The Memory Painter

He followed Linz to the Theology Section and watched as she searched the rows until she found what she was looking for.

“Guess we didn’t have a hunch about this,” she said, showing him the title: Origenes Adamantius, His Life and Times. “The priest really existed.”

Bryan kept silent as he studied the rows of books. He already knew Origenes had lived. He also knew all the priest’s works by heart, in their original language, but it was always interesting to hear what history had to say.

Linz gathered more books. With Bryan’s help, they hailed a cab and headed back to her place. Neither said a word in the car. The windows were down, and the Turkish cabdriver had a classical song from his homeland playing. Bryan turned his face to embrace the wind, marveling at how luminous Boston appeared at night. Finally, he had found someone who could possibly understand his world, and yet he hesitated to reveal it to her. He wanted to hold Linz’s hand, to revel in their connection. But he knew that she was still reeling from their discoveries. Even Bryan was having trouble grasping her ability to speak Greek, that this was something she shared with him. He had no idea what it meant, or where they should go from here.

Perhaps they could start with dinner and movie, or another battle at chess. Bryan chuckled at the thought.

“What?” Linz looked over at him.

“Just thinking about the future,” he said. She looked away quickly and he smiled to himself, beginning to grow accustomed to her reserve. He found it endearing, and a challenge. They were more alike than she knew. One day, he hoped, she would let him in.

*

When they arrived at her place, Linz had mixed feelings. Part of her just wanted to be alone, to forget this whole evening, to forget the Greek swimming in her head, to forget Bryan’s relentless gaze. Maybe she liked it better before when he wouldn’t meet her eyes because now he was staring at her like he knew her thoughts. She looked away and grimaced at the stack of library books.… What the hell was she doing with all of these books?

Linz paid for the cab. “Care for some light reading?” she asked Bryan. She tried to pass it off as a joke but failed.

With a silent yes, Bryan took the books and got out, letting her lead the way.

When she opened the door, Bryan went to sit on the floor and piled all the books on the coffee table. “I think you got all of them,” he teased and picked one up from the top of the stack and began to leaf through it.

Linz studied him again. There was something about his startling blue eyes, his disheveled hair. They hadn’t even known each other for forty-eight hours, but it didn’t matter. She was sure a connection existed. She could feel it, although the logical side of her brain rebelled at the thought.

He glanced up at her and smiled, and when she replied her voice sounded faint. “I’ll just go get us some wine.”

She escaped to the kitchen and cracked open a bottle. In her mind, she began to make a crazy plan. She would seduce him tonight and they would have sex. She would allow herself one uninhibited “night with the eccentric artist.” It would be a first on all fronts but at this point Linz didn’t care. She needed to get him out of her system so she could get back to real life.

Her last fling had been two years ago with a fellow student at Stanford, a biochemist named Greg who had been nice, safe, and boring. She had called it quits when checking the spectrometer had become more stimulating than a romantic tryst. Before Greg it had been Todd, the prequel to nice, safe, and boring. Both were good guys with four-letter names, friends who had morphed into something else for a time. Linz had tried to convince herself that she felt more for them than she did, and went along with being a couple until they tried to pour cement into the idea. Then she would end it. The truth was she preferred solitude. Her work had always been her passion. And having a one-night stand with Bryan would not interrupt her life at all.

Feeling more in control, she returned to the living room with the wine. Bryan was still immersed in the book.

“Anything?” she asked, sitting a few feet away from him.

“Origenes lived in the third century. He was one of the church’s most controversial teachers, considered a scholar of his time.” He handed the book to her and grabbed another, moving away to sit on the couch. His smile was gone, replaced by a solemn, strained look.

Linz grimaced to herself. So much for the grand plan. Now he was acting like they were at a funeral. With a sigh of resignation, she opened a book and began to read.

*