Regarding Amelia

By Sebastian Valentino

Regarding Amelia touches upon the integral elements crucial in establishing and reinforcing a relationship based upon the most concrete aspects of truth, sincerity, love and hope. We question how one can lose oneself when unceasing, tumultuous happenings take control of how everyday, ordinary things are done.

Regarding Amelia explores how a young boy's search for God helps save him from losing himself after losing the closest person to him, his mother, affirming his hope and instilling in him the possibility and existence of a sense of rebirth of his beloved Amelia.

Regarding Amelia is an introspective novel of family and culture. No event is too inconsequential as each has their place in shaping both the reader and the protagonist. Matters of faith and grief are delicately handled, allowing room for the audience to interject their own experience with that of Alejandro’s.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781387696499

Book preview

Regarding Amelia

Regarding Amelia

By Sebastian Valentino

For You.

My Beloved Amelia

Foreword

Regarding Amelia touches upon the integral elements crucial in establishing and reinforcing a relationship based upon the most concrete aspects of truth, sincerity, love and hope. We question how one can lose oneself when unceasing, tumultuous happenings take control of how everyday, ordinary things are done. What happens when we can no longer find a purpose to live and challenge ourselves to find our inner truth and peace, to convalesce after what transpired throughout the years?

Regarding Amelia explores how a young boy's search for God helps save him from losing himself after losing the closest person to him, his mother, affirming his hope and instilling in him the possibility and existence of a sense of rebirth of his beloved Amelia. Losing someone dear to us leaves us not knowing how to regain our place in the timeline of life.

Our footing on the ground we walk on is lost and we no longer have a sense of the world existing around and through us every second. We become lifeless vehicles wandering about; Until we find that one thing. That gleam of hope that brings us back from what we once were and lights the way to what we can be. Our own Amelia.

- Kristina Kelly Zaidner

It was a cold winter day as I rushed through downtown D.C. searching for a New York license plate. I tried to keep up with my boyfriend, but my heels made the task difficult.

He’s a guy who prioritizes time. he mumbled as we barely avoided a collision with another tourist. I combed my hair with my numb fingers trying to regain some control of my appearance. I knew appearance was important to his dad.

We found the car and I quickly made my way in, grateful for the warm air. In the driver’s seat sat a tall, dark man with a European style and a thick Brooklyn accent. My first impression was that he had a unique sense of style reminiscent of my time in Mexico City. My next impression was that he loved to tell stories.

We discussed opinions on philosophy, art, beauty, and culture in a local Starbucks. Although our opinions differed, they were all clearly influenced by our respective experiences in a Latino household.

I’m writing a book and I’d love for you to read it someday. He informed me between sips of his cafecito. At the time I didn’t think much of it. I’m a painter, not a writer, so his interest in my opinion was surprising. Two years later he fulfilled his promise when I received an email with a link to a novel.

Regarding Amelia is a beautifully written, introspective novel of family and culture. No event is too inconsequential as each has their place in shaping both the reader and the protagonist. Matters of faith and grief are delicately handled, allowing room for the audience to interject their own experience with that of Alejandro’s. Ultimately, it’s a story of how one individual can forever alter generations of people.

As mentioned earlier, I am a painter not a writer. Darks are necessary to emphasize the light and even the smallest paint stroke can completely transform a painting. Through age, the concepts of right and wrong evolve until we realize there are no extremes, but just a spectrum of gray. Such concepts are presented through the life of Alejandro and his struggle with upholding his faith despite the many darks he experiences. Just like the rugged and colorful Dominican streets, life is beautiful not because it’s simple. It’s beautiful because it’s complex. The juxtapositions of color with neutrals; highlights and shadows; smooth and rough create an atmosphere where we appreciate each moment only because of its faults. Alejandro and the narrator are not perfect people, just like we will never achieve perfection. They are human, and that humanity is what makes Alejandro’s story so unique.

I urge you, dear reader, to treat this book as you would a delicate painting. Live in each sentence, absorb each word, and consider the beauty its unique story has to offer.

- Samantha Varela

Acknowledgements

It is with the deepest gratitude that I would love to thank every person that has supported me though this gigantic step in putting my story and feelings in writing. I would like to acknowledge and express my gratitude to the following people for their unwavering support and magnificent contributions to the coming to life of this novel.

First and foremost, My Amelia: It is only because of people like you that my world exists, and for that I am eternally grateful. Thank you for giving me the strength to continue on the beautiful journey of life.

My wonderful son, Josh. From reading my very first draft at the start of it all, to the last word in my final revision, you always urged me to just publish it!. You were just as important in the completion of this project as I was. Thank you so much. I love you.

For her generosity and selfless attitude in helping me complete this project, I humbly pay tribute to Kristina Zaidner. Even when you knew I didn’t want to hear it, you gave me your most constructive criticism for the project’s greatest success. Without you, my story would not have come to light. Thanks for your love and dedication to my project.

