Save the Last Bullet for God (7 page)

On a partially torn page of the hotel
notebook, she had written, “Thank you for everything. I have to go
back to my own life.”

The message was clear, but I still read it
many times. I wanted to open the door and run out into the
corridor, but I was still naked. Like an idiot, I went into the
bathroom and checked it again. I slumped on the bed with the
crumpled paper in my hand, defeated. But then I noticed the
notebook and the indentations in the pages underneath. She had
scribbled something else. I immediately grabbed the pencil and
began shading the underlying page.

She had written a few drafts of her note, and
in one of them I faintly made out the word “Munich”. I grabbed my
clothes and left the room quickly, dressing on the way as I first
walked, then ran to the train station.

…

Crowds of new arrivals and departing
passengers filled the train station. Only a few minutes remained
before the Munich train left. As I hurried onto the platform, the
smoke from the departing train obscured my view. I wove through the
human obstacles in my wrongly buttoned shirt and unlaced shoes,
periodically standing on tiptoe to look around and pushing anyone
who got in my way.

Despite the crowd, I saw her in the distance.
She was wearing the clothes I’d carefully chosen for her the day
before; only the hat she wore was different. A tall young man stood
next to her, holding her as if she was his. I felt weak and
paralyzed by rage. Those whom I’d pushed to pass were now passing
me. Maria disappeared, and the train began to move. I stared at the
car windows in despair and deep shame, not knowing what to do
next.

As I wandered the streets, the haunting image
stayed with me. A tall man putting a suitcase overhead with his
strong arms, and a girl with blonde hair leaning her forehead on
the window and looking at me, her fine lips parted as if they would
tell me something.

In the hope of catching up with the train and
the vision in the window, I turned back and began to run, pushing
aside one person after another until I stumbled and fell to the
ground just before the final car passed me. I didn’t want to watch
the train receding in the distance so I closed my eyes.

…

My wandering led me back to the hospital
where I stared at the broken windows of the guardhouse covered in
newspapers and saw the dried blood stains. As I entered the
hospital, I did my best to ignore the looks and the eyes following
me. I avoided any eye contact with the secretary and walked
straight to Dr. Hubert’s office.

Dr. Hubert was sitting at his desk, facing
the wall. After glancing briefly at me, he resumed his previous
position.

“Sir, I’m sorry,” I murmured, my hands
clasped in front of me and my eyes on the floor.

“Sit down.” Now he was facing me. “Where is
she?”

“She left me and ran away to Munich. Somebody
else was with her…” I tried to hide my shame at being cheated.

“It was her fiancé.” All the hope I tried to
take shelter behind vanished with those words.

“Her fiancé? I…I didn’t know.”

“It’d be much easier if you say what you know
instead of what you don’t know,” he scolded, looking at me through
red, sleepless eyes. After vainly waiting for my response, he went
on.

“Young man, you’re inexperienced and naive.
You left two dead bodies and one seriously wounded behind you, and
you’re walking around here apparently unaware of this.”

“Two bodies? Which bodies?”

“The old caregiver, Eldwin. He was found in a
coma this morning. Poisoned by an overdose of drugs. When we pumped
his stomach, we found thirty of these yellow pills,” he said and
showed me a small yellow tablet with a partially melted upper layer
in a folded paper.

“He’s dead? But I…I only gave him ten or
fifteen pills. He doesn’t use them; he just makes money with them
and takes care of his little granddaughter. He just takes pills
to…” I began to stammer.

“Pffft…Your stupidity really irks me, Mr.
Reich. That man was an addict.”

“But he had a little granddaughter, didn’t
he?”

“He’s dead. That’s all that matters”

I clearly annoyed the doctor, but I still
tried to defend myself.

“The patient next to Maria’s bed. It was a
suicide, wasn’t it?”

With the same weariness, he opened the
drawer, put a sharp, triangular piece of ceramic on the desk, and
pushed it toward me. It ceramic piece was concave, dirty, with
blood covering its pale surface. I felt a sudden stomach cramp. The
ceramic had been part of the vase. I felt dizzy. Now, it was time
to accept it: I’d been deceived and used.

