Américo Prakak and the Shadows

By Cliff Maksushimat

The narrative of this book begins where the main characters are about to confront each other. The book outlines the cat and mouse game that pervaded their life long friendship. This novel is a meditation on suffering, friendship and mental anguish. Some of the themes in this novel encompass family dynamics, mental illness, the evolution and struggles of friendship, the impact of poverty, the consequences of harassment, the deprivation of sexual exploration and lack of self-love. This book will be of most interest to readers from younger to older adults. This novel is filled with psychological suspense, lyrical descriptions and achingly emotional events. The reader will be captivated from the beginning throughout the book, because of unexpected twists and turns, and thrilling incidents. This story although fiction, is informed by some true events. The reader will be left guessing who was Américo Prakak.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781667806747

Book preview

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Madness is not the disturbance of lucidity but the cure for solitude

~ Cliff Maksushimat

AMÉRICO PRAKAK AND THE SHADOWS

©2021 Cliff Maksushimat

All rights reserved

Print ISBN: 978-1-66780-6-730

eBook ISBN: 978-1-66780-6-747

Printed in the United States of America

Front cover Artwork:

My poisonous heart and its attachments by CLIFF MAKSUSHIMAT

Oil on canvas

Copyright © 2019 Los Angeles, USA

Contents

PREFACE

PREAMBLE

I. OVERWHELMING SUSPENSION

II. LONELY OLLIUGNETA

III. MEPHISTOPHELIAN MEMORIES

IV. HORNS OF THE MOON

V. KNEEL DOWN

VI. AMÉRICO PRAKAK 

VII. MOMENTS OF ANXIETY

VIII. MAN OF RIFF-RAFF I WILL HEAR YOU GRIEVING

IX. THE CRYPTIC VAN

X. HUNG ON THE EDGE OF THE SILL

XI. CIRCUMSTANTIAL FACTS

XII. OCRE SENSATION

XIII. YOUR SOPHISMS AND GUILE JUSTIFICATIONS

XIV. ABSENT, DELAYED, AND DESPERATE

XV. ENEMY MATRIX OF BLACKMAIL

XVI. TRICE OF QUIETUDE

XVII. CHILDREN’S SUFFERING IN SEPTEMBER

XVIII. HIS SHADOW: THE MOTIVE OF MY FEARS

XIX. THE FACE OF ENVY

XX. THE UNEXPECTED VISIT

XXI. SANITY AND MADNESS

XXII. ELLIPSIS

Dedicated to:

Who looked to the moon, who gazed at the stars, who wanted a story, who knew how to love. Your perseverance brought hope during these disquieting times of darkness. In the end imperfect love prevails and is best.

Your Cliff

PREFACE

On that afternoon as I walked to the boarding gate of flight AF69 from Los Angeles to Paris, I remembered I had forgotten a book to read. Upon arriving at my seat on the upper level, I grabbed a notebook and decided to write a book. The first thing I did was to complete this preface. Over the following days of my trip, I traced out a timeline of memories of my beloved childhood growing up in a little town in Mexico, and I outlined a draft of this story. Indeed, I will share that parts of the story are based on some true events. 

This novel is founded on, and partly a meditation of, friendship. I believe friends leave a stamp on our lives, whether of happiness or agony. At an early age we start having friends, either real or imaginary. As we grow up, some of us manage to leave the unreal concoctions of the mind in the past, while others keep them for the rest of their lives to overcome or deal with solitude.

In this novel readers will encounter a narrative brimming with sketches of love, hope, success, sexual exploration, happiness, and courage. Additionally, there is some nuance and contrast in the story. Therefore, the reader will contend with poverty, envy, anger, despair, harassment, sadness, anguish, humiliation, anxiety, loneliness, delirium, and madness. 

In closing, I will add that, in this 82,028 word story, the past is linked to the present, and childhood decisions will influence, if not determine, the future. 

Remember to keep a handkerchief next to the bookmark because there will be times when tears roll down your cheeks.

