The Memory Painter: A Novel (8 page)

It was quite a heavy load for a child to carry—when Bryan awoke his mind was filled with every memory Tabari had ever had, transmuting an innocent boy’s thoughts into the deep and hard-earned wisdom of an eighty-five-year-old scholar. Tabari was only the first of many visions as his mind stretched its seams beyond any normal pattern.

Bryan gave a twisted smile. “I stayed home ‘sick’ for two weeks. It took me six months to realize I was fluent in another language. My life changed, to say the least.”

“What about your parents?” she asked with a frown.

“They didn’t know how to handle the problem.” Bryan added, “It didn’t help that my mother is a psychiatrist. She took it as a personal offense that
her son
had issues—major issues—and dragged me to countless doctors. No one understood what was happening. When I was sixteen I finally convinced everyone that the visions had stopped.”

“So … what are we talking here, reincarnation?” Linz had moved to the edge of the sand garden.

“I don’t know,” he said softly, taking her hand. “What do you think?” He led her into the garden, so that she stood with him.

Linz looked down their joined fingers. “I think you’re doing this to me.”

Bryan leaned toward her. “You’re doing it to me too.”

When the kiss happened, it felt inevitable. Every nerve ending in Bryan’s body fired. He pulled her against him and they sank into the sand, his body covering hers. She surprised him by wrapping her legs around him and pulling him toward her.

Bryan nuzzled her neck as his hands explored her body, remembering all of the times they had been together in the past. Now those memories were devouring the present, threatening to take him over the edge. Linz guided his head back up and kissed him deeply, their passion meeting—until Bryan’s head jerked back in pain.

Startled, she opened her eyes and pulled away to see his face. “What is it?”

With their bodies pressed together, he couldn’t think, much less talk. “I just … my head … I get migraines sometimes.”

“Can I get you some aspirin?” she asked, kissing his neck.

Bryan shuddered, about to lose control. He could not suffer a recall in front of her. “I need to go. I’m sorry.” He slid off her and hurried to the door.

Linz sat up. “Are you sure you don’t need—” But it was too late. He was gone.

Linz looked at herself, half undressed and covered in sand. Embarrassment crept in as she fixed her shirt. She had never been so wild and abandoned with anyone before.

Feeling a little dazed, she moved to sit at her dining table. The
Mona Lisa
puzzle stared back, mocking her. Only twelve hours had passed since she and Bryan had finished it. He seemed to have a habit of running out on her.

“What are you smiling at?” Linz grumbled and scrunched the puzzle back up into thousands of pieces. She looked at the mess and felt no satisfaction. Today had been the strangest day of her life.

ELEVEN

FEBRUARY 10, 1982

Michael was growing weary of defending himself. “Nothing has been compromised. If anything, we’re closer now than we ever thought possible.”

“Closer to what?” Conrad’s voice rose as he waved his arms in frustration. “Losing our grant? Let’s just tell the NIA that you can recite the Hexapla in ancient Greek after popping our pill and see how that flies.”

Michael looked around, relieved that everyone else was too far away to hear their conversation. He and Conrad, along with Finn and Diana, were sequestered in a booth in a back corner and not many customers were around. In fact, the sprawling Old New England–style restaurant looked deserted.

They had come at an off-hour. Four elderly couples sat together near the front, eating Doc’s famous clam chowder. Michael knew they were regulars who stopped by every Friday at four before a senior dance class nearby. A few tourists straggled in, taking shelter from the nipping wind outside, and sat down to enjoy Irish coffees at the bar.

Finn drummed two of his fingers on the table, something he did whenever he was deep in thought. He looked more like a cross between a surfer and a cowboy than a scientist, and at Harvard he had broken almost every girl’s heart with his green eyes, long blond hair, and playful charisma. He finished his beer, gave a monstrous burp, and waited for the others’ groans to subside before announcing, “I think we all should try it.”

“What a great suggestion, Dixie. Sterling scientific process we’ve got going.” Conrad raised his beer in mock solidarity.

Finn slammed down his glass. “I am tired of your holier-than-thou bullshit, Doodle Dick.”

“And maybe I’m not ready to throw away my career for a bunch of hallucinations. The sixties are over, people, get a grip.”

