The Memory Painter: A Novel (19 page)

“My father is on these people’s films?”

Bryan threaded the tape through the projector. “These are Michael and Diana’s home movies.”

“You watched their home movies?” she asked. Now she was beyond unnerved.

“Yes,” Bryan admitted, exasperated. “I have to know who these people are, for my own sanity. I can’t get them out of my head. It’s different than the other times.”

“I think it’s time we discussed just how many other times there have been,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. At first, she had been fascinated and amazed by their connection—was even starting to buy into the idea of reincarnation. But Bryan seemed trapped in a dream world, unable to get out, and she didn’t know if she wanted to join him there. “I thought we agreed you were going to drop all this stuff about that Diana woman,” she reminded him.

“I’m sorry but I can’t. Just please sit down and watch the film.”

“I don’t want to sit down.”

“Fine, then stand.” He started the projector and turned off the light.

Linz stayed by the door. Diana was projected on the wall, smiling to the camera with her hair in rollers as she got into a waiting car. The next shot jumped to a church, with Diana outside in her wedding dress.

“It’s their wedding day,” Bryan explained needlessly.

Linz didn’t speak. Captivated by the film, she hugged her body in a protective stance as the clicking sounds of the projector ran through the dark.

The film jumped to the altar, where Michael waited with his best man, Doc. Beside him stood two more groomsmen—Conrad and Finn.

“That’s my dad,” she said, feeling dazed.

“I know.” He corrected himself, “I mean I know now.”

Conrad moved closer to Michael and Doc. Diana walked up the aisle and took Michael’s hand.

Linz watched the entire ceremony, and the silly moments that were captured afterward while the wedding photographer took pictures. Conrad was in every other shot. The film ended as Michael and Diana drove away in their Jeep, decorated with cans that trailed behind the car.

“My father knew those people?” she asked, astounded.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I had no idea he was your father. I swear.”

She stared at the blank wall where the image had been projected. The whole thing was too bizarre.

“You’re shaking.” He took her hands.

“No, I—”

“It’s okay. Watching them affected me the same way.”

“I’m not affected.” But even as she said the words, she knew they were a lie. Watching the film had filled her with the most profound ache. She wanted to cry.

She saw how hurt Bryan was by her reaction and tried to make him understand. “Look. I’m normally a logical, methodical person. I don’t date artists or talk about past lives or contemplate anything remotely esoteric. I don’t want my life turned upside down.”

Bryan reached out to touch her arm. “I know all of this seems crazy—especially this whole connection with your father—but don’t shut me out. Please, don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.” Linz stepped away. “But every time I’m with you, the moment I start to get used to things, then it changes and gets weirder. I don’t know who these people are. And I don’t care. So what if my dad knew them?”

“They were scientists who studied memory and were working on a cure for Alzheimer’s,” Bryan stressed. “They died in 1982 before we were born.”

“And you think we were them.”

“Yes.” Bryan’s eyes were unyielding.

She searched his face, shaking her head sadly. “I’m afraid the ride stops here.” She was already regretting the words but she knew they had to be said. “Let’s take a break, okay?”

Bryan gave her a little smile and brought her hand to his lips. He kissed the inside of her wrist just as he had the day they met, but he didn’t try to stop her from leaving.

TWENTY-FOUR

Linz undressed in the dark. She felt herself sinking into a depression. The emotion felt alien to her and unstoppable. When she had walked into her condo, the place seemed empty and pointless, and for the first time the colorful puzzles on her walls looked silly. As she lay in bed, she stared into the dark at Bryan’s painting of Origenes and Juliana that now hung on her wall. She had tried keeping it in her closet, but she knew it belonged in the open. Her dream had been an albatross all her life, and yet it had brought her Bryan. Was that a good thing? She didn’t know.

Unable to sleep, she went to her living room and stood in her garden. Enjoying the sand beneath her feet, she took the rake and smoothed the ground, erasing the design she had created two nights ago. Her body relaxed as her hands directed the rake aimlessly, letting it leave fine lines in the sand with its teeth. She worked until she grew sleepy.

