Until I Find You

“It might not be the appropriate time and place for such a detailed self- examination,” Professor Ritter explained, “but William seems not to notice such things. Occasionally, when he starts taking off his clothes, he has already begun a recitation.”

“A what?” Jack asked.

“His body is a tapestry, which he can recite—both a history of music and a personal history,” Dr. Huber said. Her pager beeped, and she went back to the phone by the door. “Huber hier. Noch nicht!” she said, annoyed. (“Not yet!”)

“The problem for someone with your father’s meticulousness is that he can never be meticulous enough,” Professor Ritter told Jack.

“He’s proud of his tattoos, but he’s very critical of them, too,” Dr. Berger said.

“William thinks that some of his tattoos are in the wrong place. He blames himself for a lack of foresight—he has regrets,” Dr. Horvath elaborated.

“Other times,” Dr. von Rohr chimed in, “it’s a matter of which tattoo should have been closest to his heart.”

“But you can have only a limited number of things that are truly close to your heart,” Dr. Krauer-Poppe interjected. “He has marked his body with what he loves, but he has also recorded his grief. The antidepressants have calmed him, have made him less anxious, have helped him sleep—”

“But they don’t do much for the grief,” Dr. von Rohr said, bluntly—turning her head-on-a-coin profile to Jack.

“Not enough, anyway,” Dr. Krauer-Poppe admitted.

“It might be overwhelming to discuss specific diagnoses right away. For now, let’s just say that your father has suffered losses,” Professor Ritter told Jack. “The Ringhof woman, the German wife, but first of all you.”

“He is an absurdly emotional man,” Dr. Berger said, shaking his head—wishing that William Burns were more of a fact man, apparently.

“The antidepressants have helped—that’s all I’m saying,” Dr. Krauer-Poppe said.

“Keeping him away from mirrors helps,” Dr. von Rohr remarked in her silver- streaked, head-of-department way.

“Are there other triggers?” Jack asked the team.

“Ah, well …” Professor Ritter said. “Maybe Jack should meet his father first?” (The team, Jack could tell, didn’t think so.)

“Bach!” Dr. Horvath roared. “Anything by Bach.”

“Bach, Buxtehude, Stanley, Widor, Vierne, Dubois, Alain, Dupre—” Dr. Berger recited.

“Handel, Balbastre, Messiaen, Pachelbel, Scheidt—” Dr. von Rohr interrupted.

“And anything to do with Christmas, or Easter—any hymn,” Dr. Huber added; she was glaring at her pager, as if daring it to go off.

“Music is a trigger? Or even the names of certain composers?” Jack asked.

“Music and the names of certain composers,” Dr. Krauer-Poppe answered.

“And when he plays the piano, or the organ?” Jack asked.

“Ah, well …” Professor Ritter said.

“When the pain starts—” Dr. Krauer-Poppe began.

“When his fingers cramp—” Dr. Huber interjected.

“When he makes mistakes,” Dr. von Rohr said, with what sounded like finality—at least in her mind. With almost everything she said, Dr. von Rohr spoke with the emphasis and certainty of a concluding remark—this in tandem with the way, as a tall person, she was always looking down at others. Dr. von Rohr seemed no less tall sitting down. (When he’d shaken her hand, Jack had observed that he came up to her shoulder.)

“Yes, mistakes are triggers,” Professor Ritter worriedly agreed.

“William’s meticulousness, once again,” Dr. Berger pointed out.

“And, albeit only occasionally, when he sees your movies,” Dr. von Rohr said, looking at Jack.

“Particular lines of dialogue, mainly,” Professor Ritter said.

“But for the most part, the movies help him!” Dr. Krauer-Poppe insisted.

“But other times—” Dr. von Rohr started to say.

“Ah, well …” Professor Ritter said. “I think Jack should see his father, hear him play, talk to him—”

“In what order?” Dr. Berger asked, perhaps sarcastically; Jack couldn’t tell.

Dr. Huber’s pager beeped again; she got up from the table and went to the phone by the door. Dr. Krauer- Poppe covered her face with her hands.

“Maybe we should tell Jack a little bit about William’s schedule?” Professor Ritter asked.

“Talk about meticulousness!” Dr. Horvath cried.

“Your father likes to know in advance what he’s doing every day,” Dr. von Rohr explained.

“Every hour!” Dr. Horvath shouted.

“Just tell him the schedule,” Dr. Krauer-Poppe said. “Maybe it will help.”

“Huber hier,” Dr. Huber was saying into the phone by the door. “Ich komme sofort.” (“I’m coming right away.”) She came back to the table. “An emergency,” she told Jack, shaking his hand. “Noch ein Notfall.” (“Another emergency.”) Jack had stood up to shake her hand; all the others stood up, too.

The team and Jack, minus Dr. Huber, prepared to leave the conference room. (Dr. Huber had left in a flash.)

“Wake up, hot wax, ice water, breakfast—” Dr. Horvath was saying as they marched down the stairs. Jack realized that the recitation of his dad’s schedule had begun.

“Finger exercises in the exercise hall, immediately after breakfast,” Dr. Berger explained.

“Finger exercises?” Jack asked.

“What William calls playing the piano for the dance class, because he is blindfolded and plays only the pieces he has memorized,” Dr. von Rohr told him.

“Why is he blindfolded?” Jack asked.

“There are mirrors in the exercise hall,” Professor Ritter said. “Lots of mirrors. William always wears the blindfold there, or—sometimes, at night—he plays in the dark.”

“Jogging, after the finger exercises—depending on the weather,” Dr. Horvath carried on. “Or sometimes a trip to town, with Hugo.”

“We haven’t really talked about Hugo,” Professor Ritter told the others.

“Must we talk about him?” Dr. von Rohr asked. “Maybe not now? I’m just asking.”

“Sometimes—I mean after the finger exercises—William needs more ice water, doesn’t he?” Dr. Berger asked.

“It seems to help,” Dr. Krauer-Poppe said with resignation.

“Lunch—I mean after the jogging,” Dr. Horvath continued.

“Or after the Hugo business,” Dr. Berger said, shaking his head.

“Not now, Manfred!” Dr. von Rohr said.

“More hot wax, after lunch,” Dr. Krauer-Poppe noted. “More ice water, too. William often does this while he watches a movie.”

“One of yours, actually,” Dr. Berger told Jack. “A different Jack Burns film every afternoon.”

“And another one in the evening!” Dr. Horvath cried. “Always a movie before bed!”

“You’re jumping ahead, Klaus,” Dr. von Rohr said.

They entered the building with the exercise hall, which was outfitted like a dance studio; barres and mirrors