If I Went Back to New York

By Lorenzo di Gaio

New York, one summer night, several teenagers rape a young girl, she had drunk too much, her name was Pamela. She dreamed of a great love, she will get the sordid. If almost all the protagonists have known the damp straw of the dungeons, one has fled. He took a backpack, filled it with some clothes, and stuck his thumb out.

he goes elsewhere. Somewhere exists without a doubt. He does not know which, surely, a port, where the sailors carry to oblivion. Boats offer a path to another universe, with no hope of return.

His name is James. On his way, remorse gnaws at him, as cancer nibbles away at flesh. Pamela committed suicide.

James goes from city to city, he travels, he meets more or less interesting people. In twenty years he covered the distance from New York to Cloverdale. Everyone knows this city, the Smaville series takes place there. James stops there almost by chance. Stopped in a motel, he crosses paths with a Baby-Doll, her name is Gladys. Blonde hair, she must have wandered off here, looking for the American dream.

Hollywood is a dream factory, or a nightmare. She could be Marylin Monroe or Greta Garbo, James Dean would show her the way to Eden.

He decides to pan for gold when he gets up one morning,

he will become a gold prospector along a small stream which tries, without convincing, to turn into a torrent. He pitches a tent near a ruin, a few stones, a little greenery, he is convinced that he is in the Garden of Eden. With his back bent, he tries to find gold, he wants to become rich.

He stands up with difficulty while massaging his kidneys. He cursed himself for having had this idea. He feels that Satan has played a dirty trick on him.

One morning, Pamela appears, she walks on the water, he believes in an apparition, a ghost, a ghost. She returns from the world beyond, since she is dead. She hanged herself. No one turns back to the realm of the dead. The nature that surrounds it may be haunted. A dead woman on his trail is a bad remake of a Hitchcock film. He loved the film, he watched it years ago. Maybe during his escape, but that doesn't matter.

He must be tired. He is going to buy a bottle of whiskey, this drink relieves many ailments. Suddenly, Pamela escapes from his ideas like a fly that he chases away with his swatter. In the sun, only these insects live.

Another day, he jumps with both feet inside the ruins, he heard a chime, around him, life is absence, there can be no music, unless it is ghostly. Spanish monks are surprised by his presence, he retraces his steps. Here he is again beyond ruin, doubtless his reason is failing.

In the evening, a man appears, James considers him strange. They smoke a rolled cigarette, James returns to the past that he would like to forget. Like a migraine, it revives him.

A few days later, a Cheyenne joins him, he tells him Indian legends. Maheo, the Spider built the universe

Pamela, the Cheyenne, Gladys, the old, the Spanish monks, everything jostles in him. With Gladys, a Spanish monk, and a Cheyenne, he will go in search of his origins, convincing himself that he can change the past. . Pamela must be reborn and leave the world of her torments. The Last of the Mohicans winks at him. Over there in Quebec, live other Indian tribes. Indian legends are necessary to interpret the supernatural events that occur. But why do they attract James to Quebec? He doesn't understand Pamela's connection to this town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lorenzo di Gaio
• Release date: Dec 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223003304

Book preview

Chapter 1

Twenty years ago, somewhere in New York, an eighteen-year-old blonde, blonde girl with hazel eyes, got up, stretched and opened her blinds. The city has already woken up.

Her name is Pamela Hutchon, calling herself a romantic rebel, she refers to James Dean.

She falls for Latino boys. Tanned skin, black hair and brown eyes make her capsize.

On this cool February morning, Pedro Raminez, an eighteen-year-old man of Mexican origin, who lives in Queens, waits for the bus, he sees her walking on the sidewalk opposite, he calls her. He invites her to warm up with a chocolate at Crown Down, a bar a few meters away.

After enjoying a hot drink, they go out, he accompanies her, he takes her hand, they kiss. But, she is forced to leave, so she abandons him on the sidewalk. He, tearful, watches her go, she, smiling, sends him a blown kiss.

Pamela lives with her parents in Brooklyn, a home located in the Canarsie neighborhood, members of the middle class crowd there, a smile on their faces. His father and mother work in banking. The family without exhibitionist wealth lacks nothing and enjoys access to all the leisure that the megalopolis offers.

However, by preferring to leave this place, she shackles in Queens or the Bronx. At a party in Queens, she met Pedro.

