Three Billion Heart Beats: The Journey of the Buddha, through the Eyes of a 16 Year Old Girl

Cycle

Red Walls

It wasn’t that he didn’t see the need for rehab. A look in the mirror was enough to convince him how the years of alcohol and abuse had worn on him. But that didn’t mean he belonged here with all of the crazies. In his own mind, Colin McLaughlan was still the same person he had always been: a rainmaker of global finance. As Chief Executive Officer of McLaughlan & Lukwitsch—at one point the largest and most powerful investment bank in the world—he had controlled an enormous amount of wealth and influence. How could his fellow patients measure up to that?

From his lounge chair, he observed a man who he knew was being treated for his addiction to internet porn. The man looked out of a large window into the beautifully groomed garden, making soft bird sounds. In Colin’s opinion, the staff should have skipped the rehab stage and stowed him away in a lunatic asylum. The poor bastard.

The center where he was spending time, was located close to San Diego. It was a large complex, made of red stone walls more than twenty inches thick. Although he was free to leave at any time he pleased, the facilities felt like a prison all the same. Most of the windows were small to allow the air-conditioning to do its work in the dry heat, but some parts of the construction had glass panels looking out over the waves rolling in from the Pacific. The only thing interesting that ever happened outside were the vultures that occasionally came to feast on an unfortunate animal that had succumbed to the heat. The birds would remind him of all people out to hurt him: his colleagues that had abandoned him after the bank had to declare for bankruptcy, his so-called friends that had cut off all contact when he had been accused of securities fraud. And above all, the government that kept on trying to break him down even more. All patiently waiting for a chance to get to him in his weakest moment to devour the last scraps of him. As if there was anything more to lose.

At least today promised a break from the usual grind of coaching sessions where highly paid professionals worked with their wealthy patients to try and keep them away from whatever vices they couldn’t stay away from. It was the one Saturday in the month where he was allowed to see visitors. This week, he was expecting the only person that was still willing to visit. Although he had missed an important part of his daughter’s childhood, he had been able to hire her the best nannies and get her into the best boarding school the country had to offer. He felt a shiver of the pride that had propelled his life before things had gone south. For a second, he didn’t feel like such a bad dad after all. But only for a second. He knew that he had screwed up. A soft voice in his mind kept on reminding him of that fact, a bit louder every day, however hard he tried not to listen.

The room where he would meet his daughter felt clinical. The sterile white space seemed to have been designed with only one message in mind:

You are not here for fun; you are here to be cured.

With nothing to do but to wait for Eva to come in, Colin felt a familiar anger arising, fueled by the injustice that the world had brought upon him. Outside of the clinic, he would have poured himself a scotch to temper his anxiety. But here, the only thing that he could do was to accept the feeling and wait for it to go away.

His fingers touched his face, which was covered with three days old stubble. Slowly he moved his hands down, exploring his shape under the simple white t-shirt he was wearing. His body, once athletic, dressed in tailor made suits, now felt like a bag of flesh draped around weak bones. He grabbed the sides of his chair with both hands and squeezed hard. His knuckles turned white while he observed the veins pulsating with a combination of blood and frustration. His grip tightened further. Forcing his eyelids closed, he remembered the advice of one of his shrinks: he was supposed to breathe calmly and direct his mind to focus on a situation in the past. It wasn’t easy, but after a few breaths, he could almost smell the scent of spices mixed with rose petals floating through the restaurant where he had taken his wife seventeen years ago. That day, Colin had been named CEO of the bank. After he had signed the contract, his ego had virtually enveloped the world. It was that night, however, when things had started to go terribly wrong.

Samadhi

For ordinary people, it would have taken at least six months to get a table at Samadhi, a trendy restaurant on 18 th Street in the Meatpacking district in Manhattan. For Colin, it had only taken a quick call to his personal concierge. A few hours later, he summoned his driver to pick him and his wife Karmen up from their apartment at the corner of 75 th and Madison.

After they made their arrival known at the restaurant, a beautiful hostess wearing a black mini dress summoned them to follow her. She led them into a dark hallway where a red carpet absorbed the sound of his wife’s heels. Hundreds of flickering candles illuminated the cave-like space. What was more impressive were the old-fashioned hot tubs that stood against both walls. There were three on both sides, each filled with rose petals floating on steamy water. The colleague who had recommended the restaurant to him had not been exaggerating, Colin thought, as he glanced at the six girls that sat in the tubs, their bodies covered by black one-piece bathing suits. Like live paintings, they formed the entry to the large dining area.

He diverted his gaze from the penetrating eyes of the models and looked at Karmen, who walked in front of him. Her blonde hair reached her lower back and the long red dress she wore accentuated her tall body. Although she was at least a generation older than the girls in the tubs, she could have easily replaced any of them, he thought, a proud smile forming on his face. But how long, he asked himself. For how long would her body be able to withstand the impact of time? His smile had disappeared as soon as the thought formed in his mind.

