Day 29 - Only Laugh - Chapter 29 (1122 words)

 (a little later than expected, but still done today before sleep comes to roll me to tomorrow) 

©Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

ONLY LAUGH WHEN IT HURTS

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 29

The view from Tony's rooftop garden was no longer that private. Photographers had camped out various roofs and hilltops with long lens cameras, web-based streaming and other pervasive devices designed to record and replay any tidbit of information likely to add to the story. Everyone wanted to know how he did it, how he convinced everyone that he had been struck by lightning and yet convincing no one that it was true.

His ex-manager and agent was on the interview circuit, bringing out footage, years ahead of his time showing how he thought all along that the amnesia was not real, that it was all part of an elaborate act to spring the next act in Tony's performance, his life as a comedy installation of self harm, humour and surprise. Simultaneously calling a liar, and artist and a genius he reignited the interest, the desire for more of his former client and of course the demand for new material. He never believed for a second he said, that Tony did not know what he was doing. It was indicative of his level of commitment and professionalism that allowed him to focus on a goal, years ahead of time, sacrificing the life that so many, many people would never ever consider. To deny himself the empire he had built, to deny who he was and walk away from that fame, fortune and influence in order to deliver the next killer blow in his act.

The bus 'incident' for example, and once again the footage and the coverage rolled on and on to remind everyone of what they already knew, was completely unplanned by anyone but Tony himself, no one knew that he was going to the club that night. No one knew he planned to go as far as he did, did he plan to walk into traffic, was it just luck or good planning that had bus drive up just then or had he meticulously planned it out. It was all posed as a question, but to the minds of the people who wanted to see a bigger picture than the mundane reality of a man painted into a corner, a more meaningful mindset was in order.

He was on every talk-show, and he told everyone what he “knew” and what he did not “know” but could “guess”. He was very careful with those words, the stress, he stressed unmistakeably. Now years later and the world was fascinated and entertained once again by a man so gifted and so practised and skilled at his craft that you did not see it coming, which elevated it and him to an art form. Everyone wanted to know how it was done, everyone believed that the lie was not a lie, and the lie was what they chose to believe or not to accept.

So if this had been an act, then the Amnesia was an act, and the lightning was a fake, a ploy or a trick. The best kind of magicians trick where you cannot even begin to guess at how it was done, but it did not stop anyone from trying to pull that curtain down. That meant that the lack of speech was also an act, one convincing enough to fool doctors into swallowing the act.

Releasing the medical records did little to quell the questions and fueled more suspicious theories. The symptoms and condition he 'suffered' were possible but not probable based on his injuries. OR perhaps they were statistically unlikely, which made the coincidence ever less credible. No one believed that he did not know who he had been any more, and he was fair game again. As much as the villagers wanted to close ranks behind and around him there was little protection afforded against the unstoppable force of need to know. It was like trying to hold back the seas.

Now there was no place to run, no place to hide. He could not talk, he could barely communicate with anyone who was not in his intimate inner circle, and that was a small, small group of people. Aida and her children, a few select village people who were trusted as anyone could be in the desperation of necessity and his accountant and business manager.

Between these people he used notes and cards to convey his needs, but as his frustration grew and the pressure to come out of his “act” intensified, the harder it became to make his needs clear in even the simplest written form. He needed time and space to think, away from the noise and heat of the publicity crucible he had dipped into once more. He felt enormous amounts of guilt towards Aida, though she calmly accepted her fate as his new barrier, and they hired bodyguards for the the children, now being schooled privately, tutored away from any shouted queries or demands of attention.

Oriana was having nightmares, the blame lay squarely with her in her eyes. She had heard the stories about how staged the lightning was, but she knew better. This happened because she did not hold on, did not control her own things and that lead to a man's body being battered, his private person violated and ultimately death of his voice. It was a lot for such a young girl to take on to herself, and no note Tony ever wrote could persuade her otherwise.

Vito on the other hand was in his element, though Aida wanted to spare him the scrutiny and the heartache of media opinion he was enjoying popularity and attention beyond any teenagers wildest dreams. The band, his merry trio of bar performers had been offered recording contracts competing for his attention and jockeying for position on the inside track to his step father.

Of course he was not his step father, but facts and reality are not the main requirements for reporting, having something to report is. He had offers of sex, fame and money and he entertained them all, but committed to none of them. It was a magic carpet ride of all the good things he could get while they lasted, but ultimately gravity or science would reassert itself and the world would be righted.

Between now and then it was a prime opportunity to explore endless possibility as an option. With an eye for the future and a sound plan to save the money, the power and the accessibility of everything offered Vittorio was ready for it all, ready for the future.

Tony was making money again, no in the sense that he had been before, but in the way that he had the first time round, it just poured in, obscene and shocking in its speed and depth.