Cliff Maksushimat 

Paris, France

July 20, 2019

PREAMBLE

Sometimes, we manage to confuse reality with fiction, and not for pleasure but for survival. It is simply more satisfying to exist in a world of nonsense, of unreal magnificence, than to live in life itself. Undoubtedly, it is preferable to replace a repulsive experience with a dazzling one, leaving reason aside to welcome the imaginary and the fictitious. We all have the capacity to do so as long as we know that the frenzy of delirium will be our shelter. It is preferable to live in an illusion than in a sad and insufferable reality, captive. 

One day Américo Prakak and his friend embarked on a fantastic and intense odyssey, where they would transcend reality. Although they experienced joys, happiness and good fortune, reason and betrayal ended up separating them. That day their friendship was irrevocably broken. Emptiness became all-consuming and left a trail of sadness and loneliness. On that fateful day, Américo Prakak, feeling betrayed, wrote this sonnet of contempt: 

‘Caresses of Serpents’

Please tear off my weak entrails with sharp steel

Break my ties with acids and suffixes

Kill me with the dance of the prefixes

But don’t talk of the love that you don’t feel. 

Caresses of serpents was my true meal 

Fed by you and sided with affixes

You stabbed me with rusty crucifixes 

When I saw your petty pride die surreal. 

You burnt my last life hope without pity 

Painted my being in painful loneliness

Tried to murder my joys and dignity

When I witnessed your downfall meaningless

You reached for me, but I left so gritty 

 On my egress, you died in bitterness.

I.

OVERWHELMING SUSPENSION

Nauseating! 

It was without explanation the sensation I was beginning to suffer. I wondered if it was due to what I had ingested in the morning or because of the anxiety I felt. I didn’t know the answer to my question, but the only certainty was that… there he was… Américo Prakak! Without perenniality, regardless of the time, date, or location, he was there like the cypress. Américo only observed the earthly space in which he stepped. That piece of concrete he firmly occupied turned out to be his ally and enemy at the same time. I could see Américo thought stealthily as if each of his neurons in sync sent a unanimous message between them. Coursing their way through the nodes of Ranvier, their function streamlined, a tormenting message was sent faster than usual. His brain was configured in such a way that in burst dictation, it ordered him not to look back nor to stop. Prakak continued to look around, unable to understand the synaptic disturbance he was experiencing. Time returned, and the sculpted wrinkles in the inner area of his eye and eyelid vanished without explanation. Was what I saw reality, or was my imagination at work? Fallacy! What fallacy? His hair gave way to the few platinum strands about to reclaim their original color. The ravages the years had brought and cemented, with the light of the sun’s rays, his hair had managed to regain its natural brown color. The eumelaline had started an endless game, and the enigma revealed his profile as he had forgotten his disguise. All the pieces began to take their places, to be positioned and participate in the expected show about to come. 

I kept watching him. Américo moved calmly while embracing harmony. Suspended from the lamp and floating in the ether, he calmly breathed. The pathophysiology of olfaction had taken a break, which the unscathed sense of smell was taking advantage of to sniff out the scent of plumerias he carried with him, of which those at some time came to bother and irritate his breathing. It was strange to observe the hypersensitivity, apparently, it realized it would fail in obstructing his sense of smell. The deviated septum that had brought him so much pain in the past would not stop him either. Absolutely nothing could hinder the enjoyment of the aroma plumerias gave off. Slowly, he looked at his shoes. It was at that moment he realized they were both pushing against the ground simultaneously. It was like a warning the feet gave, something that came through the membranes to prepare them because they needed to run without stopping. Perhaps they needed to awaken for the necessary warm-up before taking on the great distance. Something like that, as if they were preparing for the great run of their lives. I wondered how long they would run and if they were ready for it. Did they sense that they should keep running until the menisci in the knees gave up? Américo had never run a track and field sports event, but who would want to run a marathon in those conditions? Only a man on the verge of alienation would do so in dress shoes. But the strangest thing was that Américo was not on the avenue, nor in the park, much less was he hiking in any canyon in the city of Los Angeles where he could exercise, but he was there, in the train station. And me behind him watching in the stillness. 