When she finished the design and went to bed, she didn’t even bother to admire the ornate symbol she had created—a symbol only the most knowledgeable Egyptian scholars in the world would have been able to identify.

*   *   *

Returning from the break room with a third cup of coffee, Linz read the e-mail that had just arrived from her father. As usual, he had kept it short:
Come see me.

She knew he wanted to discuss the party. Her sudden departure with Bryan the other night had been too strange for her father to let it slide. He would have a hundred questions, coupled with some harsh opinions, but she also had a few of her own—for starters, who were Michael and Diana Backer?

Linz took the elevator up to the top floor, but her father was on the phone.

He waved her in. “I’ve got five hundred million alone invested in the project. You do the math when we convert to yen.” He laughed and switched to flawless Japanese.

Linz looked out the window while she listened to her father’s conversation. It had always amazed her that he was fluent in several languages. She had grown up hearing him speak in Japanese, French, and German. Funny how he had never tried to teach any of them to her, and she had never asked him to. What would he think if he knew she was fluent in Greek?

She smiled to herself, imagining the look on his face. Conrad saw her and shot her a questioning look. She indicated that it was nothing and let him finish his call. They had become so attuned to each other over the years that they had developed a way of communicating without words.

Linz had no memory of either her mother or her brother. Her father was her only family. To Conrad’s credit, he had never shipped her off to boarding school, but had tried to raise her on his own as best he could. She loved him, although sometimes his protectiveness could become overbearing. In some ways, it bordered on controlling.

She heard him wrap up the call and turned around.

He came over and gave her a hug. “You look tired.”

“A little. I wanted to apologize for leaving early … and talk to you about a couple of things.”

Conrad headed back toward his desk. “Okay, I’m all ears.”

“Can you tell me about Michael and Diana Backer?”

Her question had clearly caught him off guard. “Michael and Diana who?”

Linz frowned. It was impossible that he didn’t remember them. “Dad, you were in their wedding party.”

“Who told you that?”

“Bryan showed me their wedding video.”

“The painter from the party?”

“Yes, the painter that you were very rude to.”

Conrad sat down. “What’s he doing with a film belonging to deceased people he doesn’t know?”

“How do you know he doesn’t know them? You don’t know anything about him.”

“Then enlighten me, please.” Conrad’s voice grew softer and more subdued. He was getting angry, but Linz wasn’t happy with the course of the conversation either.

“His father was an old friend of theirs. Why didn’t you just say you knew them?”

“His father was an old friend,” he repeated. “Which of course makes perfect sense. Why wouldn’t he watch their home movies? Then he comes to our house, I catch him snooping around—”

“He wasn’t snooping.”

“—looking sick. God knows what drugs he’s on.”

Linz was incredulous. She could not keep her voice from rising. “He’s not on drugs!”

“Did you check his medicine cabinet? I’m assuming you watched the film at his place.”

“Back up. You’ve completely got the wrong impression. I just asked if you knew Michael and Diana Backer and you lied.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Fine, evaded the question.”

They glared at each other, having reached an impasse. Conrad finally relented, explaining, “I don’t talk about Mike and Diana because it was a long time ago and … it’s upsetting. We went to school together. They were my best friends, just like Penelope and Derek are to you. What if you tragically lost them?” Linz’s anger deflated and she started to feel ashamed. Conrad sighed, continuing, “I can’t remember you ever accusing me of lying to you, and I have never criticized the company you keep. What’s going on with you?”

Linz tried to get a handle on her thoughts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … I haven’t been getting much sleep.”

Conrad’s concern overrode his anger. “Are you dreaming again?”

“No. Just a little insomnia.”

Conrad’s intercom buzzed. “Dr. Jacobs, your eleven o’clock conference call.”