To Lina Sarello, who inspired me with her first revision of the novel. You were an incredible and amazing friend, and for that I thank you. To Samantha Whitehead, my later editor and critical eye. Although you’re reserved and shy in person, your writing speaks volumes! Thanks so much for investing in my story and just being awesome!

Writing this novel has been a long journey. To have had the opportunity to express my deepest and most intimate feelings in my life has been an incredible experience. I’d like to thank everyone that supported me throughout this wonderful journey.

Copyright

Copyright © 2014 by Sebastian Valentino

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First Printing: 2018

ISBN: 978-1-387-69649-9

www.regardingamelia.com

Chapter 1

The Stranger...

Why am I telling you this story? Well, to put it simply, I’m a storyteller, an opportunist, a con artist. I live for stories, for other people's stories. I recount the lives of people less fortunate than me and often time make a pretty hefty profit. I’m the kind of person that makes a fire without any firewood. I can sell just about anything; matches in Hell or ice in Alaska. I make a five-foot-tall man seem like the tallest man in the room. I can make you fall in love with the villains of my stories. What can I say, eh? I'm not a bleeding heart, never have been.

I did feel bad for him, though… this guy who was voluntarily telling me about the most miserable and intimate moments of his life. Me, I am a numbers man, with my eyes always on the prize. As he talked up a storm, his stories got better and better, and the only thought I could bare to fester was exactly how much money I was going make out of his story.

I remember that night like it was yesterday. I met Alejandro at an empty, old dive bar that smelled like it hadn’t been mopped since the ‘60s and had about two inches of stickiness glued over the bar top. The walls were covered in old school movie posters and wall decals of classic Yankee’s baseball players like Joe Dimagio and Babe Ruth. Over some relatively watered-down Jim Beam, and not even remotely buzzed, I realized that this guy seemed to have one hell of a story that I could actually capitalize on. Before me was someone who looked so full of life yet was so lost.

Although seemingly in his prime, Alejandro’s hair was prematurely white; I came to realize later on in the evening that it was definitely stress induced. For the most part though, the guy was young and vibrant. He was wearing a very nicely tailored designer suit, maybe Italian; it seemed custom made. Right behind his onyx cufflinks, his initials were engraved. He looked like a big shot. The bottom line was that I needed something as exciting as his story that could make a name for me in this town again. You know, get me back on top!

After overhearing his superficial bar conversations in his subtle Brooklyn accent, I realized his words seemed to flow easily and flawlessly. It was almost fun to watch him spill lie after lie to anyone who came up to speak with him. What a pathetic loser. All he’s looking for is an ear I thought.

So there I was, and there it was! An in-depth, revealing, hopefully profitable and successful evening at a bar… Alejandro’s favorite bar, I later learned. He was definitely dynamic, and very, very entertaining, to say the least.

There's this quote I love. I can’t remember where it came from and can’t really find it in me to care at the moment, but I feel like it’s relevant. It says...

Clowns wear a face intentionally painted over theirs, so that they can appear happy or sad. You define what your mask looks like today.

Alejandro was a clown wearing the heaviest of masks. I learned that this man, whose life was so royally messed up, spends his life constantly repainting his smile in a most tenacious attempt to hide his tears. I too wear a mask, but mine says I am fine with life and anyone who asks me about it, knows what kind of answer they’ll get. It made me like him right away. I like anyone who seems even more wretched than me and trust me it is not easy to come by someone that fits that bill.

After lounging at the bar for hours that night, Alejandro found himself alone. He appeared to be a bit soberer by then. I guess I was interesting to him in some way because the next thing he did was pull up a bar stool by mine. We just sat there in silence for a bit, then the bartender poured him another drink. Thanks, Pauly. He cleared his throat. You got it, Dino. Pauly responded.

He picked up the short glass and swished the oily bourbon around inside. Everything about him was almost moving in slow motion. He meditated for a minute, looking into the glass as though his fortune was projected on each ounce. He turned to me, shrugged and asked Jack, is it?. I nodded warily. Salute brother he continued. I raised my glass and I guess that was all the confirmation he needed. From that moment on, he shared just about everything about his life and why he chose this bar, this night… the night he felt would be his last.

He reminisced about his childhood, his mother, and God, and we eventually stumbled upon the typical meaning of life conversation. I paid keen attention to everything he was saying, making sure I got every single miserable detail that came out of him. He talked about what made him the happiest yet saddest man on Earth. His whole body reacted with every word he said, as though his emotions were physicalizing through his being. Listening to him spill his bloody soul drink after drink, I knew I would write about his life one day; I knew I was destined to tell his story.

Without warning, the jukebox began to play a quiet, somber song which greatly juxtaposed the mood at the bar that night. Alejandro began to cry, paying absolutely no mind to what surrounded him. It was almost 3:30AM by then. It was a sorrowful and intense, yet melancholic cry full of desolation and regret. I tell you, it's a good thing the only other cat in the room was more shit-faced than the both of us.

At that very moment, something changed within me. As I sat there, drenched in confusion and dismay, I started to really listen to him. For a second, I could actually, deeply feel this strangers pain.

Now, I’m not telling you this so that you will feel for