George Hartmann Box Set

by Kelly Utt

  My mind moves through a series of memories of Ali and me together in Ancient Greece. I see the two of us bathing together in the sea at night under twinkling stars. I feel her body pressed against mine as waves dance around us and blood rushes hot as lava to meet every sensual touch. I stroke her curly hair and tuck it gently behind her ear with my strong, calloused hands. She doesn’t seem to mind their roughness. Next, the scene shifts and I see Ali and I laughing and making love on a hay-covered floor in a barn near an old farmer’s animals. Then I see us running through a meadow full of the most beautiful flowers together, holding hands and smiling so much our cheeks feel like they might burst.

  “George,” Dr. Epstein interrupts. “I’m going to begin to bring you back now.”

  “Not yet,” I mouth silently. I’m too immersed to say anything audible.

  “I want you to begin to come back to this present moment, completely grounded in your body,” Dr. Epstein continues. “I will bring you back to full waking consciousness by counting up from one to ten.”

  When I hear my time is running out, I set the intention to fast forward this memory and see some more of what happens. In response, I’m flooded with a rapid succession of scenes which show me highlights of major events as they unfold. I see Ali’s belly distended and realize she’s pregnant. I’m overjoyed! She’s going to have my baby. My joy quickly turns to despair as I realize our secret is out and the powers that be are angry. They won’t allow us to be together. Not only that, but a group of elders convenes and decides Ali must give up her status as a princess and be banished from the city. My heart breaks during this period of time and I can feel the pain in my chest now as I remember it. There’s nothing either of us can do. The rules about classes in our society are rigid and immutable. Ali is sent out of the city and finds refuge with an old medicine man who lives in a small village on the far side of the island. He doesn’t have a wife or children of his own, so he takes Ali in and treats her like a daughter. I see the old man’s face and look into his eyes to determine whether or not I recognize him from the here and now. As a matter of fact, I do. It’s Roddy! Roderick Davies is the medicine man who took Ali in. Just as Ethan said. I don’t think these soul recognition discoveries will ever get old. They are so powerful. So certain. I’m eager to piece together as many connections as I can. It’s wonderful to know that Ali and Roddy had a father-daughter relationship in Greece even though they weren’t father and daughter by blood. Like John Wendell told Sara last weekend at Yellow Cob, family is about much more than blood. Family finds each other all kinds of different ways and it always, always, always finds each other.

  “With each number up, you’ll be more and more awake and alert,” Dr. Epstein says.

  I tell myself to hurry. I want to know what else there is. What about our child? I see our infant being born in the little cottage Ali shares with Roddy the medicine man. My Greek self isn’t there in person to welcome my child into the world. It’s a boy. I have a son. He has dark hair like mine. He’s beautiful. Sweet and innocent. I look into his eyes, and sure enough, it’s our Ethan! Our Ethan is our baby boy in Greece. I’m so happy that it’s him.

  “One…” Dr. Epstein begins.

  I’m filled with a mixture of love for my family and dread as I continue to remember. Ali and Ethan aren’t safe in this little house outside of the city.

  “Two…”

  They don’t have the protection of our army here. I stop in to see them as often as I can when my group travels this way, but it’s usually months in between visits. I don’t take another lover. I don’t marry. Ali is my one true love. She and Ethan are my family. But I can’t be with them.

  “Three…”

  A sinking feeling takes over as I recall what Ethan told Marjorie as we sat together the other day. It seemed so far-fetched then, but now I wish I didn’t have to know it. Yet I already know it. I’ve always known it. Oh, how I wish it wasn’t so.

  “Four…” Dr. Epstein continues. “Becoming more and more awake and alert.”

  Ethan knew. He said the man who tried to take him from our house last weekend took him from his little house in Greece. And that we couldn’t stop him then. He said he was scared and that he had to die.

  “Five…”

  Reluctantly, I set the intention to see exactly what happened. I see my son. He’s somewhere around the age he is now at four or five-years-old. He’s a handsome little guy, growing up strong. He and Ali and Roddy are as happy as they can be together. Ali misses the city terribly and longs to be with me. She feels cheated. Forgotten. Unfairly disgraced. She wishes our son could know and experience all that the city has to offer. She wishes she could be more carefree and rest easier within the safety of our walls. She makes the best of it though. She’s raising Ethan to be a good boy.

  “Six…” Dr. E says. “As you become fully alert, ask yourself if this memory is trying to tell you something. What is this memory’s importance to you now?”

  My heart aches as I watch the scene. I distance myself like Dr. Epstein said I could, partially because his counting is pulling me away from Greece and partially because it’s too painful to watch up close. A group of men has come onto the shores of our island. I think they’re pirates. Those details are fuzzy, too, so I don’t know for sure why they’re here. There are eight or ten of them. They’re moving through the tiny villages on the part of the island where Ali, Ethan, and Roddy live and ransacking then burning down the houses. Screaming villagers are running around terrified.

  “Seven…” the doc continues. “Is there any knowledge, wisdom or understanding that will help you in your current circumstances? What do you need to know?” He has no idea.