As the seconds passed, Prakak continued looking at his timepiece, an old Bulova watch that over the years had lost the hour marks but which did not affect making out the time. In the distance, the air blew as if a message was carried through the clouds. As if the swirling wind wanted to dance with the detritus and then throw them contemptuously into the garbage can. Meanwhile, I, leaning on the pillar, watched everything. He looked at this motionless man, who appeared anxious and restless simultaneously, a man who expected an arrival or enjoyed the departure. There I kept myself at a distance without losing sight of anything. I didn’t want to be discovered, yet. It wasn’t my time to go out. Although I was tired of waiting, so many hours, so many days, so many months, and even years to witness this moment, I stayed there. I was sure that not even my exhaustion could hinder the breath of his goodbye. 

In the minutes that followed, Américo Prakak walked a few steps forward, and standing in front of the platform, he only watched in the distance, but still, he could not see anything. Suddenly, an erratic noise sounded and stole my calm. It had been something unsettling for me, and I ended up hugging a disturbance. Despite the shock my nerves received, I managed to silence my scream and bury it deep in my fears. I was still afraid, so in silent pauses, I turned to see what had happened. What a fright! With passerby walking, a cylindrical object had fallen. A simple garbage container blown over by the wind had astounded me. Calm returned. Américo, undeterred, looked at his watch again, reflecting a gesture of concern. After a few seconds, he reached back into his pocket and began to walk forward, expecting to see something in the misty distance. 

Shortly after, a machine was heard approaching. Indeed, from afar, you could see the great locomotive coming. A big smile began to appear on Américo’s face like oil drying on a recently painted canvas. With this, the internal anxieties, as he expected the arrival, began. Even so, in Américo, there was still a sprout of despair and unease. The mitochondria in his cells started supplying the energy, and his body couldn’t wait any longer. Clearly, his face expressed exorbitant glee, though also full of mixed emotions. I went crazy seeing so many rapid emotions in a human transpiring in seconds. All was cruel to my tranquility and my balance. It seemed that the train brought with it the greatest happiness ever known to the world or just selfishly to him. Or for me too, because perhaps with his leaving, my joy came. The seconds passing seemed like five years of waiting. With each fleeting moment, uneasiness with its cloak covered the grayish trail painted in the sky. A few moments after arriving, Américo adjusted his clothes, making sure he was presentable and gallant for the desired and expected encounter with the escape car. 

The carriage doors opened and he stepped aside. At the time, I thought he made way for travelers who had to leave, which was logical because he was always known for his kindness and chivalry, qualities we both shared. 

In the ensuing seconds, an announcement came that travelers had four minutes to get to the platform and to take a seat in the corresponding cars so that the train could leave on time without delay. Absent much haste, the arriving passengers milled about because the two hundred and forty seconds were sufficient to get off the train with the desired calm. 

He was still there, standing in front of one of the wagons, stiff and arrogant as if he was sure someone would alight. When the train was empty and with no walking body getting off that was the moment I began to worry again. He did not move. With the same big smile on his face, he remained motionless. So I wondered what was going on. I began to sense that Américo was not waiting for someone to arrive, but he was waiting for the train to depart and to take his corresponding seat and, perhaps, leave our city. As I had thought before entering the station, the most logical thing was for him to transfer or to go and collect his belongings at a previously selected location. Luggage or not, I didn’t care. My only wish was to go away and be left alone. Américo was still there, holding those beautiful flowers and a brown paper bag. Then, time stood still, whispering a witticism in his ear, and he began to smile. I witnessed a face rapt with great happiness and joy; perhaps it was all that he felt when he finally left this place. It would be the same joy I would feel when he was finally eradicated from my environment. Next, the announcement giving passengers a two-minute alert to board came. The train was about to leave on route. 