“Guys, please.” Diana touched Finn’s arm. “Finn, I actually agree with you. I say we all try it and see what happens.”

Finn gave Diana a silent nod of agreement, which did not surprise Michael. They had been close friends for years. Both from small rural towns—Diana from Wyoming and Finn from Texas—they had felt an immediate affinity since the day they arrived at Harvard. Both shared a daredevil streak, and within a week of meeting they had talked each other into going hang gliding in the Berkshires. Michael had known they would both be more than willing to jump into the abyss with him.

He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Diana pounced. “Why? You were so quick to assure us it was harmless when it was just you.”

Michael had not told any of them the full truth yet, not even Diana. It was now or never. “I can’t just recite the Hexapla. I remember writing it.” There was a pregnant pause—everyone was speechless.

Conrad looked predatory. “Care to elaborate, Mike?”

“Yes, please do.” Diana sat back and cocked her head to the side. Michael knew that look. He would have hell to pay later.

“I’m sorry. I needed time to process everything before I could explain.” He took a deep breath. “I experienced a series of visions … It felt like I lived the life of a priest in third-century Rome.”

The team was silent. Finn found his voice first. “You’re saying you recalled the memories of a Roman priest?”

Conrad took off his eyeglasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “And now you think you’re him? Can I get communion?”

“No, I don’t think I’m him,” Michael said, measuring his words carefully. “But the fact is I experienced the lifetime of someone named Origenes Adamantius. The man wrote thousands of works, including comparative studies of various translations of the Old Testament. I’ve never even picked up a Bible, but now I could be a scholar of several versions. This is not my imagination,” he stressed. “I went to the library. I remember everything just as he wrote it.”

No one spoke for a long minute. The only sound was Finn drumming his fingers on the table. He broke the silence first, “Chief, we need to set up tests for you and record the hell out of this.”

Diana gave Michael’s arm a little pinch. “Ow.” He rubbed his skin.

“Quit holding back,” she threatened.

Michael smiled. She knew him so well. There was nothing to do but drop the next bomb. “I’m now fluent in several languages.”

Conrad finished his beer in one gulp. “Can you fly too, Superman?”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh at that, and he felt some of his tension release. It was true that he did feel a strange new power and wisdom. No one else on Earth possessed the firsthand knowledge of what it was like to live in ancient Rome. “I know it sounds crazy, but I can read, write, and speak ancient Greek, Latin, and Hebrew. I also know some Egyptian.”

Everyone struggled to digest this. Diana finally said, “Are we talking past life recall?”

Michael shook his head. “I don’t know. But it was an episodic, semantic, and emotional experience. Long-term memory access is dependent on new proteins. Right now I’m getting huge amounts, plus additional synaptic firepower. What if the drug enabled new pathways and I retrieved some kind of subliminal memory?”

“Then there could be more memories—more lives.” Diana sounded concerned.

Conrad added, “Like a schizophrenic.”

Michael glared at Conrad, trying to keep his frustration in check. “Whatever it is, we can’t shy away from what I experienced. I think our best course of action is to wait several weeks before anyone else takes it. Until we know the full extent of my reaction.” Diana reached out and gave his hand a squeeze, and he knew he had been forgiven.

Finn leaned forward. “I disagree, chief. This could be the biggest breakthrough since the discovery of DNA. We need to forge ahead.”

Conrad scoffed, but Michael ignored it. “We will, believe me. I just think we need to forge cautiously. Two weeks is all I’m asking.”

Finn signaled the bartender, Patty, for another round. “It’s all you’re getting.”

Conrad studied Michael like a specimen under a microscope. “You can really speak all those languages?”

Michael tried to lighten the mood. “Worried I’m smarter than you now?”

Just then Doc came over with another pitcher. “You guys win the Nobel Prize or something? You haven’t drunk this much since you got that grant.”

Finn raised his glass. “We’re having a breakthrough.”

Conrad mumbled, “Or something.”

“How about four clam chowders and a basket of bread?”

Diana put her hand on her stomach. “Doc, you’re our hero.”