  Two of the men approach my family’s cottage carrying torches. They kick the door down and force their way inside. Roddy steps forward and tries to be a barrier for my wife and child. He’s old and feeble and easily knocked to the side. The intruders make a beeline for Ethan, pushing Ali out of the way as she tries to protect him. They set fire to the little house, carelessly.

  “Eight…”

  One of the intruders takes the lead, grabbing Ethan and carrying him away while Ali and Roddy watch helplessly from their burning home.

  “Nine… More and more awake and alert.”

  The fast forwarding accelerates further and I see Ethan’s lifeless body, left in the woods alone for wild animals to consume. My God, he’s dead. My son has been killed. I see Ali utterly devastated and inconsolable and without a proper shelter to live in. I see myself a few weeks later on the day I arrive for a visit when I instead find my family’s house burned down and my son missing.

  I didn’t protect them. It’s all my fault. This wouldn’t have happened if they had been in the city. They were out here in the country because of me. I shouldn’t have fallen in love with Ali and gotten her pregnant. She’d still be a princess right now. Ethan might have another father, but he’d be safe and alive. I’m a lowly soldier. I never deserved to be with a princess. What was I thinking? I’ve failed my family in the worst possible way. And I’m completely and totally helpless to do anything about it. My pain and my shame are overwhelming.

  “Ten…” Dr. Epstein says. “Let your eyes open. Come all the way back to full waking consciousness.”

  I follow his instructions and open my eyes. When I do, I notice that the sides of my face and the back of my head and neck are saturated with tears. The recliner cushion below is so wet it looks like someone poured a bucket of water on it. I wasn’t actively crying, but tears were flowing. It feels like the immense sadness of what happened has always been inside me. Today it was tapped, allowing the tears to flow freely.

  “I’m coming to the hypnotherapy room to get you, George,” Dr. Epstein says.

  I hear what I assume is the water glass clinking again and then him taking a swallow. It strikes me as fundamentally wrong that life here and now goes on as if nothing happened when such an unspeakable tragedy occurred before. I feel terrible about my
failures. Mostly though, I think about what Ethan said. The man who tried to take him from our house last weekend was the same one who took him and then killed him in Greece. I didn’t have a chance to look into the eyes of that man in my memory to see if there was any soul recognition. I didn’t have time to ask for more information. He was part of a pair. Was the other guy our getaway driver? Why in all of the heavens would they be after Ethan again? Why were they after him in the first place? They didn’t rape or otherwise harm Ali, thank God. But why did they go right for Ethan like that? There must be more I don’t know. I have to find out.

  I’m deep in thought when I hear Dr. Epstein turn the door handle and enter the hypnotherapy room. He slowly raises the level of light with a dimmer switch and then audibly gasps when he sees the wetness from my tears and the puffiness of my eyes.

  “My word, George,” he says quietly, in the most serious tone I’ve heard from him yet. And that’s saying a lot. “What happened? Did you remember something upsetting from your childhood?”

  I don’t know if I have the composure to converse like a reasonable person right now. I feel like a humongous scab has been ripped off of my very being. I believe what I just experienced was real, but I can’t make sense of it all yet. I’m scared. Horrified. Ashamed. I want to run out of this building right now and find the getaway driver. I want to shake him until he gives me answers, then pummel him until he takes his last breath. I’ll spend this life in prison. I don’t care. If these creeps are chasing my son to do him harm across thousands of years, what’s a prison sentence in order to protect Ethan for the rest of this lifetime? I’ll gladly sign myself up. But I can’t. I don’t know where to find the guy. It’s not like he’s likely to remember Greece anyway, even if he is the second pillager. So many questions swirl through my mind. This is going to take a while to understand and unravel. To get justice and protect my family, I’m going to need to dedicate my energy to the endeavor. I’m overwhelmed by the task at hand. How am I ever going to accomplish this? And if I do, what’s to stop the guys from coming back for Ethan in another lifetime? How does that even work? I take a long, deep breath and stand up from the recliner to face Dr. Epstein.

  “I remembered a happy memory from my childhood,” I say. “I was a toddler in bed with my parents in Brooklyn. They were sleeping and snow was falling outside. It was all good.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Dr. Epstein says. “But there’s clearly something else that’s upsetting you. What else?”

  I know I should think twice before telling Dr. Epstein I remembered a past life. I mean, most people would probably think that’s bat-shit crazy. And Dr. Epstein doesn’t strike me as the past life memory type. I need to get to Marjorie. And to the psychiatrists she mentioned who study this stuff.

  “I remembered living in Ancient Greece with my family,” I say, against my better judgment.

  “What?” Dr. Epstein says, his face contorting into a look of disbelief.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “You said I could remember everything. I guess I took that to heart. I was very relaxed.”

  He crosses his arms against his chest again, then slowly raises one hand to cover his mouth. He begins to speak, not once, but twice, each time shifting his weight and adjusting his footing. He doesn’t vocalize anything more than a mutter. He has no idea what to say right now. He’s assessing me. He’s probably combing through a list of mental disorders in his mind to try and figure out what’s wrong with me. My concern for social niceties is gone and I don’t give a damn what he thinks. I remain standing and we look at each other in silence for what feels like a long while. Finally, he finds words.

