I am a freelance writer, living in Grayslake Illinois. I am the child of a non-digital age. I am the author of several books, screenplays and many short stories.
Visit me at http://mikegolvach.com
Mandi Wexler grew up in a dysfunctional household, suffering unspeakable abuse. As she grew older, she lost more and more pieces of her soul until at last she matured into a hollow, haunted shell of a human being. Now she is an abused automaton who bends to the will of vicious and evil men, shutting out the good in the world and resigning herself to a life of misery, giving up all hope of becoming the vibrant young woman she could have been.
Michael Skyler grew up in a military family, becoming used to never setting down roots, never alone yet always lonely, but never lacking for love and care. When he meets Mandi, he finds himself deeply drawn to her, even though he is hard pressed to explain why. Mandi tries her best to drive Michael away, not wanting him to see the scars on her body and soul. But the more Michael pursues her, the more she finds herself falling for him.
Yet winning Mandi’s love is not going to be easy for Michael, even if he can help free her from her self-imposed enslavement, for deep within Mandi lurks personal demons more menacing than any man ever could be. Will Michael be driven away by Mandi’s dark secret, or will his love finally help Mandi replace the missing pieces of her heart?
Missing Pieces is the latest novel from author Michael Golvach. Although it is a love story at its core, it deals with the subject of abuse on many levels and may be disturbing for some readers.
“Beguilingly intelligent with a powerful moral dimension, Missing Pieces is the latest release from Michael Golvach. A slick and facile novel he is completely at ease with his narrative, never striving for effect but careful to be sure we get the message. There’s a humane sensibility always bubbling beneath the surface that’s simultaneously sympathetic and fiercely judgmental and one quickly gets the sense that there’s something needful and anguished going on, sometimes veering towards disturbing as we come to know more about Mandi’s abuse. Emotionally charged, Golvach’s characters are strong and believable as further aspects of their back stories are revealed and it’s to his credit that he achieves an equitable balance between show and tell. On this level it’s a chilling reminder of an unfortunate truth that no one comes away from severe childhood trauma unscathed and Mandi’s internal angst is handled with as much complexity as Golvach’s underlying theme. A powerful and thought provoking read that will linger well beyond the last page, Missing Pieces is one of those novels you will want to talk about. Certainly deserving of a place on yourbookshelf it is strongly recommended.” (BookViral)
“You’re really a very sweet man,” she replied. “And you remember me?” He didn’t answer and she didn’t look quite sure. “I don’t think you could have, but you’re so very kind, aren’t you? You’d rather tell a lie than hurt a stranger’s feelings. I don’t understand it, but it’s a beautiful quality.”
“Just, if you take anything away from this encounter…” He began moving in to frame her face with his hands. Keeping them at a safe distance. “Just remember that there’s someone out there who thinks you are something special. No matter what you say to him.”
She laughed meekly. A smile crept over her face and he could see unfeigned joy in her exposed eye. “I remember when you paid me a similar compliment yesterday. You didn’t mean to say it out loud, or for me to have heard it, and you were embarrassed when you realised I had. So, I do believe that you mean it when you say… That’s very sweet of you, and I would truly…”
The wind blew a little stronger, wafting pretentious blue sand out of its rectangular prison, and lifting her babushka up slightly.
In that briefest of moments, he saw the place where her right eye should have been. But there was nothing there except what looked like a white patch surrounded by slightly bruised flesh. His face betrayed what he’d seen. A micro-expression of fright, invisible to most people’s attention, but not to hers. She’d seen it too many times before.
“But, maybe not,” she pouted, pulling the babushka tight. “You don’t have to feel bad. I know you saw it. You don’t have to pretend like you didn’t.”
“But…” he began, not knowing what to say next. What prepares you for something as unusual as that? “I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly,” she answered. “You’re a sweet young man. You really are.” She reached up with her left hand and pulled his face down toward her, kissing him quickly on the cheek. “You’re very kind. You may go now. You don’t have to explain. It’s all right, really.”
“But, I’m not…” He was stuttering again. Beginning to follow after her. “I didn’t mean anything. It just took me by surprise.” She looked back at him as she continued on her way. A tear had started running from her left eye. “It didn’t change anything. I still want to get to know you.”
“And then what?” she asked, stopping suddenly, but not returning, as he continued to slowly approach. “We’ll be the best of friends? We’ll lounge about and watch movies on cable television together?” She shook her head. “Look. Listen. I’ve been around me a lot longer than you have, so trust me when I tell you I know how this works out. And then believe me when I tell you that I’m really not mad at you, and I don’t think any less of you.”
“I’m not normal.” Her scream was hushed, but it carried the same power. The same force as if she’d yelled it from a mountain top.