Conrad checked his watch in frustration. “Stormy, I don’t want to cut this short. Why don’t we have dinner tonight? The Bay Tower at eight.” He led Linz to the door. “We’ll talk more then.”

She nodded and fixed her gaze on his tie, recognizing it as one she had given him. “Sorry I upset you. I still want to hear about them though, if you’re up to it.”

“But why, honey?”

“I can’t explain it right now. It’s complicated.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and left.

Conrad went back to his desk, looking as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Ignoring the flashing light signaling his conference call, he picked up the phone and made another one.

*   *   *

Linz took the elevator back to the tenth floor. As she walked down the long glass corridor to her lab, she saw Dr. Parker through the window of the Genome Department. This time, when he gave her his usual friendly wave, Linz decided to stop. As she entered his lab, he turned to her with excitement, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation. “We have pinpointed the melanoma lineage specific enhancer”—he waved the printout in his hand as he continued—“with clear inducible chromatin looping!”

Linz smiled and went with it. “The wonders of computers.”

“Though I’m not quite sure about this Epigenomic analysis,” he said, more to himself, and turned away to study a nearby monitor. He had clearly exhausted his social skills. Linz knew other scientists with the same flaw, especially from her father’s generation. Luckily she was not similarly afflicted. A thought occurred to her.

“Dr. Parker, did you know Michael and Diana Backer? I believe they were in your field.”

He looked up from the monitor, startled that she was still there. “Of course. I met them through your father years ago.”

“Because they went to med school together?”

“Yes,” he said. “Then Conrad worked for Mike.”

Linz nodded as if none of this was news. “Of course.”

“He took over their research when he started this company.”

Linz nodded again, a sense of surrealism starting to kick in. “What were they working on?”

“A study to help enable memory retrieval in Alzheimer’s patients. I was disappointed that it was never published. It was all such a shame.”

“Yes, I remember him talking about it. What was the project name again?” Linz prompted.

“I’m not sure if I…” Dr. Parker paused a minute. “Ah yes, Renovo.”

Linz hid her surprise—that was the same name Bryan had mentioned during dinner. “Right, Renovo.”

“Over the years, I’ve asked your father on several occasions if I could take a peek at the file. But he’s always said no. Such a shame, to see their research buried in a coffin.”

A shiver ran down Linz’s spine. She nodded, unable to speak. Dr. Parker smiled and turned back to his work.

Linz hurried back to her lab, where she found Steve watching a video online. It took her a second to realize it was a video of him on YouTube, doing a bizarre dance-performance piece. The second he noticed her, he killed his monitor, mortified. She pretended not to see. “Steve, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Get me whatever you can find on a research project named Renovo. Check NIA’s databases and our archives.”

“What year?”

“1982.” The year Medicor was founded—five years before she was born.

Her cell phone rang before Steve could ask her any more questions. It was a number Linz had never seen before—it looked like an international call. She was about to answer when the call dropped. She waited to see if a voice mail would register, but nothing came.

Linz was annoyed. She had hoped it would be Bryan. She knew she should make first contact since she’d been the one to suggest they needed a break, but still she wished he’d ignore her request and call her anyway—or better yet, show up at her door. Linz shook her head, disgusted with herself.
So much for willpower.

Frustrated, she turned off her phone and threw it in the drawer. Missing him wouldn’t accomplish anything. There was work to be done, and it just might help her ignore the feeling that simply wouldn’t go away: her life was beginning to fall apart.

TWENTY-FIVE

Bryan hung up the airphone, not sure what he would have said if Linz had answered. He imagined how the conversation might have gone and grimaced. How could he explain his actions without driving her further away?

He had pushed too hard when he had forced her to watch the film. The problem was that Linz remained a stranger to the memories they shared, and the farther down the rabbit hole he went without her, the more she became a stranger to him. The distance between them was growing, and the realization terrified him.

It didn’t help that the memories from Bjarni’s life threatened to overwhelm him. After Linz had left, Bryan had stared at the ceiling for hours and then headed to the studio to paint.