by Ulf Wolf
Julian took it, shook it. “Julian.”
“And you’ve met Melissa, I see.”
“Ah, that’s your name,” said Julian, not facetiously.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Melissa, now friendlier. “Where are my manners?” Another offered hand, which he took and shook. “Melissa Marten.”
“Julian,” he said again. Then, “Can we talk?”
She nodded, as did Ruth. The old man said, “This way,” and led him into a nicely furnished living room. “Anywhere you want,” he said, meaning take a seat. Which he did.
Ruth said, “I told them.”
Sitting by her mother, the likeness, especially the eyes, was striking. As was the contrast, blonde and black. “You told them?” he said.
“Yes.”
Then he caught on. “Oh, that you’ve told me?”
“Yes.”
The old man, Ananda, was regarding him intensely, looking for what?, Julian wondered. And soon found out.
“Do you believe her?” he asked.
Straight to the point. And he really meant the question, Julian could tell.
And that was the question, wasn’t it? The one that had kept him up all night, and that had led him to visit strangers at what might to them have appeared as first light.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I do.”
“You do,” said Melissa Marten. Confirming.
“Yes, I believe her. I believe that what she told me is in fact the case. That’s why I’ve come.”
“How could that possibly be?” said the old man. Which sounded to Julian more like “Why on earth would you believe a child’s fantasies?” Again, that was one aspect of what he had pondered all night.
“I’m not a religious person,” he said, addressing Ananda, then looking over to Melissa and Ruth to indicate that his answer was meant for them, too.
All three waited for him to go on.
“Or a particularly spiritual one,” he continued. “I am more of a logical person. I like things to make sense.”
Ananda was nodding slowly, “According to reason,” he said.
“Yes, according to reason.” He looked at all three taking him in, one after the other. Then he continued:
“I don’t care how precocious the child, no ten-year old understands particle physics as well as Ruth does. I’m sorry. That’s just not happening. No way. But here she is, and I know—don’t ask me how, not just yet anyway—but I know that she has a firmer grasp on the subject than I have myself. Which flies straight in the face of making sense.”
Melissa Marten sat stiffly upright, as if listening with her entire body. Ruth, smiling a little, now seemed to enjoy this.
“Where would such knowledge come from? That’s what I’ve been asking myself all night. How could she possibly? Unless. Unless, indeed.”
“But she would not have to be the Buddha to know that. Why not Einstein or someone like that?” suggested Ananda.
“Why would she lie?” said Julian.
No takers.
Then he said, “Once you open the door to having lived as someone else before. I mean, once you credit that with being possible, then I’d take her word for it. One’s as impossible as the next.”
Ruth nodded. Well put, is what she nodded. Melissa Marten didn’t move a muscle. The old man shifted in his chair, crossed his legs, and drew breath. But before he had a chance to voice whatever else he had in mind, Julian said:
“So it’s true, isn’t it?”
Mother and old man—uncle, grandfather, what?—exchanged a brief glance. Ruth still nodding. Good going.
Seemed like mother drew the shorter of the straws. “Yes, Julian,” she said. “That’s who she is.”
Ruth still nodding.
“The Buddha?”
“Well, I’m Ruth now,” she said. “I was the Buddha once.”
“That’s what I mean,” said Julian.
“How are you at keeping secrets?” asked Ananda.
“She already asked me that,” he answered.
“And the answer was?” he wanted to know.
“I can keep a secret,” said Julian. “And that’s partially why I’m here. I know many who can’t. And I know many who would not believe anything Ruth has told me. I’m not even sure why I believe her, but I do. I really do.”
“We’re all good at keeping secrets,” said Melissa. “Except, this one,” she said, looking down at her daughter. Who, again—without looking back up at her mother—nodded. Yes, she’s right. Terrible secret-keeper.
“I don’t know if you took a chance with me,” looking straight at Ruth now. “Or, perhaps you knew I could deal with it. But you can’t go telling people about this. That’s what I came here to tell you.”
“I know,” said Ruth.
“So why did you tell me?”
“You’re right,” she said. “I knew that you could deal with it, as you put it. And, I also felt that you had a right to know. “
“You do know what gravity is, don’t you?” said Julian.
“You’re right, Julian. It’s longing.”
“You see?” he said, addressing Melissa now. “That’s why I had to believe her. Only one other person, ever, that I know,” then a thought struck him, a memory. “Well, two, actually. My father did, too. But no one else has ever equated gravity with longing, and none with such certainty—she really does know, you know. No one with such certainty as your daughter.”
“Longing?” said Melissa.
“Long story,” said Ruth.
“Try me,” said her mother.
Before any attempts were made, Julian asked, “Does Kristina Medina know?”
“Not really,” said Ruth.
“Not really?”
“She’s asked me the very same question you did,” said Ruth.
“Which question?”