  “George,” he begins. “Have you ever had difficulty concentrating? Or a hard time remembering things?”

  “What?” I ask. “No.”

  “Have you ever heard voices in your head?” he asks.

  “I have not,” I answer, although I must admit my dream about Dad and the scream no one else heard comes to mind.

  “Do you sometimes have trouble figuring out what’s real and what isn’t?”

  Now I’m becoming angry. “What are you getting at?” I ask. I’m not crazy. At least I don’t think I am.

  “I want to understand, George,” Dr. Epstein says. “Whatever is going on, I’ll help you work through it. I’ll be sure you receive the appropriate treatment and medication if necessary. Let’s go back to my office. I’d like to ask you a few more questions and add to my notes.”

  Before I have time to respond to that thinly veiled threat of being labeled certifiably insane, Liam appears and sticks his head into the hypnotherapy room.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” my uncle says. “George, your mom needs you right away.”

  I shake my head in an attempt to brace myself and absorb what he’s saying. We were planning to head to her house when we left here anyway. Maybe she wants us to pick something up on the way. I take my mobile phone out of my pocket and see that I’ve missed eight calls from her. It’s not like Mom to keep calling if she doesn’t reach me on the first attempt.

  “Linette says she tried your mobile phone. She called me when she couldn’t get ahold of you,” Liam continues.

  “What’s going on?” I ask. “Does she need us to swing by the store on our way to her house?” I know the answer to that question before I ask it, but I’m grasping for the possibility that nothing serious is going on.

  “It’s your grandpa, George. He fell trying to get out of bed and they think his hip is broken. You need to get to the hospital.”

  11

  Recognition

  The sky looks heavy and gray as we pull into the parking lot of the hospital emergency room. Snow clouds. Ithaca is due for more of the white stuff. I have a feeling it’s going to come down hard and heavy once it begins. Liam’s driving again. He offers to drop me off at the curb, but I’d rather wait on him so we can walk in together. He parks the Tesla and comes around to open my door when I don’t get out right away.

  I wonder if John Wendell arrived by ambulance. And I wonder if it will have been his last ride. Or his last time feeling the crisp, New York winter air on his face. He always loved the winter. I remember the January during my senior year in high school when it snowed so much the city came to a standstill. John Wendell didn’t mind. He and Grandma still lived out on Ellis Hollow Road then, but when the snow started coming down they drove to our house to spend the night so John Wendell could get out on the sidewalks and walk around downtown the next morning. He was in his seventies at the time, but fit as a fiddle. He went up and down the block shoveling walkways and digging out vehicles alongside people half his age.

  “Looks like your mom’s car is parked right over there,” Liam says, pointing to a nearby corner of the parking lot. “John Wendell rode in an ambulance and she drove herself over. I wish she would have called me before she got in the car. I would have driven her. I intend to be here for her as she moves through this. Alec would have wanted it that way.”

  “It’s not your responsibility though,” I mumble.

  “Yeah, well, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t take care of my brother’s wife in her time of need?” Liam replies. “He’d be here to do it himself if he could. It’s only right that I fill in. I know he’d do the same for me if the roles were reversed.”

  “You’re a good brother,” I say. “I hope my boys grow up to be half as good to each other as you and Dad were.”

  “They’ll be better, George. They’re growing up with the best family any kids could ask for. Those boys are going to make you prouder than you ever dreamed possible. Just wait and see,” Liam says.

  “That’s what I’m hoping for,” I say. “I wish John Wendell…” My voice trails off and I can’t finish my sentence.

  “I know, George,” my uncle says, reaching over and wrapping an arm tightly around my shoulders as we walk towards the entrance.

  No one likes hospitals. They’re filled with scared people who are having some of the wo
rst days of their lives. Not to mention that the buildings always smell funny. Disinfectant, disease, burning flesh, and God knows what else make for an assault on the olfactory organs. The scent of the hand soap alone has been seared into my memory and won’t let go.

  “Did anyone call Ali?” I ask.

  “I don’t think so, unless your Mom called her after she talked to me.”

  “Okay,” I reply. “She won’t be expecting us home for a while anyway, but I want to call her as soon as we see John Wendell and get a report from the doctor who is treating him. I hope Dr. Madera can be here since she knows his medical history and he’s comfortable with her.”

  “Does Dr. Madera have hospital privileges?” Liam asks.

  “I’m sure she does. She makes house calls from time to time, so I imagine she sees her patients all the way through.”

  “These days, a lot of hospitals utilize staff physicians to treat a patient while they’re in the hospital so the primary care doctor doesn’t have to,” Liam explains.

  “Yeah, well, call me old-fashioned, but I want him to have Dr. Madera. I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” I reply.

  The emergency room is bustling with activity when we arrive. Liam leans down to ask a man at the reception desk where we should begin as I spot Mom sitting alone in a row of chairs towards the back of the waiting area. She looks so lonesome back there by herself. So vulnerable. She’s been on her own for decades since Dad died, but until now, I think I’ve taken for granted what a support John Wendell has been for her. I won’t soon forget what he said at Yellow Cob about me being in town and able to take care of her now.