky felt comforted; Michael seemed to attract goodwill. They finally reached the bar and sat on the high stools. Smithy himself stood behind the counter and warmly welcomed Michael. He liked him a lot. He was very happy to see him with a girl and immediately insisted on offering them an ice cream. Smithy was both curious and puzzled about the new girl. Vicky looked different from the others who frequented his café; she was definitely not of the same breed. As Smithy placed a glass of water on the counter for Vicky’s flower, Michael ordered two Sundae Specials. Just as they were about to engage in a tender conversation, Michael felt an arm slapping him on the back.

Where the hell have you been, pal? How are things?

It was Charlie, a hippie with long, curly blond hair, wearing an open shirt, stonewashed denims with worn patches on the knees, a light cowboy coat, red sneakers and a necklace of shiny, whitish dog-teeth around his neck. He looked pretty much like one of the flower children of the time. It amused Vicky, who greeted him with a large smile. Michael turned to Charlie,

Well, I’m doing fine, what about you?

Things are pretty heavy, man.

Michael mocked him, saying that he didn’t know how to relax and enjoy life. He then introduced Victoria, who told him he could call her Vicky.

Smithy propped two giant sundaes on the bar, the famous Smithy Ice Cream of chocolate and vanilla with a generous topping of fluffy white cream and a red sugared cherry on top. Vicky exclaimed, Wow! and within seconds, plunged her spoon into the mound of fluffy whipped cream. Michael and Charlie burst into laughter as a dollop of cream ended up on the tip of her nose. Michael then told Vicky a bit more about Charlie. He was his roommate and they were studying Law together at NYU. In fact, they did everything together, and were more like brothers. Charlie again asked Michael where he had been, so Michael told him about his adventures at the minimart and how he had turned the place into an apocalyptic battlefield. All the time Michael was talking to Charlie, he was looking at Vicky, while Charlie was happily gulping down every bit of his friend’s ice cream. Who said that love is blind?…

Love must be also deaf, because Charlie had been making some weird gulping noises in the process which Michael did not notice. Charlie asked him if he would come to the party on Friday at Rosa the Greek. Michael, in turn, asked Vicky if she would come with him. Vicky was confused. She did not expect things to go that fast but she promised to give him an answer the next day.

It was then that Michael suddenly realized with amazement the fate of his wonderful sundae special. In a gesture of mock anger, he grabbed Charlie by the collar of his coat.

Hey you, would you stop it right now. If you want an ice cream, buy your own!

Charlie pretended to see someone he knew at the other end of the café and, while Michael’s eyes were diverted, he escaped, mumbling a quick:

See you later, guys, ducking out of Michael’s grip.

Vicky watched Michael and it suddenly struck her that she was falling in love. She had not expected it to happen on this very day, not like this. Yet, she reasoned, no one knows when it’s going to come knocking at your door. They kept on talking and a very quiet feeling she could not explain slowly took over. She felt so good with him. And evidently it was the same for him. When Vicky next looked at the wall clock, it already said ten-thirty.

Michael, I didn’t know it was so late… I must go, my aunt’s sure to be very worried about me by now…

Michael looked at the clock and jumped to his feet and scanned the room for Charlie, whom he spotted near the jukebox. He waved for Charlie to come over, and the latter made his way to the table, stopping short and shouting, Yes Sir!

Charlie, I need the car to take Vicky home…

Without a word, Charlie took the car keys from his pocket and threw them at Michael, then returned to the jukebox. Vicky took her flower and they left the place after a last good bye to Smithy. Michael led Vicky to a Volkswagen, the usual little ladybug – yet, not so usual after all. This one was customized, painted bright orange with jacked-up suspension and special racing fittings. The wings had been enlarged and it was fitted with huge racing tires. On the flanks were two fire-spitting dragons. Michael opened the passenger door for Vicky and went to sit behind the steering wheel. As he switched on the ignition, the engine roared into life. Michael lit a cigarette and asked Vicky for directions.

She lived in Brooklyn, in the Puerto Rican area of Flatbush, not far from Avenue J. Michael drove the car with a safe hand. She could see he knew how to make his way through the traffic without driving wildly like other young men. They talked about everything and nothing. Vicky was already half asleep. She had had a hard day. Every morning, she woke up at six because of the long commute from Flatbush to Washington Square Station. Or perhaps it was the car… She always felt sleepy when she was in a car.