“She wondered who I was, really.”
“She would,” said Julian. Then, “But you didn’t tell her?”
“No. Someday I would, is what I told her.”
“You should tell her.”
“I know.”
“What about longing?” said Melissa.
:
Julian did not leave the Marten house until after lunch, which Melissa had cooked for the four of them. By the time he left, Melissa knew more about gravity than she’d bargained for, and that, at heart, it was all about longing.
But more importantly, Julian had been put fully in the picture, as Ananda put it, and now knew that he had a very important part to play in waking up planet Earth.
Also—and they had all agreed—he had their blessings: he wanted to be the one to tell Kristina.
:: 78 :: (Pasadena)
Melissa stood by the nearly closed door and watched Julian Lawson cross the street and get into his car.
“He’s spoken for,” said Ruth from behind her.
Melissa swirled around. “What?”
“He’s spoken for,” said her daughter.
“Listen you. You had better stay out of my head.”
“I’m nowhere near it. I’m just telling you, his heart is given, never to be given again.”
:: 79 :: (Pasadena)
Julian called her at school. It was a number he knew by heart.
After a short while she came on the line.
“Kristina.”
“Yes, Julian.”
“We need to talk.”
When she did not respond, he added, “About Ruth.”
“What about Ruth?”
“Not on the phone,” he said. “Here, any time. Come here. To my office.”
:
Kristina Medina arrived shortly after the school day was over, and did in fact wake him up when she entered his office without knocking.
“Julian!”
For the briefest of moments he was back in Brooklyn and his mother—and none too happy about it—was back in his room for the third or something time, making sure he got up, or he’d be late for school.
; But it wasn’t his mom at all. “Kristina.”
“You were sleeping, Julian.”
“Sorry. I don’t think I slept at all last night.”
She cleared a spot for herself and sat down. “What kept you up?”
“Ruth.”
As if that would explain everything—which, in fact, it did.
“I see.”
“I know who she is.”
Kristina turned very still. Possibly holding her breath.
“Kristina. She is the Buddha.”
“The Buddha?”
“That’s what she told me yesterday, and they confirmed it this morning.”
“They?”
“I went to her house this morning. I met her mother, Melissa, and her—what is he, Ananda? Her uncle? Grandfather?”
“I don’t know,” said Kristina. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
“Well, Ananda Wolf was there as well, and they, all three, confirmed it: Ruth Marten is a reincarnation—though they didn’t use that word—of the Buddha. The actual Buddha, as in the founder of Buddhism.”
“Why did you go to her house?”
“To warn her, more than anything.”
Kristina waited for him to continue.
“For if that’s really true…” Another thought occurred to him, “Did you know that she, just like you, sees gravity as longing. In fact I think she knows that gravity is longing.”
Kristina smiled in recognition, or recollection.
Julian said, “If Ruth Marten really is the Buddha, and I believe that she is, she could do worse than keeping it to herself.”
“What do you mean?”
“No one would believe her.”
Kristina nodded. This was true. Though, “You believe her.”
“And you,” said Julian, quite certain about it.
“I don’t know, Julian. That’s a tall order.”
“Well, you do, don’t you?”
“It would explain things.”
“It does explain things.”
“What else did she say?”
“She said that she is here, she has returned, to wake us up, the planet. The population. And that she now sees the best way to do it: to wed science and religion—her words.”
“She said that? To wed science and religion?”
“Verbatim.”
“Wow.”
“I know.”
“Is that why she’s studying quantum physics?”
“That is precisely why she is studying quantum physics. To gain the right vocabulary, she said.”
Kristina was shaking her head, not so much in disbelief as in wonder.
“But she understands it? It’s not just the words.”
“Oh, she understands it, all right. Better than I do, I think.”
“And you believe her? About the Buddha, I mean.”
Did he? Really? “Yes,” he said after a brief introspection. “I find that quite believable. Not that I know anything about the Buddha, but if that is who this girl—who is no more a young girl inside than you or I—if that is who she says she is, then I see no reason not to believe her.”
“But that’s not the same thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“To not disbelieve is not the same thing as believe.”
Good point. “Let me put it this way then: I don’t know that she was the Buddha, but I believe her when she says that she was.”
Yes, this she could see, for she nodded again. Then she said:
“What should we do?”
“I’ve thought about that. I think we should do two things: Keep an air tight lid on who she is, and assist her in any way we can.”
“It’s clear what you can do to help her, but what do you think I can do?” wondered Kristina.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her.”
“I think I will do just that,” she answered.
:: 80 :: (Pasadena)
The strategy agreed upon that morning among Melissa and Ruth Marten, Ananda Wolf, and Julian Lawson was that Ruth would have to be at least sixteen years old to even vaguely be taken seriously, whatever message she would deliver to the world.
