The Reincarnationist Papers

by D. Eric Maikranz

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Yeah, lots of ’em. Anyway, about an hour later, she and Dominic come back downstairs. Dominic comes over without the bag and pulls me away from this yellow-painted naked girl that I had been dancing with after I let her out of a cage. We get outside, and just as I notice I’ve got yellow paint all over my clothes, he pulls out the largest stack of hundreds I’ve ever seen and peels off ten for me. Evan, she bought fifty grand worth of china for a fuckin’ party, man, and you don’t even want to know what Dominic said was going on upstairs. Man, I’m amazed any of them lived.”

  “So what?” I said defensively.

  “So what?” he said surprised. “So what? So . . . be careful, all right,” he said, softening his tone. He leaned on the frosted glass and looked at me, waiting for a response. The soft-blue glow lit his face from below, giving him a ghostly appearance.

  I felt it welling up inside me like a hot spring from some unknown place. Hatred. I hated Henry for what he was saying. Each word out of his mouth was like a wedge driven between the two worlds I now straddled.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see people raising glasses and bills trying to get his attention. He didn’t flinch. “You don’t understand,” I said, glancing away, unable to look him in the eye.

  “Okay, I don’t understand.” He leaned closer until our noses were inches apart. “Why don’t you explain it to me, Evan?”

  Looking at him was like trying to stare at the sun. Telling him should have been easy but it wasn’t. I’d already told him a hundred times in my head, and each time he had rejected me. I swallowed hard on my anger and just spat the words out.

  “I’m different, Henry.” I exhaled a nervous breath as I watched his face for a reaction. It felt good to say the words, healthy, but hollow at the same time, like I should have said them months or even years before.

  He smiled and shook his head. “That’s it? I’m different, Henry,” he said in a mocking tone. “Dude, you’re a professional arsonist. You’re different. Tell me something I don’t know.” He held up his finger toward several people trying to get his attention at the end of the bar.

  “That’s not what I mean.” Those first simple words felt like the first trickle of water slipping through a fissure in a dike. There were millions of gallons still behind it, eager to eat away at the breech. “I’m not like other—” I stopped when I saw him stiffen and look over my shoulder.

  “Later,” he said, going back to work.

  Poppy put her hand on my shoulder as she sat down. I looked down into the frosted glass and tried to shake off what Henry had told me about her.

  “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said.

  “I’m fine,” I said, putting on a smile for her. “My ghost isn’t here yet.”

  The movie screen flickered to life with The Planet of the Apes as the band fired up.

  “What time is your friend supposed to be here?”

  “Any time now.”

  “I’ll be back in a little bit,” she said, kissing me on the cheek before disappearing into the crowded dance floor.

  martin shelby came in minutes later. This time he wore a pale-gray golf shirt with black slacks and wingtips. “You’re early,” I said as he sat down.

  “I had less trouble getting in this time,” he said, looking around. I could tell he was nervous.

  “Did they question you?” I asked, pushing my empty glass forward on the bar.

  “Yes. Two different inspectors came by. They said there might be an investigation,” he said anxiously.

  “Don’t worry, they always say that. If they had anything, you’d be in jail by now.” I could tell that comment didn’t help his nerves any.

  “Can I get a drink down here?” Martin yelled impatiently.

  Henry looked annoyed as he came over. “Chardonnay?”

  “Whiskey sour,” Martin said softly. I raised my finger, letting Henry know I wanted another beer. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had,” he said as he watched Henry prepare his cocktail.

  “You know, I just might.”

  “First of all, I’ve been nervous about doing this anyway, and then when it happens, I’ve got these pesky inspectors tooling around all the time, taking samples, taking measurements, asking questions. Lots of questions,” he said, looking at me. “Then, on top of all that, my insurance company won’t pay until their inspector comes out next week.”

  Samples and measurements, I thought. There would be an investigation all right. It had already begun. The police must have tipped them off to seeing me leave the scene.

  “Eight bucks,” Henry said sternly. Martin counted off eight one-dollar bills.

  “And that’s another thing, I lost my wallet in here last week along with all my credit cards.”

  “Oh yeah, I meant to tell you about that, Martin.” He gave a slight start when I called him by name. I pulled out his wallet and held it out in front of him.

  “What the hell?”

  “I found it here after you left last week. I knew I’d see you again, so I kept it.”

  “Thanks,” he said, reaching out for it.

  I pulled it away just before he could touch it. “Ah, ah, ah,” I said, shaking my head. “I believe you owe me some money.”

  The realization showed on his face, and he nodded solemnly as he pulled an envelope out of his front pants pocket.

  “Not on the bar,” I said, interrupting his movement. He checked his movement and handed it to me under the bar railing. I casually opened it and checked the bill count. I handed the wallet back to him but didn’t let go as I looked him in the eye. “I think you should go now. You and I really shouldn’t be talking to each other. Know what I mean?”

  He nodded. He was nervous, more nervous now than when he came in. He stood up, grabbed his drink, drained it in one long swallow, and walked straight out.

  “That was quick,” Henry shouted over the band as I pocketed the envelope.

