The Memory Painter

Bryan hedged. “He taught it, but who knows.”

“It says here he was imprisoned and burned at the stake.”

“No,” he corrected, unable to stop the edge in his voice. “He was tortured, pilloried, and bound by his limbs to a block for three days. He died a week later from the injuries.” He stood up and wandered over to Linz’s sand garden. “The man who ordered his death was named Septimus. He had a certain hatred for all Christians, but despised Origenes the most. The priest’s end was … savage.”

“Septimus,” Linz whispered with a shudder. “Yes, that was his name.” She sat still for a long time, trying to process this new information. “You remember his death like I did hers.”

He kept his back to her, staring at her garden and nodded to the rake. “May I?” At her consent, he took off his shoes and stepped into the sand, talking while he drew. “When I was a little kid, I had vivid dreams … nightmares. I sleepwalked, talked … even had narcolepsy for a while. Then, when I was seven my brain flipped a switch and I recalled an entire lifetime.”

Linz looked astounded. “You remembered his entire life?”

Bryan nodded, letting her assume he meant Origenes. He didn’t tell her that it had been Abu Ja’far Muhammad ibn Jarir al-Tabari, a Persian historian who was born in the ninth century. A scholar of unequaled acumen, Tabari wrote The History of the Prophets and Kings, a detailed account of Muslim and Middle Eastern history spanning the time of Muhammad to the present. Tabari then went on to write The Commentary of the Qur’an, which he had memorized at the age of seven. Now, Bryan had the Qur’an memorized too.

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