Doc was always trying to feed them on the house. His restaurant had been a second home since he had opened it. He and Michael had been roommates before Diana had come into the picture. The two men had known each other since childhood and had been friends growing up in a suburb outside of Chicago. When Michael moved to Boston to complete his graduate degree at Harvard, Doc had just finished culinary school and came out to visit. He had loved Boston so much that he had stayed and gotten a job at one of the city’s top restaurants, quickly rising in the ranks to executive chef. Later, with his family’s help, he had opened up his own restaurant: Doc’s Waterfront Bar & Grill.

Doc was still hovering at the table, which was unusual. He bent toward Michael. “Captain? Can I talk to you for a second?” He motioned toward his office.

“Sure.” Michael stood up, glad to have a break from the table. He followed Doc to the back, wondering what was up.

They went into his tiny hole of an office and Doc shut the door. “I’m glad you’re here. I was hoping you’d come up for air.”

“I’ve been busy with the project,” Michael said. Doc had a point, though—it had been a while.

“Well, it’s good to see you.”

Michael raised his eyebrows at Doc’s formal air. “You too, buddy. What’s on your mind?”

“Well…” Doc sat, looking a little lost.

Michael waited for Doc to gather his thoughts, but he couldn’t. “Doc, please just spit it out. I’ve had a rough couple of days.”

“It’s about Barbara…” Doc finally blurted. “Barbara and me.”

“You don’t need to tell me—”

“—No, I want to tell you. I want to be the one to tell you.”

Michael forced himself to remain quiet. He loved Doc like a brother but Doc had fallen for the girl Michael had dated before Diana and was convinced this would ruin their friendship. Michael had tried to assure him that it had been casual—over before it even began. His relationship with Barbara had barely amounted to a month of dinners and movies, and a few kisses outside her dorm. She was a psych major, the kind who wanted to analyze every thought and feeling anyone had ever had in order to earn her PhD. Michael had no idea why he had dated her in the first place and had all but wiped their short-lived relationship from his mind, but Doc still felt like he had to treat the whole situation with kid gloves.

“Things are getting serious. I think I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

Doc waited for a reaction. Michael was tempted to tell his buddy he needed a sanity check. Instead he did his best to feign excitement. “Great. Congratulations.”

“Mikey.”

Michael laughed and said, “No, I’m serious. I’m happy for you two. You didn’t have to tell me like this.”

Doc fiddled with a pen. “I just didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”

“Listen, my feelings about you and Barbara getting together haven’t changed. I don’t mind! Got it, knucklehead?”

“There’s one more thing. About the wedding…”

“You were my best man—I don’t expect to be yours. I won’t even be offended if I’m not invited to the wedding. Okay? So stop worrying. Please.”

Doc nodded and tried to hide it as he wiped the hint of a tear from his eye. Michael had read him right. “Come here, buddy. Congratulations.” Michael gave him a hug and joked, “Think you can talk her into naming a boy after me?”

“I suggest that and I’ll be living on your sofa forever.”

*   *   *

Bryan opened his eyes and a thousand thoughts flooded his head. Michael Backer had been his father’s best friend. Doc had even been in his wedding. Which meant …

Barbara. Holy Christ, Bryan had dated his mother—and dumped her. He felt ill.

He tried to sit up but his back protested. He had to quit passing out in his car. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, he looked back at Linz’s building and fought the urge to call her. He wanted to tell her everything, to have her remember it. For her not to possess these memories along with him felt close to physical pain.

With that thought a new fear engulfed him.
What if she never remembers?
No, he couldn’t think that way. The fact that her subconscious had reproduced a piece of Juliana’s life meant Diana must have taken Renovo too, and if she had, then it was possible she would remember more, like him.

Bryan was frustrated by his inability to recall Michael’s life in its entirety. And he was afraid that perhaps he never would. Only fragments were coming, and he knew he needed a tidal wave of memories to understand it all. Michael had only been forty in 1982. If these dreams were memories of a past life, then he had died young—along with Diana. What had happened to them? To their research? To Finn and Conrad?

The questions bombarded him. As he drove home, his mind sifted through what he had learned tonight, but he found no answers. He only knew Michael had remembered Origenes as well, and whatever drug Michael had taken had somehow formed a bridge between their lives.