disavowed paragon

We felt at home at Nana’s. Every time we pulled up to her two-story tudor brick house, the memories flooded back. 

After a warm round of hellos, Nana singled me out. She wanted to show me something.

Nana ushered me to the guest room upstairs. The room was meticulously clean, white sheets were tightly wound over the dual twin beds; probably last used when we were nine, and Jason was still around.

She led me to the corner of the room, eager to show off a makeshift shrine she’d created for Aritou. Seven sand polished pebbles surrounded a shard of granite covered in fresh moss. It was known as the Trust Stone.

“Aritou brings us the truth.” She smiled as she clasped her hand over mine, and set both atop the Trust Stone.

“Do you believe in Aritou?” Nana asked.

I paused. Searching for words that would honor Nana, yet share the actual truth. Six years ago, Irish authorities put away a drug-laden vagabond posing as this paragon, Aritou; who through endless charisma and loose global connections, swindled his way into the hearts and pockets of millions.

“N-nana,” I stumbled, “Aritou made us feel special. He shared ideas that can make us better people…”

Nana nodded, her eyes lit up.

“... but Aritou is not who you think. He’s done some very bad things, and now spends his days in prison.”

Nana heard me. I know she did. But she wasn’t really listening. Her clasp only strengthened. 

She closed in, whispering, with an uncompromised gleam in her eye. She reinforced, “Do you believe in Aritou?”

-m

September 13, 2020