To Love Again
Bernard Madoff, bosom heaving, anxiously awaits his love’s next book
“I spend most of my time in my room, reading … and this is my secret—Danielle Steel.” –Bernard Madoff.
Going Home, he was led and barred into what he called The Cottage, which some call, simply, The House (and still more call, sarcastically, Bungalow 2). His heaving chest concealed a Silent Honor, for Going Home, truly, was no longer an option. The Season of Passion he had embraced amidst the climax of his glamorous life as a Rogue had come to an end as Secrets were exposed; Daddy was embarrassed before his previously Loving Family Ties, a humiliation that was as far-reaching as even would be a Message from Nam. To secure a Second Chance was Impossible—the Ransom that was the assets of many Americans had been taken for a giant Leap of Faith, while the Irresistible Forces behind the Ponzi scheme were Bittersweet, scoring many their Jewels and other Fine Things, but sending most on The Long Road Home—an arduous Journey, a dubious Legacy. Johnny Angel he was not; Full Circle he had come.
“Honor Thyself,” he repeats to himself even still, One Day at a Time, the Lone Eagle now Vanished from the outside world, with only his own Malice as familiar solace. And yet, amidst all these Changes, his Heartbeat throbs as the warden brings his Special Delivery, his Answered Prayers, what is for him No Greater Love and Passion’s Promise. He sits in these Golden Moments, Matters of the Heart satisfied by The Kiss of this Miracle, the Big Girl, A Good Woman: Danielle Steel.
Bernie’s Escape [NY Post]