Richard Burgin - The Best American Mystery Stories 2005

In his apartment he found it difficult to sit still, and nearly impossible to sleep. He began pacing from wall to wall of his apartment, trying to move without any thought or even excess motion, like a fish in an aquarium, varying his passage as little as possible as he continued his routine.

Then, finally, a change. The phone rang in his aquarium, he picked it up for some reason, following some fish-like impulse, and heard the voice of Bill Evans saying, “I’ve got to talk to you, man.”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“Not on the phone. Are you free now?”

Remy thought of the dark streets and wasn’t sure how to answer.

“It’s important.”

“OK,” Remy said.

“You know Coliseum Books on Fifty-ninth Street?”

“Yes.”

“Meet me there in half an hour. I’ll be in the mystery section.”

Remy hung up and continued pacing rapidly for a minute, like a fish doing double time. Then he stopped and began wondering if he should call a cab or not — would it really be any safer? And as he thought, the water around him evaporated, as did his feeling of having gills and a fish persona. He was so happy about that he decided to run the twenty blocks to the bookstore, keeping his mind as thought-free as possible although he did feel a low but persistent level of anxiety the whole way.

As promised, Evans was in the mystery section in a long black overcoat looking at or pretending to look at a book by Poe with his black-rimmed glasses. Their eyes met quickly, Evans, looking around himself, half nodding, but waiting until Remy was next to him before he spoke in a low voice barely louder than a whisper.

“We can talk here, man.”

“What is it?” Remy said. He wanted to say more but couldn’t, as if all those silent hours away in the aquarium made him forget how to talk.

“There are some things I think you don’t know, that I want you to know.”

“What things?”

“About the club and its ideas. When I was talking to you at the last meeting you looked confused when I was referring to my trio, like you didn’t know how old I was.”

“But then I figured it out.”

“Yah, man, cause I talked about Scotty’s death and the record I made a year later. You figured it out ‘cause you know about my career. But let me lay it out to you in simple terms ‘cause you’re going to have to make an important commitment at the next meeting and when you make it it’s like a complete life commitment. When you take on a new identity there are a lot of rewards, but also a lot of demands. You have to do a tremendous amount of research too and you have to have a lot of strength to leave your old self completely behind. In that sense you have to kill your old self and its old life. The only thing you can keep is your job but you have to do your job the way Nathanael West would, if you go ahead and decide to become him. That’s why it takes so much courage and faith as well as work — time spent in a library, or whatever, doing as much research on him as you can. And finally, well let me ask you how old you are?”

“Twenty-nine,” Remy said in a voice now barely above a whisper.

“OK, man. You’ll live the life West did at twenty-nine, you’ll take on his life in chronological order from twenty-nine on, so when you turn thirty West will turn thirty until...”

“Until when?”

“Until he dies, man. I wanted you to understand that. That’s where the courage and faith part come in.”

“But he died so young.”

“Like I said, I’m gonna pass pretty soon too, but I’m also going to play jazz piano more beautifully than anyone’s ever played it — that’s the reward part — and besides, as long as the club exists I’ll be reincarnated again somewhere down the line.”

“But you‘ll be dead.”

“No man, I’ll be Bill Evans reincarnated. I might have to wait a number of years but like my song says, ‘We Will Meet Again,’” Evans said with an ironic smile.

Remy looked down at the floor to get his bearings.

“Do all the members understand this when they make their commitment?”

“Don’t worry about the other members. Just focus on yourself.”

“But what if I lack the courage and vision to do this, to...”

“Have you been studying the club literature, especially the parts about reincarnation?”

“Not as much as I should have. Look, Bill, what if I decide I can’t go through with this and just want to withdraw my membership?”

“I wouldn’t advise that, man,” Evans said with unexpected sternness. “I really think it’s too late for that in your case.”

Instinctively Remy took a step back — his face turning a shade of white that, in turn, made Evans’s eyes grow larger and more intense.

“Do you realize the invaluable work we’re doing?”

“Yes, no,” Remy said.

“We’re saving the most important members of the human race — allowing their beauty to continue to touch humanity.”

“But you’re killing them again. Why not give the, give yourself, for example, a chance to live longer to see what you could do with more time?”

Evans shook his head from side to side like a pendulum.

“You can’t go against karma, man. We have to accept our limits.” Remy took another step back and Evans extended his arm and let his hand rest on his shoulder.

“This world is as beautiful as it can get. You have to accept it. You know, like the poet said, ‘death is the mother of beauty.’”

“It sounds more like a suicide club than an identity club,” Remy blurted.

“Sometimes when something is really important or beautiful you have to die for it, like freedom. Isn’t that why all the wars are fought?”

“But most wars are stupid and preventable.”

“Death isn’t preventable, man. We know this. Every bar of every tune I play knows this. It’s like we accept this unstated contract with the world when we’re born that we understand we’ll have to die but we’ll live out our destiny anyway.”

“But all of science and medicine is trying to extend life, to defeat death.”

“They’ll never succeed, man. We know that, that’s why we’re a club of artists. Death and reincarnation is stronger than freedom. You have to give your life to forces that are bigger than you. Isn’t that the unstated contract we all understand once we realize what death is? Isn’t that humility the biggest part about what being a man is, man?”

Remy bowed his head, surprised that Evans was such a forceful speaker, and spoke with such complete conviction to the point where he had almost moved himself to tears. But all Remy felt was a desire to flee, to hide under his blanket and have the Identity Club, the agency, and New York itself all turn out to be a hideous dream.

“As a matter of fact I took a risk seeing you like this and laying it all out for you.”

“I appreciate that and I’ll never tell anyone what we spoke about. I won’t mention it to anyone at the agency, I promise. The agency is really a key player in all of this, isn’t it?”

“I can’t get into that, man.”

Remy nodded and felt a chill spread over him.

“Again, thank you for meeting me and for everything you told me, which, of course, I’ll keep completely confidential,” Remy said. He thought he should shake hands with Evans then, but couldn’t bring himself to do it, instead found himself backing away from him.

“Remember how important beauty is and courage,” Evans said, looking him straight in the eye.

“I’ll remember everything you told me.”

“See you at the next meeting then.”

“Yes,” Remy said, “I’ll see you then.”

He walked out of the store dreading the streets, feeling someone from the club might be following him. It was entirely possible that Evans might have tipped off somebody and had them tail him or perhaps had already informed someone at the agency. Had he made Evans feel he would cooperate and go forward with his membership? He could only hope so.