The father of the latter works in garbage collection and his mother is a housekeeper serving wealthy individuals. The family is pious, before each meal, the father reads the Bible. The mother and Pedro listen in silence, they meditate. Pedro capsizes between mysticism and American society, he believes in a god that reason cannot explain, man cannot understand him by using only his intelligence and knowledge. He dreams of freeing himself from knowledge in order to merge with God. 

He tries in vain to convince Pamela of her conception. She reminds him that his parents are Protestant and that the Catholic Church does not appeal to him.

She's at home. Sitting on her bed, he tries to persuade her. He is certain of the validity of his belief, it should not meet with opposition.

I'm also passionate about how to control the will of others, practices like hypnosis, telepathy fascinates me, he admits.

— Everyone must preserve his free will and the autonomy of his movements, these techniques frighten me.

— He remains free, because, in theory, no one can compel them to carry out what their conscience refuses.

She touches her sex, she opens her braguette, she brings her mouth close to her erect penis. He clings to his sheets, asking God for forgiveness of this sin.

My name is James Corney. I'm coming soon to celebrate my twenties, I grew up in Queens, in the Jackson Heights neighborhood. It is a place where ethnic mixing blends with the varied architecture and hues of the walls.

My father and mother have always lived in New York, one day their ancestors landed in this city, they stayed there.

Whatever our origin, the color of our skin or our religion, we all come from elsewhere, but today we are here, we belong to the same nation, my father often repeats.

My parents earn just enough to live without frills. Inside an apartment on the second floor of an old building.

Since my childhood, we have had breakfast together. My father and mother prefer black coffee, tight, me, a bowl of milk and cereal. The television on generates an incessant background noise, if it stops, I would wonder if the world has stopped its march.

The head of the family works as a waiter in a bar located a few meters from our home. Every morning, at seven forty-five minutes, he hurries to leave and open the Queen's bar. He pulls the iron curtains, turns on the coffee machines. Conrad arrives first and asks for a little black after saying Hi, Mark. So is my father, and my mother Elizabeth. Conrad was proud of his Irish origins, they were noticed by the red of his hair. Then Gerald appears. A man of color, sporty, he starts his day with a glass of milk. Luis pushes the door, a Hispanic, he likes to drink a strong coffee before going to work.

Every day, the same customers crowd at the counter, going to school, then to college, and even today, I stop there.

He left his post at sixteen. A new team is taking over.

My mother works in a hotel in Manhattan, vacuuming and taking care of the rooms. She tells us about life through her corridors. Some employees accept sex acts for two or three tickets, some customers treat them with disdain.

One of his colleagues, Maria, entered a room. A man, fat and fat, comes out naked from the bathroom while proudly showing off his penis. He rushed at her. Her hands grabbed her, caressed her, and lifted her skirt.

"Dirty whore! Get on all fours and you win fifty dollars, he groaned.

After a brutal sodomy, he threw a note in her face.

Maria told her employer about her misadventure, and he fired her. At the police station, an officer registered his complaint while yawning.

My mother calls this establishment hotel as if it were a gate to hell.

My friends are called Adan, Zane and Roy, we live in the same building, we grew up together sharing our joys and sorrows.

At twelve, by the ocean, sitting on a beach, we drank a liter of whisky that Roy had stolen, we slumped on the sand like wrecks that the waves throw. We staggered back in the middle of the night. My father had screamed, and tomorrow he confessed to me that he had committed the same stupidity at the same age.

Pamela dropped Pedro, his mysticism had frightened him. It has sunk into total disarray. He remains mad about her, she forgot him as if she had thrown away a tissue. She is getting ready to go to the party. She is happy, singing, she thinks of a boy named Diego Vallès, he should be there. She would love for him to notice her. Blue flower, she admits to being romantic. She would enjoy living a great love, this kind of existence represents in her eyes nirvana.

Ronald texts me to let me know he's having a party at his house. My buddy with lots of girls who are only looking to be shot in the image of a slut, I answer him by SMS, OK, man, I'm going to ensure like a God. Ronald's father is a lawyer, and his mother is president of a feminist association that fights harassment and sexism.

About fifty young people have gathered in this bourgeois apartment. I, Adan, Zane and Roy classify women into four categories: cannons,, crates and big piles.

Look at that one, James, the fat is overflowing everywhere, you don't want to do him any favors by putting a dick in his ass, laughs Adan.