  I nodded. “He’s going to be a real popular guy before long. I don’t want to be around him any longer than I have to.”

  “Why is he going to be so popular?” Henry asked, leaning closer to me to overcome the noise.

  “That’s one of the things I was going to tell you. I was seen leaving the warehouse the night of the fire. The cops chased me around for a while, then one of them shot me as I was about to get away. I was really close to losing the guy, then all of a sudden, blam, I was down. My first thought was to call you and have you pick me up, but Poppy found me and stitched me up.”

  “How did you get away after they shot you?”

  “I hid in the alley behind her church.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Hey, man, I’m sorry about what I said before about her. I didn’t mean to be that harsh. Tell you what I’ll do. The Palookas are playing at the Billy Club on Thursday. Why don’t all three of us go, on me? What do you say?” he asked, smiling.

  I wanted to. I knew it would make everything okay if I could. I just couldn’t keep my feet planted firmly on both worlds for that long. “I can’t, Henry. I’m leaving tomorrow for Switzerland, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

  “Switzerland, what the fuck?” I could see the change come over his face. It went from consolation to distrust. “You going with her?” he said, thrusting his chin toward the dance floor.

  I knew then it was too late to tell him. If I was ever going to tell him, it would have been twenty-five drunken nights earlier, and even if I could manage the courage to tell him now, it would be completely in vain. I knew, or at least hoped, that I wouldn’t come back from Zurich as the same person he’d known, and it felt like I was being forced to reap the harvest of secret seeds sown long ago. “Yes, I’m going with her.”

  “What’s going on, man? You stay with her for what, three days, and no
w you’re going halfway around the world with her?”

  I grabbed my beer and tilted it back as I thought up a story. “I just hit it off with her. She is going there to see some friends and invited me along on her nickel.” Each word felt like a ten-pound weight being placed on my chest. “It’s no big deal. I just don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”

  He picked up a rag and began wiping the bar. “That’s cool. Bring back a souvenir for me,” he said in a flat monotone.

  “I’m sorry, Henry.”

  “For what, not calling? Don’t worry about it.”

  I shook my head slowly. “I’m just sorry.” He raised his eyebrows as he kept wiping, as though he didn’t know how to respond. “I’m gonna get out of here, man. How much do I owe you?”

  “You don’t owe me anything, but think about what I told you,” he said, pointing to the dance floor. “And have a good time.”

  I forced a smile as I got up to leave. I walked away from the back bar as quickly as my three legs would allow and climbed the short section of stairs to a side platform overlooking the dance floor. Each step I took away from Henry was a step toward Zurich. It felt like I could go out the front door, make a right, and walk all the way there.

  Poppy wasn’t hard to find. She danced at the edge of the dance floor in erotic serpentine movements, holding her arms above her head to exaggerate the effect. Several people, men and women, looked on mesmerized as she swayed to the gothic rhythms of the band. I watched as she danced. Everything that was happening, all these changes in my life, were because of her. The spell over her was broken when the music stopped. She looked right up at me as though she’d known I was watching her. She smiled widely, showing her teeth. I motioned for her to meet me by the stairs.

  “I love this music,” she said, throwing her arms around my neck. “There’s a place almost exactly like this in Paris. I’ll show you.”

  “Sounds fun. Are you ready to go?”

  She nodded rapidly. “Did you get your business taken care of?”

  “Yes. Everything’s finished here. I’m ready to leave.”

  antonio stopped in front of the church but stayed in the car as we got out. “Come back at nine o’clock in the morning,” Poppy told him as I walked up the steps ahead of her.

  “Where is he going to stay tonight?” I asked.

  “I keep a small place for him across town for when I want to be alone,” she said, stepping inside. “Go on up, I’ll join you in a bit.”

  She came up a couple of minutes later with a medical vial in her hand. “I think you’re going to like this stuff. It’s special, real mellow,” she said, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  She looked surprised. “Suit yourself, but there’s no need to be a prude about it.”

  “I’m not being a prude,” I said defensively. “I’m just not into it.” The vision of Henry’s story kept running through my head. “Why do you use it?”

  “I like it,” she said matter-of-factly. “To me, it’s the same as asking why you smoke. Because you enjoy it, right? Cigarettes will kill you the same as this,” she said, holding up the assembled needle. “So what’s the difference?”

  “I just remember what it was like in Turkey. I saw it destroy a lot of people.”

  “Weak people,” she said, pointing at me. “You and I and the others like us are different. The same rules don’t apply. You had better get used to that. Besides, it helps pass time, you’ll see one day.” She held her breath and inserted the needle between her toes, exhaling as she pushed in the plunger. “Oh, yes, that’s nice.”

  I turned away and searched for something to take my mind off Henry’s warning. “Who’s that?” I asked, pointing to the stone bust on the bureau.

  “Her name was Teszin, and she was my first love, lover,” she said, running her hand over my short hair. I rolled my head gently against her hand, exposing my neck, which she kissed as we laid down on the bed. She climbed on top of me and pressed her mouth onto my neck, sucking slightly.

