Save the Last Bullet for God

by J. T. Alblood

  “Idiot,” I murmured. “You know how to observe others but don’t know how to protect yourself.”

  Then I grabbed her hand and we ran out of the gate.

  . . .

  Through the half-drawn curtains in our hotel room, I made out the pale reflections of streetlights and heard the whisper of a few cars on the road near the train station. It was early morning and the fear I’d felt on the dark streets outside the hospital had finally subsided. Now I felt that we had our own world where no one could touch us.

  For the first time, we were alone together, and we fell easily back into the same habit we’d developed in the hospital. We sat beside each other on the edge of the bed in the dark room and looked at the night sky through the half-open window. The unfamiliar smell of the room had already disappeared. I could only take in the smell of her beautiful body and the only sound I heard was her light breathing.

  Neither of us spoke.

  While her eyes lingered on the dark sky, I looked over at her. I looked past the wounds that were starting to form scabs, the dressings with their tincture of iodine, and the black eye that had begun to open, and I saw Maria. She was beautiful.

  Gently, I touched her cheek with my hand. Her deep blue eyes left the night sky and went to the floor first, then to me. I put my arms around her shoulders and as she bashfully looked at the floor, a smile came to her face. I felt her warmth and her trembling, and I longed to touch her longer and protect her.

  Laying a finger on her chin, I turned her face toward mine. I gently pressed my lips to hers, and her wet lips soon opened to a passionate kiss. I pulled her toward me with a breath, and we lay down on the bed. I had been with women before but never someone I had loved. As the night welcomed the day, our bodies united, and we became one. Together, we felt the pleasure of being unaware of what belonged to whom.

  Covered in sweat, we lay on our sides and I placed a small kiss on the nape of her neck as I whispered into her ear, “I love you, and I’ll never leave you.” This was the first thing I’d said since we arrived. She turned and looked at me and pressed her index finger to my lips.

  “I’m feeling tired and…,” she said with a sigh, “It has been a long time since I had a long, warm bath.”

  “Okay, darling.”

  She got up silently, and headed toward the bathroom. I watched the shadow of her curves disappeared behind the door.

  …

  I drifted off into a restless sleep until I was awoken by a delicate, fresh scent and the touch of a wet, warm body cuddled next to mine. She smiled at me and gave a sly whisper into my ear. “And this is for me.”

  She slowly slid up over me, held my arms tight with her hands, and pulled me in.

  After we made love, I sank back into my restless sleep, yet from time to time, I hugged Maria tightly to make sure she was real.

  …

  When I awoke, daylight filled the room. I sat up and immediately noted Maria’s absence. I suddenly became afraid, but grew calm when I saw the half-open bathroom door and the yellow light shining within—she must be there. I got up and went to the bathroom door and stuck my head in. The bathroom was empty. I panicked. “Maria!” I said to no one, hoping that by calling her name she would appear, but I went quiet when I saw the proof of her absence on the nightstand.

  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 m
ind.”

  “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.

  “Is there a specific topic our doctor is interested in?” Maria spoke with an insincerity that hurt me deeply. How stupid I was? But I knew I would need to finish learning this lesson.

  “Actually, as a medical doctor, I’m open to any kind of information or ideas that can help me understand human nature and heal ailments.” I was saying whatever came into my mind without thinking, trying to gain time and prolong the moment.

  “Your delicate concern for the good of your people has really impressed me.”

  She was making fun of me again. I’d forgotten how much of a weakness I’d had for her and that I could still be that vulnerable. She’d reminded me.

  “I hope you will stay for my trance tonight. Perhaps I can take a moment to tell our friends on Aldebaran what a good humanist you are.”