Otherwise, she's going to die pucelle, cries Zane.

Did you notice that it stinks of money here? Roy asked.

No one answers, I observe Pamela drinking more than reason would like.

We drink beers, we dance, as morning approaches, defeated by alcohol, we are all sitting or lying down.

I see Pamela, alone slumped on a sofa, drunkenness has sawed her legs, she can no longer stand, I lure her into a room, I undress her, and I rape her. The act does not last long. I leave her lying on the bed, buttocks in the air, I find a can of beer, I empty it in one go. I go back to see this girl, two other young people play with her body. After returning to my penates, I go to bed.

Pamela staggered home with tears streaming down her cheeks. Inside her room, she writes a letter, her tears mingle with ink, then with the help of a belt, she hangs herself from the ceiling light.

The next day, Roy in an anguished voice telephoned me to warn me of his suicide, she left a letter explaining the reason, almost all the young people raped him in turn. The police went to the owner of the apartment, absent, his son Ronald welcomed them. He has known us for years, so he had to communicate our identities. At twenty, I don't want to go to jail or explain myself to a police officer about it. I am ashamed. I've discovered a part of me that I don't admit. I prepare a backpack, I leave a note to my parents, where I inform them of my departure from New York without explaining the reason. I have no illusions, they will learn it, but I will not watch their eyes judge me. 

On the sidewalk, with a few dollars in my pocket, I head south, I want to go to Philadelphia.

Hitchhiking, I leave New York, an old car stops, a blonde woman in her forties drives it. Her name is Abby Bigail. She tells me that she is going to Trenton, she inquires where I am going. At the utterance of the word adventure, she smiled. She asks me if I am in a hurry, I tell her that life passes by taking her time.

In a nonchalant tone, she offers me a job in her business in exchange for a salary and housing, I tell her that I prefer a hand-to-hand payment. She agrees. We stop in front of an old house on the ground floor, a hardware store. Her husband created it, but since his death, it has remained abandoned. She comes back from vacation, she walked for five years. She needs a person to put the shop in order.

She takes out her luggage, I help her carry it, she opens the leaf of the house. It is a place where dust has accumulated, she explains to me that a studio exists on the eastern side. My first task will be to clean his home and business.

My apartment consists of a bedroom and a kitchenette, a bed and some furniture, once brushed and washed, it turns out to be pleasant. The first night is painful, sleep is slow to come. I see Pamela's ordeal again. I perceive her hanged. She struggles, then her legs imitate the pendulum of a clock, they follow the rhythm of an infernal ticking.

I phone my mother with a new mobile. She yells that the police are looking for me. I cut off communication. With a punch, I smash the laptop.

The days go by, my nights remain restless, as soon as I close my eyelids, Pamela appears. Remorse gnaws at me, I regret this moment of bewilderment that led to this suicide.

After fifteen days of work, the house and the business have a more pleasant approach. I have no news from New York, I prefer to forget. I read Newday from time to time, but no one distributes it in Trenton. I walk through it inside a bar where, sometimes, I drink coffee, a consumer probably distracts forgetfulness. The press does not mention this suicide.

Abby begins to dress in miniskirts, my first desires begin, but my situation does not turn out to be comfortable. One evening, after the store closed, she asked to come and have a drink in her apartment. She serves me two fingers of whiskeys, as for her, she prefers a gin. She unclips my braguette and asks me not to move, she caresses my sex, then she offers me a mouth pleasure. In an icy tone, she demands that I lie on the floor, she sits on my lower belly in such a way that my penis penetrates her. At the moment of enjoyment, her face is transformed to look like a she-wolf, then she orders me in a dry tone to leave. Our relations are established within this perverse atmosphere.

After six months, I take my bag, I run away like a thief by leaving him a farewell letter. My next stop is called Millville. I found a job in a small motel where I will provide night guarding. I know nothing of my fate. Pamela joins me as soon as my eyelids close.

Chapter 2

In this month of June 2018, I wake up yawning. With a lively gesture, I reject the book Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway. I joined Morpheus by reading it, rather by rereading it, I know the story by heart. I would have liked to be a hero, but I am just an ordinary man. This qualifier corresponds to my life, which is not exceptional. Like a sales representative, I slept inside a motel just outside Cloverdale, California.

For many years, I have been traveling in search of the improbable like the sick who are waiting for a cure that would be alone due to chance.