I thought of going to say goodbye to him and to give him my pardon because I did not want to keep in my heart any resentfulness. Such pique would fester in my reason and soul for not having granted him my forgiveness. Therefore, I silently left the pillar behind which I had taken refuge. But just as I was about to get closer, I noticed something strange about his behavior. Américo had started to walk toward the back of the train. It was bizarre because he moved away from the central passenger cars. I was wrong again; I had understood nothing. All my assumptions turned out to be erroneous. Now he was in front of the driver’s car. I began to have another bout of dizziness, which suspended my reconnoiter for the moment. After recovering and further observing his behavior, I no longer knew what to think.

As the last hypothesis, I thought Américo might be waiting to meet the train conductor. Although I didn’t understand for what purpose, I decided to keep watching to find out. Américo raised his hand in greeting, and the driver kindly responded. However, the unusual thing was to see that the driver may not have had an inkling and continued with his job activities. There were approximately sixty seconds remaining until the train left. Suddenly, Américo approached the booth, and after putting the paper bag and flowers on the floor, he tried to open the driver’s car door. This action puzzled the driver, who with a stern look, replied that the tourist carriages were in the back. However, Américo did not care and again tried to open the door. The driver yelled at him to stop and go back to where he was. He threatened to call security via the paging system but gave up when he saw Américo abandon his attempts. Realizing that he had failed to open the driver’s door, Américo gathered up the flowers and the paper bag and walked away from the control booth. Seeing that Américo had abandoned the idea of opening the door, the driver took his position and, after sitting down, began to prepare everything for an on-time departure. 

More and more, Américo kept confusing me. He started walking along the platform, then stopped within meters away from the train, right there where I could see the automatic coupling of the cars. He took the position of a secret agent, aiming to launch himself the moment the train started its march. 

Américo had a countenance in which great anger and extreme courage could be detonated. He began to rage and throw tantrum signals typical of a foreign high school student when he received a grade well below expectations or when the work was not completed on time. I had never seen that reaction previously, and everything became more confusing with the passing of the seconds. For a moment, I felt like Américo was letting me down by throwing those kinds of tantrums. I was the one to do them, but he had to refrain since it did not correspond to his personality as a respectable man of the world. Immediately, the train doors were heard to almost close. It was the moment when the last passengers ran into the car to take a seat to ride the train to its destination. The train began its march slowly.

Suddenly something inexplicable happened. Only after advancing a few meters, an announcement from the conductor advised that the train would stop and return to its starting position. Apparently, there would be a delay in departure. The announcement by the spokesperson was that technicians had detected an object obstructing the railroad crossing, and due to its proportion, the train could not continue on its course. The driver added that they had noticed in time since the size could have damaged the locomotive and led to a tragic accident. Despite this setback, the trip was not canceled. Travelers were asked to disembark and wait in the room until further notice. It was simply a technical problem that could be fixed in less than thirty minutes, which was the time calculated to remove the object and ensure the rails were in perfect condition to resume the journey. 

Without waiting any longer, I decided to get out of my hiding place. This was my golden opportunity to face that fully smiling man. A little nervous, but less weak than my own courage, I approached him. I asked him what he was doing, where he was going, the reason for his attitude towards the driver and his mocking laugh. As usual, he ignored me and ignored my questions. In fact, he began to scoff at my vain attempts. I stood in front of him, and with a raised tone, I questioned him again and asked him to answer all my questions. But again he ignored me and avoided every question I posed. He continued to deride my fearlessness. It was more than clear we had no ties, and those childhood friends were now just a couple of strange shadows reflected on the train station floor where nothing moved. So without waiting any longer, I thought it best to retire, but not before telling him that I wished him a good trip and absolved him of all the damage he had ever done to me. I had become tired of waiting; I preferred to go home and leave Américo forgotten in the past. Before leaving, I emphasized that, even if there was no friendship now, I wished him nothing negative in his future. Without hypocrisy, I wished him the happiness he had always sought and that he had tried to snatch from each of us. Right after I was done, and as I turned to leave, he took me by the forearm and asked me something that left me stone cold.