“I don’t want to see you here again. You need
to leave. I won’t let you salve your conscience by suffering
punishment. Now go away before I change my mind.”

“But…”

“Is it necessary to tell you about the nurse
who witnessed Maria starting a fight among the patients, scratching
her own face, and hitting her head on the wall?” Showing me the
back of his hand, he said, “Go!”

I headed toward the door, but something made
me turn back. “You’re wrong, Dr. Huber,” I said. “No paranoid
schizophrenic could plan something like that in such detail and put
it into action. I was blinded by love. But you? You insisted on
your wrong diagnosis. Whose hands are covered in blood, do you
think?”

Before he could respond, I’d already
left.

. . .

In the period that followed, I promised
myself that I’d forget her. I suffered stress, had little desire to
live, and was haunted by the memories. At first I was angry at her
and wanted to take revenge, but I knew that if I came across her
now, I’d forgive her, hug her, and want to go on. Love was a
disease, and it was taking a long time for the symptoms to
disappear, and I needed to do something about it.

In a sudden decision, I got on a train and
went to Munich. Dreaming all the way, I thought about what to tell
her if I came across her. The best moments were spent dreaming that
she’d broken up with her fiancé because of her love for me and that
she was thinking about me more than I was about her. When the train
arrived in Munich, I strode into the streets with indescribable joy
and excitement. I wandered the massive city until I was exhausted.
I got lost in the crowds. I drank coffee in every cafe facing a
street I could find. When I began to lose my hope and night fell, I
gave up and went into a beer house.As I drank, I stared at the dark
sky beyond the window. The next morning, I woke up in a hotel room
I didn’t remember and continued the same desperate search of the
city.

At long last, I gave up and returned to
Vienna. I stared angrily at my reflection in the train window and
cursed myself all through the trip. I promised myself I wouldn’t do
such a stupid thing again, nor would I ever go back to Munich. Even
if I came across Maria by chance, I’d turn my back without looking
at her.

If only that’d been true.

…

Only time is needed to overcome such pain.
Not knowing how long it would take to recover, I went on with my
life. I became busy with school and classes and began to rejoin the
crowds. I began to attend the psychiatry meetings on Wednesdays and
listen to Dr. Freud’s lectures.

After one of those evening talks, as
everybody left the hall and Dr. Freud organized his papers, I
waited in my seat for him to finish. After humoring those who
gathered around him with their meaningless questions, the room
finally emptied and Dr. Freud looked up at me, a lone student
seated in an empty hall. Nodding slightly at me, he headed toward
me and I stood up in excitement.

“You’ve been attending these meetings pretty
regularly.”

“Yes, sir. It’s an honor for me that you’ve
noticed me and a relief that you’re still talking to me after my
attitude that night…”

“Love is a disease, and getting angry at the
symptoms is only cruel to the patient. However, if you had hit my
head with a chair, I might be angrier.” He smiled, and added, “If
you have time, I’d like to buy you a drink.”

…

We sat at one of the back tables in a crowded
cafe close to the meeting hall. Dr. Freud smoked his cigar and took
small sips from his glass of cognac. I sat opposite him, not
drinking my coffee and playing with the cookie next to my cup.

“So tell me, young man,” he said, after a
small cough.

“What can I tell you that you don’t know or
can’t guess? The girl used me, ran away from the hospital, and
dumped me. I went through hard times, but I have finally accepted
it and come back to my life, as you can see.” My speech was
followed by a long silence. And then I added, “I feel like an
idiot!”

Smiling a little, he took a big puff from his
cigar and let the smoke out.

“You have plenty of time to correct your
mistakes,” he said.

Spring 1933, Berlin

Wilhelm Reich

The two weeks before the Vril meeting seemed
endless. I counted the days until, finally, it was time.

The door to my office opened with a slight
squeak and Hellen came in with all her usual glamor.Only, this
time, a wary innocence shone in her prominent blue eyes.

“Hello,” she said quietly.

“Welcome,” I said as I stood up and greeted
her at the door. The pleasant scent of her perfume turned my
head.