Melissa and Ananda would have preferred that she does nothing of any sort until she is eighteen, but Ruth strenuously objected. They looked to Julian to mediate. He had seen sixteen-year-old geniuses, had in fact been one himself, come to think of it.
“See?” said Ruth, turning pointedly to Ananda and her mother.
“Is that right?” said Ananda.
Julian explained that he was accepted at Cal Tech at that age for his exceptional aptitude for science.
“Maybe it’s easier to be accepted young in that field, as a scientist,” suggested Melissa.
“That’s the field I’m entering,” Ruth pointed out.
Which Melissa realized, yes, of course, that’s true.
So, for the next five years or so, Ruth would have to cool her heels, and prepare.
“Five years,” said Ruth. Not in protest, more as a sigh.
“You can help me in my research,” said Julian. “I’ll make you my research assistant.”
“You can do that?” asked Ananda.
“I don’t see why not.”
“Five more years,” said Ruth again.
No one answered her this time.
:: 81 :: (Pasadena)
“Ruth,” said Kristina after the final bell. “Would you mind staying a while.” Someone, she didn’t catch who, giggled one of those look-who’s-in-trouble giggles in Ruth’s direction. If Ruth noticed, she didn’t show it.
“Sure,” she said.
Once the classroom had emptied, Kristina walked over to Ruth’s desk and pulled out a chair—to small, really—and sat down.
“Julian told me,” she said.
“I know,” said Ruth.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I had promised Melissa and Ananda not to tell anyone.”
“But you told Julian.”
“I couldn’t help it.”
“You are the Buddha?”
“I was the Buddha.”
“And you have returned?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Why?”
“Why? Take a look at the world, Kristina. That’s why.”
She blushed at her own stupidity. “I’m sorry, Ruth.”
“No need.” Then said, “I had hoped that by now the Dhamma would have spread and taken good root everywhere and that the world would now manage on its own. But what I saw—especially when I returned as Bruno—proved otherwise.”
“You were Bruno?”
“Yes, Kristina.”
“I should have known.”
“How could you have?”
Kristina frowned, then shifted on the narrow chair. “What is the Dhamma?”
“It is Dhamma in Pali, Dharma in Sanskrit. It is the Buddha’s teaching. When I taught the Buddha’s Dhamma I voiced it in Pali.”
“Ah,” said Kristina. “Dhamma.”
“The world is on a suicide course, Kristina,” said Ruth. “I must do what I can to stop it. I must turn it around. But the world is like a far too huge ocean liner on a perilous course, far too close to and heading for the rocky shore. How do you halt such a vast momentum and turn it toward safety and enlightenment?”
“I don’t know, Ruth. How do you?”
“By science, I hope. By unifying science and religion. That’s what I hope.”
“To wed science and religion. That’s what Julian said your plan was.”
“Yes, to wed science and religion. An old bristlecone thought that would be a good idea.”
“What?”
“Another story,” said Ruth. “Another time.” Then: “Do you think it will work?”
“Science and religion?”
“Yes.”
Kristina took a long internal journey, and fell silent for so long that Ruth wondered if Kristina had in fact heard her.
She had
. Returning, she said, “Today’s priest is the medical doctor. But I don’t see anyone marrying medicine and religion. The scientist is not quite as deified, though he is viewed with respect and not a little awe. But will they listen to him, or her? I don’t know.”
“I trust they will. The bristlecone said they will.”
“The bristlecone. Tell me. Now.”
Ruth did.
“You’re a little much to take,” said Kristina once Ruth had finished her White Mountains story. Though she smiled as she said it.
“But that’s what he said,” said Ruth.
“Well, he’s been around long enough. He should know.”
“My thought, precisely.” Then, “But you don’t think it will work?”
“I didn’t say that. In fact, I think it’s the only tack that will work.”
Ruth nodded. “I’m glad,” she said. “I’m glad you agree.”
The Kristina asked the burning question: “How can I help, Ruth?”
Without hesitation, Ruth answered, as if she had already considered this, at length, “Help me through high school without me going crazy. Help me to transfer to Cal Tech to work with Julian as soon as that’s feasible. Help keep my secret secret.”
“I can do that,” said Kristina.
“Sorry for not telling you sooner,” said Ruth.
:: 82 :: (Pasadena)
Melissa had not been moved by anyone for as long as she could remember. Not since meeting Charles so long ago, and those feelings—she had since discovered and eventually admitted to herself—had not been love as much as compassion.
Who was this Julian Lawson, and why had Ruth told her what she did about his heart. Who had he given it to?
Then, as the mind tends to do if you let it, it rushed off into sweet courtship, engagement, marriage and a few more children before she got a fix and a hold on it again. Melissa, for heaven’s sake.
Still.
:
At one point that evening she asks her daughter, seemingly out of the blue, “What did you mean about Julian Lawson’s heart?”
“It’s been given.”