As they crossed Manhattan Bridge with its nighttime lighting, she was struck by the beauty of the scene. She had never before noticed how magical New York looked in the dark when all the buildings and bridges were lit. Or was it love which made her see things through rose-tinted glasses? She wondered if she wasn’t over-reacting. Love is such a beautiful thing; it makes one see the world in a different light. She was looking through the window at the old familiar places as the car was moving along Coney Island Avenue towards Flatbush. The route was lined with bars and pool joints. The walls were covered in graffiti and the garbage bins were overflowing. Drug pushers were lurking in doorways, almost invisible in the dark shadows. Red lights in some windows attracted those who, for a few dollars, could immerse themselves in the pleasures of the flesh and forget the misery of their lives for a short while. After a while they reached Avenue J. Michael could hardly recognize the place.

During the ride, Michael had explained to Vicky that he had grown up on this side of New York, but long before it had become a Puerto Rican area. This part of Flatbush was once inhabited by Jewish immigrants, like his parents, who had fled Eastern Europe because of the war. Today, even the shops had changed. Victoria was surprised to learn that his family had lived here and was now on Long Island. Most Puerto Ricans who lived in Flatbush would never make their way to Fifth Avenue – and certainly not to Long Island.

Michael told her his family’s history. Didn’t Auntie Maria always say that a good son makes a good husband? His father was a smalltime tailor when he arrived in Flatbush from Poland during WWII, and he worked very hard to make a living. After a time, he succeeded in building a clientele and making a profit, while also creating jobs for his friends and neighbors, until he had enough money to establish a small factory at the back of the house. The factory in its turn did well enough, and in time his parents moved to a larger building in the Fashion district. Now they had a chain of fashion stores, the biggest being on Fifth Avenue.

Victoria felt uneasy telling her own story because there was not much to be said. She was sixteen when her parents died in a car accident in Puerto Rico and her only family was her aunt, an older lady in a declining state of health who lived in America. She came to live with her. Both worked to survive. Vicky did not feel like elaborating on her life. She was a simple person and worked in a supermarket. Her aunt did cleaning jobs on a part-time basis. Neither had great expectations, nor did they have any true ambitions other than having a simple and happy life.

As they reached the area where Vicky lived, she guided Michael to her house. He looked at her and noticed that there were tears in her eyes while she was speaking about herself. He felt very sorry and told her he hadn’t meant to upset her. To ease the tension, he asked if she would meet him again the next day.

Perhaps we could go steady? he added.

Vicky smiled.

Oh, Michael, you’re making fun of me. What would you want with a poor orphan girl from an immigrant family?

Michael realized that he had a serious crush on Vicky. Despite his money and easygoing student life, he had never been a womanizer. He was dedicated to his studies and even if he had time to go out to movies or parties or cafés, he was not the type for a one-night stand.

Don’t be like that, Vicky. You know I like you very much. Please say you will.

Vicky surrendered.

I’ll tell you what. If you come to the store at six-thirty, we shall see. OK?

Michael had a look at the neighborhood. He was shocked. The area really had changed a lot since his childhood days. The streets looked abandoned; trash cans lay open, spilling garbage over the pavement and the paint on the buildings was fading. He felt sad. They finally reached Vicky’s building. Michael parked the car and stopped the engine. He lit a cigarette, asking Vicky if she was not scared when coming back alone at night.

Well, said Vicky, my aunt comes to wait for me at the subway station and we walk home together.

But her aunt was not feeling very well lately. She was coughing all the time.

On the second floor of the building, a curtain was pulled aside, as the light from the streetlamp fell on the car. A loud cough was heard from the window, then a voice:

Victoria, is that you?

Vicky rolled down the car window, leaned out and said loudly,

Yes, Auntie, I’m coming up right now.

She turned to him.

Michael, I must go.

He was touched.

OK, I’ll see you tomorrow after my classes. Good night, Victoria.

She vanished into the building while he started the engine. He was as confused as she was; everything had happened so fast. All he knew was that he had seen her, melted, and could not help but ask for a date. He put on some soft music and drove back to Manhattan as if in a dream… Although the meeting with Victoria had been sudden, he knew that the girl had done nothing to try to attract his attention. She was not the type of girl from a poor background looking for a rich boy; neither was it written on his forehead that Daddy was Mr. Big Bucks. He was not hoisting any conspicuous sign of wealth, no designer gear, no Rolex on his wrist that might beckon the more materialistic society women. No… it seemed to be just mutual love at first sight, after all.

CHAPTER TWO

LOVE & REALITY

Michael arrived back at Smithy’s Corner around midnight. The place was now nearly empty. Charlie was waiting for him. He was very much like Michael. In spite of his looks, and his background, Charlie was a serious student who worked his way through school and did not have much time to fool around. Michael had met him in class soon after the beginning of the school year, just as Charlie was looking for a roommate with whom he could share his loft. Neither of them drank or smoked much. For Michael, Charlie was the perfect partner and he felt much freer than when he was living at home with his parents. Besides, Long Island is not exactly next door, and it spared him long hours of daily commute on the train.