“
I thought for a long time,” she said.
“For two weeks, and I think…well, I am so tense. It’s so strange. I
can’t even talk.”

I wrapped my arm around her waist, led her to
the couch, and sat her down. She turned her eyes away.

She opened her bag, took out her white
handkerchief, and laid it on the pillow carelessly before she lay
down on the couch. I settled into my chair, and we waited for a
long time in silence.

“I can’t relax,” she told me. “I’m
restless.”

I didn’t know what Hellen was getting at and
I feared she would cancel our trip to the meeting. I did my best to
reassure her.

“Just take your time. You can talk once
you’re ready.”

First, there was a tense silence, then a bit
of relief when she spoke.

“It’s just a long way, and I have the stress
of staying with my cousin again. She’s jealous and stupid…and so
tactless.”

The old Hellen slowly began to return, and as
she relaxed more and talked on, I found myself back again at my
articles. But I enjoyed the tranquility. The repetition of our
shared habits brought me a bit of peace.

After leaving the clinic, we visited a coffee
garden and watched the surroundings until it was time. We then
headed toward the address with Hellen leading the way.

…

Helen and I arrived at a big stone building
and the man at the door greeted her. We climbed a flight of dim
stairs and entered a hallway with walls decorated with photographs
of archeological relics, sculptures, stone epitaphs, and one
close-up of the Ishtar Gate.

A young, beautiful woman with chestnut hair
down to her hips greeted me and hugged Hellen. Holding each other’s
hands, the two began chatting. We were in a large living room with
windows covered in long, black velvet curtains. A few pieces of
quality wooden furniture were carefully arranged around the sides
of the room. A huge walnut table surrounded by chairs sat in the
middle. Above it was a chandelier giving off a dim light.

The room was full of well-dressed men, a few
military officers, and a lot of beautiful, long-haired girls.
Hellen was beautiful and charming, too, but her beauty faded beside
them. Even more so when I saw another woman standing in their
midst: Maria.

She hadn’t changed at all, and she looked
even more beautiful than I remembered. I felt an old ache in my
stomach. I realized I was still affected by the sight of her. How
many years had it been? Twelve? Fourteen? How much had I changed?
Before I could relax myself, Maria looked at me for a second and
went back to her chatting, and I nearly fainted.

I looked around desperately for Hellen. She
was making her way around the room, talking to everyone, and her
face was glowing. When we caught each other’s eyes, she must have
realized my despair, because she looked embarrassed and immediately
came running back to me. Grabbing my hand, she began to introduce
me to those around us. Her warm hand gave me some confidence as we
headed toward Maria.

“Maria, I’d like to introduce someone to
you,” Hellen said, tactlessly interrupting Maria’s conversation
with the others.

Maria and I caught each other’s eyes. A
shadow appeared in her eyes for a moment, but it immediately gave
way to a sparkle and then a fake smile.

“This is the famous psychoanalyst and
neuropsychiatrist, Dr. Wilhelm Reich,” Hellen said. “He’s very
interested in your studies.”

Maria gave me a beautiful smile and slowly
extended her hand. With a slightly awkward movement, I touched it
and bowed over it briefly. I didn’t expect an electrical shock as I
touched her, but I had hoped for some sort of reaction. Instead,
she gave no sign of recognition and I lost all hope.

“Dr. Reich, I’ve read a few of your articles.
I must confess that I do not agree with all your ideas, nor those
of Dr. Freud’s, but, still, you have a very radical and progressive
approach.”

She knew who Wilhelm Reich was, but she
didn’t know who I was, or else she was pretending, very
successfully. Remaining silent, I thought about which of those
possibilities would best serve my purpose.

Like a stupid teen, I wrapped my arm around
Hellen’s waist to gain strength and feel safe. “I have heard of you
as well,” I said. “Hellen told me how beautiful you were, but I’d
never guess you’d be such an intellectual as to follow my articles
on psychiatry.” Even I couldn’t tell whether I was speaking the
truth or just being sarcastic. I suddenly didn’t know what I was
doing there.