Do you think the item obstructing the train tracks is just a coincidence? He said smiling. And he continued: I couldn’t leave, and I needed to make time because I knew you would come! In fact, I expected you to come out of your burrow, but I guessed right and I knew you wouldn’t dare. That’s why I decided to give you more time. Even after all these years, you are still so meager and mediocre. You will never stop being a shadow. It satisfies you to be so? Truth or lie? 

His shadow. That was when I felt cold and fear invaded every cell of my body. But I wasn’t supposed to show him, so ignoring the feeling, I decided to focus on what I had mentioned earlier about the object on the tracks. 

My mind did not want to think about the reason he was waiting for me. I began to wonder for how long Américo was aware I had followed him again. Or perhaps it was, on the contrary, that I had been the one persecuted all this time, repeating the same story, the one that occurred after the van incident. So it was, as a series of questions etched inside my head without answers. So I voiced:

I can’t believe it, Américo! Once again, you return to your tyrannies! What is your purpose for stopping the train? You should go and leave us all alone immediately. Be happy, and let us be, too. 

Please. Now you come to tell me to let you be happy when you have done the impossible to annoy me? Haven’t you gotten tired of making my life unhappy lately? Only a fool like you could think that a man as shrewd as I am would not realize that wherever I went, you were always chasing me and he smiled again, as he always did.

Meeeee? Américo, don’t get things confused. Yes! I admit I tried once with the van but quickly realized it was a mistake and abandoned all plans after that. Instead, you’ve done the impossible to screw me up. You have lied to me and have made fun of me. You’ve made everyone think I’m insane, including my family. You’re driving me to the brink of insanity with your harassment, and I can’t take it anymore. I said resentfully. 

Suddenly, he grabbed me tightly and led me to the edge of the platform, so I could see the train tracks. He told me to look very closely, to observe them, because that was how his veins of life and breathing were, but that I had destroyed them by the time I appeared that night at the Palacio de Hierro store. He accused me of having broken his right atrium, preventing the ventricle from receiving the desolate blood with hugs full of love, without giving him the opportunity to protect himself, and then letting the oxygen escape like an oppressive despot. I made sure that day my blood would restore its beloved left ventricle, bestowing the power to breathe the fragrance of selfishness and unreason.

For this purpose, he had placed an obstacle in that manner so that I, lost in madness, could only remove it by renouncing reason. I did not understand the similarity of these ways to life and how I could help him in his liberation. Although his rant scared me, I let him continue.

Do you know how I suffered after everything that happened? My life changed when you cut my moment for justice, and my thirst for revenge turned on you he looked at me with his eyes full of anger. 

In fact, I did not know how to answer, since many events had happened in the past, and it was impossible for me to remember to which of them he referred. However, I thought I had an idea when he mentioned that I had cut off that moment. Trying to avoid the distaste, I tried to go off on a tangent. 

Américo, so much has happened that it is difficult for me to remember which specific event you are referring to. I don’t know if you’re alluding to the accident during the trip to the waterfall, the misunderstandings in high school, or the scandal at your work. Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about! 

Don’t start again, and you keep playing dumb as always. Do you remember our personal talks which later didn’t turn out to be so personal? Maybe that will refresh your memory a bit. Ahhhh! But I already remember that you forget everything. I hope you followed my advice in the last letter I sent you. 

I did not know what to answer. I thought about trying to ignore his question, again. But I decided that maybe it was better to face the situation in a funny way and to be clueless when I resumed discussing the trip to the waterfall. 

Oh yeah! You mean the talks after the waterfall excursion. That day I wore the wrong clothes. But I don’t understand what it has to do with anything. I don’t understand why a talk about something we did when we were children is important, and for which I apologized.

Please! Don’t be stupid! He yelled at me. 

His tone of voice was beginning to worry me. 

Of course, I’m not referring to the talk about your clothes and your misery! Nor of that putrid life you had! I’m going to remind you with a couple of words: September festivities. 

Suddenly, a wave of cold and heat rose through my body. I felt as if I had submerged