As they were driving back home, Charlie was curious to know how the date had gone. He teased Michael because it was so obvious that he had fallen in love with a girl he’d only met that day. Charlie had never seen him so happy.

This girl is something special, Michael told him. I’m telling you… I’ve never felt this way before… You know, I think I’m falling in love with her.

So that was it, the boy was under a spell. Charlie knew that it was already too late to save him, but he was quite amused. Being much cooler with girls, he did not plan to make any kind of commitment, at least not until he’d graduated.

I can’t blame you, man. She’s a very sweet girl and I can see that you’re already very serious about her. Man, you’re lucky, that’s for sure!

Charlie wondered if he really meant what he had just said. He believed in love but, for him, love was just a crush. Today a crush on this one, tomorrow, who knows? Besides, to him, life and family had not been such a fairy tale. There was no mansion on Long Island, no Rolls Royce or Limo to chauffer him around. He had had a no-nonsense childhood, which had led him to believe that marriage was not such a rosy story, rather more like a string of headaches and worries. Hence, Charlie was not enthused by romance.

They reached home only to hit their beds. It was late, they were wiped out and, moreover, they had an early class the next day. But once in his bed, Michael could not sleep. Vicky’s image haunted him as he kept tossing and turning. It made him feel both good and embarrassed at the same time. Up till then, his path had been pre-ordained. Life had been kind to him. His parents expected both he and his brother to be achievers, and so he and Adam had enrolled in the Faculty of Law. Their plans were simple. They would become attorneys, and then at least one of them would work in the family business while the other would be hired by any of their father’s powerful friends. At this point they would get married to girls of similar background, probably more or less chosen by their parents. Neither Michael nor his parents had ever considered that love might come into the picture and disrupt their plans.

It was now dawning on Michael that he had not only fallen in love unexpectedly, but with a girl who did not exactly belong to his world. It was as though his life was some kind of slideshow with his parents ruling the order in which the slides popped onto the screen, and he had just inserted his own without asking their permission. And while Michael did not truly care, carried away as he was by the intensity of his feelings and the natural enthusiasm that makes youth so exciting and unpredictable, he still felt bemused by the whole thing. Drowsily, his thoughts gradually slipped into dreams as he finally fell asleep.

Morning broke above the city and the birds sang as they welcomed the rising sun. Michael was already in the shower, enjoying the tingling sensation of water running over his body and teasing his senses. He had expected to feel exhausted after having slept for only four hours or so but, on the contrary, he was full of newfound energy. He would have run across the entire state of New York, crossed a desert or climbed a mountain, in order to see Vicky. While he was happily showering, he was amused at remembering all these stories of chivalry he had read as a child. It always made him smile to think of the brave knights who turned the world upside-down for the sake of their Beloved, galloping around like thunder on their chargers and killing every despicable villain who dared to cross their path. Well, now motorbikes had replaced horses, thanks to Harley-Davidson, and all the chivalrous romances were gradually giving way to one night-stands…

Michael jerked out of his reverie as he looked at his watch on the shower railing.

Oh my God, we’re going to be late!

He rushed out of the shower, banged loudly on Charlie’s door and went to grab his clothes. Alas, even an earthquake would not have woken Charlie today, so Michael had to resort to more drastic measures. He pulled Charlie’s door open and headed for the bed. Only a mop of blond hair emerged from the sheets. Michael shook Charlie until the sleeping bear finally opened one eye,

Charlie, come on, we’re gonna be late! We’ve got the White Witch this morning in case you’ve forgotten! Hurry up, you lazy ass! I’m going downstairs; I’ll wait for you in the car …

Michael left the loft they were sharing on Greenwich Street, down in Tribeca. It had a typical loading dock and a short flight of stairs that led from the sidewalk to the landing in front of the entrance. Michael sat in the car and started the engine, whose huge roar could be heard for miles around. He waited, wondering how long it would take dear Charlie to groom himself into a beauty for the White Witch. He revved the engine once more as a sign for Charlie to hurry. In the next five minutes, Michael witnessed a show unmatched even by Charlie Chaplin – as if clowning around was a uniting characteristic of Charlie’s all over the world.

This was Charlie making his way out of the building.

While struggling to push one arm into his coat’s left sleeve, with the other he was desperately trying to fix his trousers that were halfway up his legs. He wore only one shoe, the second one hanging between his teeth. He almost tumbled down the steps, but, after a masterful dive, managed to grab the car door and steady himself just in time. Falling into the car, Charlie immediately turned on the radio only to hear the speaker announcing the eight o’ clock news.

"For Chris sake,