The Memory Painter: A Novel by Gwendolyn Womack Read Free Book Online Page A

reconcile what had just happened to him. But he couldn’t come to terms with it. His panic rose and he sat up, yanking the electrodes off his head.
    Diana hurried in and brought up the lights. “Hon? You okay? What the hell just happened?”
    Michael took several deep breaths as he prepared to lie to his wife for the first time. “What do you mean? What happened?”
    “You were speaking in Greek just now.”
    “Greek?”
    “We recorded it.”
    He looked away, disconcerted … that complicated matters. He remembered speaking Greek in his dream, but he hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud. He also remembered speaking Latin and Hebrew. Dizzy, he closed his eyes. Diana reached out to support him.
    Finn spoke into the microphone. He and Conrad were still behind the glass wall in the control room. “You okay in there, chief?”
    Conrad leaned in and added, “Mike, can you describe what happened?”
    Everyone waited for an answer. “Sorry, it’s all kind of disjointed.” Michael could feel their disappointment.
    Diana tried to buoy the group. “Everyone, it’s late. Let’s give him time.”
    She continued to talk but Michael wasn’t listening—instead he was riveted by her eyes. How could he explain his certainty that she had been the woman he had just witnessed being burned alive in ancient Rome? The memory still fresh in his mind, he walked out before anyone could see him cry.
    *   *   *
    It was four-thirty a.m. and only six cars sat in Boston’s Neurological Institute’s parking lot. Diana got behind the driver’s seat of an old Jeep Cherokee. Michael climbed in beside her and closed his eyes. After a few tries, the car started and they pulled out.
    The drive home to their apartment in Charleston took ten minutes. Michael felt the car come to a stop.
    “Hon? We’re here,” Diana said softly, keys in hand.
    He appreciated her not grilling him on the way home but could tell she was brimming with questions.
    She led him up the stairs, unlocked the door to their apartment, and disappeared into the bedroom. Michael sat on the couch and listened to her move about as she changed. He stared at the small living room. Everything looked the same but different.
    A tiny one bedroom, the place had been perfect while they were in med school—the rent was cheap—so they had stayed even after they had gotten married. They were currently channeling all their funds into their research, with the hope that it would pay off down the road. Michael wasn’t sure if what happened to him tonight was their biggest breakthrough or a brutal end to their study.
    Diana came out in her nightgown, her face scrubbed and her hair in a ponytail. It made her look sixteen instead of forty, and Michael gave a small smile. It reminded him of an old gymnastics picture he had seen of her in high school, poised on the balance beam—head gymnast, she liked to remind him. Petite and athletic, she still had a nymph-like air about her, coupled with a look of immense concentration and determination to tackle any obstacle. Right now, the obstacle happened to be him.
    She sat on the chair instead of the couch, and crossed her arms. “Are we going to talk about why you lied?”
    Michael remained silent.
    “I know you remember what happened in there.”
    “I need some time.”
    “For what? Shutting us out of our own study?”
    Michael didn’t want to do this now. “I’m not shutting you out,” he insisted and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The apartment was so small they were still in the same room, but she followed him anyway.
    “We sanctioned this. You can’t have a reaction and keep it to yourself. This isn’t just about you.” She pointed her finger at his chest to punctuate the point.
    “I know that. Don’t poke me.”
    “I didn’t poke you,” she snapped.
    “Yes, you did,” he yelled back.
    “I can’t believe you’re trying to change the subject.”
    “I’m not! I said I can’t talk about it yet. Can you