GLASS SOUP by Jonathan Carroll (funny books to read .txt) 📕

“What are you going to do, Isabelle?”

She said nothing. She didn’t need to. He knew why she was here. Eventually she looked down at the book he had been reading. “Edmondson. You really love his work, don’t you?”

“Yes. He spoke to God with his hands.”

“Petras, you know why I’m here.”

“Yes, I do.” He pushed the book to one side of the long counter but continued to look at it, as if it could somehow help him.

“Will you tell me now? You promised that you would if Vincent died.”

“Yes, I did promise you.” He removed the eyeglasses and slid them into his breast pocket. He appeared resigned, defeated somehow. “In Lithuania when I was a boy, I saw many things that were wonders. No one would believe me if I said them all what I saw, but that is all right. It doesn’t matter because I saw them so I know that they are true. They are real.

“Many times when someone died, there would be things that were not fixed, not decided—” He appeared to be searching for the right word to use here.

“Unresolved?”

He pointed at her—one sharp jab in the air. “Yes, yes—unresolved. Like one dead man who did not tell anyone in his family where he hid his money, or who should receive a piece of his land. You know, things like that—sometimes they are big, sometimes small.

“No one wants to accept that they are going to some day die, so we try to ignore it. What happens then is we leave sometimes important things unclear after we’re gone.

“Then it becomes very difficult for the ones who are still living. So sometimes it is necessary to talk with these dead ones and find the answers to our questions. It is not a big difficulty to talk to someone after they have died, but you must know how to do it—”

“I don’t want to talk to Vincent, Petras. I want to bring him back here. I want to bring him back from the dead.”

Petras nodded that he knew exactly what she wanted. He jabbed his finger into the air again. “I can show you how to do both, Isabelle. I could do this for you. But why? Why is it necessary to do this?”

“Because Anjo said I must. He told me that at the same time he told me that Vincent was dead.”

Petras pointed to her large stomach. “The child still talks to you?”

“Oh yes. Since the first day he was conceived he’s been talking to me.”

“Show me this again, Isabelle.”

She had already shown him twice in the past but today was different because now she desperately needed his help. She waited and listened. Petras and Ettrich watched her closely for a sign of something—contact, recognition. Nothing happened for a long time and slowly a palpable tension began to grow in the room. Isabelle continued to wait, unfazed. Eventually she straightened slightly and passed the back of her left hand across her mouth. She looked at Petras and said

“ ‘I saw in the east world,

I saw in the west world,

I saw the flood.’”

She had no idea of the meaning of what she had said so she asked, “What does that mean? Do you know?”

The old man nodded and pointed to the Edmondson book on the corner of the counter. “It was how he described the time God spoke to him and what he was shown. That is what I was reading when you came in before. Exactly those words. Your child told this to you? Your Anjo?”

Impatiently she snapped, “Of course, Petras. How else would have known?”

“Yes, all right. Of course you are right—how else?

“So then I will show you. But first I must say something. There is one very great danger when you talk to the dead. It is the same for anyone: when you have learned how to go there, you will always remember the way. You will never forget. For some people this is a Katastrophe. Like the atomic bomb, you know? Once they discovered how to build it and then used it, they could not say Oh that was a mistake—let’s take it apart and put it all back in the ground again.

“That is why old people were asked to do this when I was growing up. It doesn’t matter if they know because they will die soon anyway.”

“Have you ever done it?”

He waved a dismissive hand back and forth in front of his face. “No, I am a coward. The only brave things I have ever done in my life were accidental. I have never had a need to talk with the dead.”

“But you know how to do it?”

“Yes.”

“Then show me, Petras.” She did not hesitate. Both men recognized that immediately and in their own ways, loved her for it. Ettrich particularly because he knew Isabelle intimately and knew she was not a courageous person.

“It is in your stomach—right here.” He put his hand low on his stomach, about where his belt sat. She did the same thing—put her hand down there too.

“Yes, that’s right—where your bauchnabel is. What is the word for that in English?”

“Belly button. What’s there, Petras?”

“Your death—your life and death are in this same place. Here. Here was where you were joined to your mother once. That line was what kept you alive when you were inside her body. But when you were born they cut it so that you could be in this world. When you die you will have it again.”

Incredulous, she could barely splutter, “I’ll be connected to my mother again after I die?”

“No, you will be connected in another way—but to everyone then, every thing, not only to your mother.” He saw confusion narrow her face. “All of that is not important now, Isabelle. What you want to know is this and I will show you. Put both of your hands on your stomach again.

“Once in every person’s life they dream of death.”

She gave a small chuckle.