Dimiter by William Peter Blatty

Author:William Peter Blatty
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Albania, Intelligence officers, Fiction, United States, Suspense, Thrillers, Americans
ISBN: 9780765325129
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2010-03-16T05:04:32+00:00

Except for the colorful window drapery, Meral’s Casa Nova room could have been a monk’s: a clothes tree, a desk and chair, a single bed without headboard, and a tall stained pinewood wardrobe, on top of it a statue of the young boy Jesus handing a single red rose to his mother. When Meral had first moved into the room, he had requested that the statue be removed. But then a few weeks later he had it brought back. No explanation was given at either time. Meral looked at it now as he sat on the side of his bed, exhausted, then turned his head to look at the dark bronze crucifix hanging on the wall just above the room’s door. Was that the highest aspiration of man? To suffer? Why? To what end? The answer of a priest at his table months before had been a mere two words: “soul formation.” It had given Meral light for a time but little warmth. Was there no other way? He looked down at the terra-cotta tiles of the floor and then lifted his stare to the array of framed photos that were propped on a desk set against the wall. His parents. His beloved wife. And then his gaze settled onto the son he had loved with an intensity that surprised him, that at times he had even feared, although never knowing why until that day when the uncaring sky had birthed death and he at last understood that the thing he had feared was the essence of hell: the pain of loss. Standing with his legs wide apart on green grass, dark ringlets of curly hair banding his brow like a Grecian Ephebe of Marathon raised up from the floor of the sea and given breath, Meral’s son stared out from the photo with the love of angels shining from his face as he proffered a long-stemmed red rose to the camera.

Meral stared. He would cry now yet he couldn’t. The Wall.

He saved all his tears for his dreams.

Meral lowered his face into his hands. Why had he come home so early that day? Why not five minutes earlier? Five minutes later? Two? One? The litany of guilt and recrimination had been faithfully repeated every day now for years. Meral looked up and turned his head, staring pensively at something on his bedside table. He reached over and picked it up. It was a book about Einstein, God, and quantum physics. Though never the grail of complete assurance, Meral did find help in such books. But it wasn’t this one’s content that had his interest. It was something else. He stared at the cover for a moment and then opened the book to the page where on the night before last, before getting into bed, he had placed a narrow Casa Nova paper bookmark—it had a photo of the hostel on one of its sides and a spiritual quotation on the other—into the book to mark his place. When about

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