  “Harder,” I heard myself whispering. I couldn’t hear Henry at all now. I unzipped the top of her body suit and ran my hands over the soft skin of her buttocks as she ran her tongue along my collarbone. I gripped her tightly in my hands and gently probed her wetness with a finger. She let out a long, low groan that I felt more through her body than I heard from her lips. She rode up higher on me so I could reach deeper inside her. I visualized her erotic dancing as I tasted the salty skin of her breasts. I rolled her over and slipped the body suit down to her ankles in one motion. She pulled it off and slid her hand between her legs as she watched me undress. I knelt between her thighs. She grabbed me and guided me in as I lay on top of her. Time stopped again. She rose perfectly in anticipation of every thrust, never breaking her penetrating stare into my eyes. I had to look away first, and buried my face against her neck as I surrendered to the onrushing ecstasy.

  i lay next to poppy running my fingers along her arm as I caught my breath. “What are the other ones like?”

  “Like me.”

  “Do they use a lot of drugs too?”

  “And then some. I’ll admit that we indulge ourselves quite a bit compared to the social norm, but it all boils down to what we are.”

  “What are we?” I asked.

  “Well, no one knows exactly. How are you supposed to know if no one has ever told you? Some think we are blessed to keep on living like we do, others think we are cursed because we can never escape this cycle.”

  “What do you think?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think we were created special by God and abandoned, spurned because of our hideousness, not unlike the creature created and neglected by Frankenstein, whose intentions were equally as noble.

  “You see, no one ever told any of us why we are different or what to do about it. When we die there’s no great revelation, no judgment day, no explanation, there is only another internment here. We just keep coming back over and over again. So eventually, you have to ask yourself, what is the point in being righteous or virtuous, if you’ll just come back anyway? Your position never changes in the next trip. It doesn’t matter if you were a murderer or a monk the time before. I’ve tried it. We’ve all tried it. That’s why we indulge ourselves as we do. And why shouldn’t we? That’s what I meant when I said you saw opium break weak people. They don’t know what we do. They can’t know, even if they wanted to.”

  “How do you know normal people don’t come back?”

  “You misunderstand me. I think they do come back, just like we do. Have you ever heard them talk about feeling an unknown affinity or loathing toward someone they’ve just met, like they’ve known them before? That’s because they have known them before. I think we are special not because we come back, but because we remember, because we know we have come back and will come back again.

  “The trouble is, we live in a Christian society. The main goal of which is eternal life in heaven, or, put more simply, immortality. The doctrines of Christianity say you must have faith in a savior so that you will live again. What people really need is faith that they have already lived. That is the essence of immortality. You see, Christianity panders perfectly to their weakness and insecurity about this because it gives them some kind of false hope, some false heaven as a payoff for the squandered lives they lead. The horrible thing is that they are ignorant of the truth and that they will never know that they live a lie.”

  “What is the truth?” I interjected.

  “The truth is not what you see when you look around. The truth is what you don’t see. The truth is that you don’t see men living the way they want to. You don’t see them living naturally. Instead, they live their lives as they are told to. They live vicariously through this false spirituality, never having to take
responsibility for their own existence so long as they believe in and are forgiven by an inattentive god. If that is not a sin, I don’t know what is.

  “The most frustrating thing is that we can do nothing for them, even though we know and live the truth. No matter how loud we scream, they cannot hear us. You want to grab hold of the bars and rattle the cages that hold them until they will listen, but when you do, you come away with only handfuls of ether. In the end, you realize there is nothing you can do. It’s killing a legend, and how do you kill a legend? You don’t. You can only replace it.”

  Today, the Saint-Gobain is one of the largest companies in Europe with an annual revenue of forty billion euros.

  Second Notebook

  “But why should not every individual man have existed more than once upon this world?”

  G. E. Lessing,

  The Education of the Human Race, 1778

  11

  The bark of the jet’s wheels against the runway caused my pulse to quicken. The flight attendant announced in four languages that it was three o’clock local time. Gray clouds and drizzle hung low over the city, giving this new world a dark and foreboding air.

  We spotted him at the same time as we walked through the sliding glass doors to the damp air outside the Zurich private terminal. He wore a black jacket and hat and stood next to a gray stretch Mercedes-Benz sedan, holding a white signboard with a black Embe on it.

  “That must be for us,” I said.

  “It’s not specifically for us, but we can take it. There will be a chauffeur here full time for the next day or so. Several others will be arriving before tomorrow night.”

  “What’s tomorrow night?”

  “That’s when your Ascension begins,” Poppy said, closing the door.

  The car pulled away from the curb and out of sight of the terminal. The windshield wipers beat out a steady rhythm as they cut at the light drizzle. Tomorrow night, I thought. It’s funny how life works. You can run in the same circles for months, years, even decades, then a change comes like a sudden storm at sea blowing you hundreds of miles off course, often forcing you to realize you had no course to begin with. I didn’t know nearly enough about what I was getting into, but I was getting in anyway. I wanted to know more about them, and more about myself. I knew this would be a good change for me—it had to be.