After putting on jeans and a T-shirt, I leave my room, I go to the bar, the owner offers a breakfast service.

A blonde dressed in an orange skirt and shirt takes care of the morning clientele. She looks like the starlets of Hollywood. I'm sure this Baby-Doll would love to see herself play the role of her life on a big screen.

"You look bored here, doll! I slipped.

Do you want to eat something with your juice?

His face grims a sulky pout. As she speaks, she chews gum.

"I'm going to get gold, you can accompany me if you wish.

She doesn't answer. I drink my little black with a caramelized taste. The coffee beans had to soak in sugar. I ask her for another one and stare at her in the back of my eyes.

"Start filling a bag with nuggets, I'll join you!

A flash of malice passes through his sloes.

Do you live in this village?

"Yes, it's not bad around here.

The discussion continues in banality about life in Cloverdale, I am convinced that every night she scolds herself to death. Everyone knows this city thanks to Smallville. However, this city forms only a desert. As soon as night falls, everyone goes around or watches television while drinking a beer. She recognizes that one hundred and thirty-five kilometers away, everyone is able to find San Francisco, yet this megalopolis represents a galaxy far away. If a person wants to distract himself, he goes to Santa Rosa, which is a few kilometers away, this city lives and moves at night. She asks me where I want to look for gold, I tell her that I would like to sift the water of Bearpen Creek. I'm going to pitch a tent on the outskirts. She tells me that it is an area in the forest and that the terrain is steep. 

She reveals to me that one of her ancestors left the Chicago area to make his fortune by looking for gold. Desperate not to find any, he started a family by settling in this city. His parents worked in the vineyard. Later, she will probably open a business.

I stand up. By taking the gait of a feline, I join her behind the counter. She orders me to return to my seat. I stick my index finger on her mouth, then grab her by her hips and pull her towards me, kiss her.

I'll be waiting for you at 3 p.m. inside my room, you better bring your loaves, otherwise I'll rape you on the counter, I whispered in his ear.

I go back to my stool behind the bar.

"For now, pour me a coffee, and hurry up! 

With a look of astonishment, she looks at me bringing me my drink. I swallow it in one go and leave. The only thing I'm sure of is that tonight I'm going to get some gold.

Outside, before arriving at the parking lot and the road, the rocky ground bothers me, with a furious kick, I hit a stone, which squirts about ten meters. I join my black 4X4. This vehicle, a real budget food, is practical during my travels, I lock my life in. Instead of taking it, I walk towards the city center, wondering if this city has one. I walk along streets surrounded by houses all built on the same model. The resulting monotony infuriates me. Then, I walk along a boulevard that bears the name of this city, at number 543, I discover a supermarket located on the ground floor of a yellow building. I buy some food for lunch. I return to the motel without hurry.

In my room, I take a shower, I read a little Hemingway's book. I bite fruit at noon, then I devour the cold cuts and bread. At the bathroom faucet, I rinse my mouth by spitting the ebb inside the sink, then quench my thirst.

At fifteen o'clock, she knocks on the door, she arrives wearing denim shorts and a shirt. I let her in, then I lock the flap, I put my hand on her buttocks.

You're not wasting time, she laughs.

"yourself, hurry up!

"My name is Gladys!

I push her on the bed, I take off her spell and her panties, I pull down my pants, I sink into her.

As a result of the act, becoming a man again after the beast escaped, we talk. She asks me what I'm looking for, I admit I don't know. She tells me that she is eighteen, I suddenly feel older. I offer to join him to join me to my future camp. She agrees to come and see me. I want to know her not only for her buttocks, I can not apprehend what I want. A few minutes later, I admit that she has a nice ass.

In the evening, I leave for my treasure that awaits me.

Inside my vehicle, I have stored a tent, it will allow me to camp. I have already slept in the back seat, but this solution is not possible in the long term.

Following a road that winds through a rugged landscape where the forest dominates, I realize that the locals have fenced the land. After several unsuccessful attempts, I manage to sink into the heart of the leafy mass. Giant pines with red bark mix with redwoods whose tops are lost in the middle of the skies. Ferns and shrubs that cover the ground make access difficult. I want to get as close as possible to Bearpen Creek. I park on an abandoned path. I continue on foot on a rough terrain, arrived at its shore, I contemplate a big nervous stream that winds between