When they entered the restaurant, Colin noticed a large statue of a Buddha, illuminated by bright light. As they walked to their table near the center of the restaurant, he saw that the statue was actually an ice sculpture. A black cylindrical lamp, painted bright red inside, hung above the transparent work of art. When he looked at his wife standing still in front of the Buddha, he saw a smile on her face. He somehow sensed that for her, the sculpture represented more than just an elaborate backdrop for their dining experience. With a bit more force than he needed, he took her hand and guided her to their table, positioning her back towards the sculpture.

They had been married for almost five years. As soon as they met, he had known she was different from the countless others that had come before her. Unlike them, Karmen had never been impressed with his career nor with the power that he wielded. He remembered the night he fell in love with her. During one of their first dates in New York, they had crossed a street when a bum asked them for money. They didn’t have any cash, but even if they had, Colin’s instinct would have been to brush the man off and tell him to find a job. Karmen however, stopped and apologized to the man for not having any change, wishing him well. Colin was surprised—she actually seemed to mean what she said. In his world where acts of compassion usually went hand in hand with six figure donations and names on buildings, her genuine empathy felt so much more meaningful.

That night, he had fallen deeply in love with her. Perhaps her calm and compassion had been the trigger. Perhaps it were exactly the characteristics he did not possess himself that had attracted him to her. However, those same things that had caused him to fall for her had also become a source of frustration. The fact that he and his wife did not value the same things had nourished a feeling of dread and misunderstanding that became stronger with days and months passing by. When he studied her face, sitting across from him, Colin acknowledged that he did not truly understand his wife even after all these years. In fact, he seemed to understand less of her with each minute ticking away.

After they ordered their food, Karmen asked him about his new job. Colin launched into an explanation of how he planned to position the bank for even more growth. But immediately, he felt the irritation in his stomach. His sentences sounded uninspired in his own ears and he abruptly called over a waitress and ordered the most expensive bottle of champagne on the menu. Silence enveloped them as they waited for the drinks to arrive, both alone with their thoughts.

As usual, it was Karmen who broke the silence, bringing him back to the subject that had been dominating their discussions lately. They had been talking about the possibility of having children for quite a while. Initially, he hadn´t been able to understand why one would want to give up so much freedom without getting anything back in return. Listening to his wife talking about selflessness instead of selfishness, caring instead of being cared for, giving instead of taking, he had very quickly tuned out. Only when he had started to see the whole endeavor as a project, something that he would be able to excel in, had he consented with Karmen going off birth control.

His initial enthusiasm had meant the start of months of fruitless efforts to become pregnant. They had stopped counting the times that pregnancy tests had turned out negative. Although Karmen urged him not to worry about it, Colin couldn’t see it as anything other than a failure. His ambitious mind just could not cope with not meeting expectations. His desire for a baby, or the idea of a baby, had become so powerful that when their best friends notified them about their own pregnancy, he had resolutely shut down all contact with them.

The volume of the music in the restaurant, a pulsing beat and little else, was increased by a DJ that stood behind turntables on a stage high above the diners. Colin observed the young girl, enormous headphones decorating her head, seemingly absorbed by the beat. Karmen reached over the table and pressed her hand against his right cheek. He saw the small dimple in her chin. He also saw tiny wrinkles next to her blue eyes and miniscule lines above her upper lip, the results of years of spontaneous and infectious laughing. She was getting older. He forced the thought of his mind and noticed that it took him a bit more effort than the last time he did so. She smiled and leaned over the table to kiss him. Feeling her soft lips on his, he finally felt a bit more at ease. Perhaps he just worried too much. He could still taste the sweet scent of champagne on her lips when she continued putting kisses on his skin, following a confident path from his mouth to his ear. He heard her whisper:

We don’t need a fancy restaurant to celebrate Colin. Let’s go home.

When they arrived at their loft apartment, Colin started to open a bottle of red wine.

Leave that, his wife said while softly pushing him towards their bedroom. Just leave everything.

She made him sit on the bed and started to undress, keeping her eyes locked on his. When she was wearing only her wedding ring, Karmen broke the spell and closed his eyelids with the tips of her fingers. He breathed in deeply and could smell the scent of her perfume. With her hands on his shoulders, she picked her next words carefully: I want us to finally create life. Keeping his eyes closed, he reached out and gently took her breasts in his hands before moving the tips of his fingers around her belly, softly circling her navel. When his hands moved down, she asked him to undress.

With his last piece of clothing on the floor, forming a carpet of desire, she gently pushed him on the bed and draped her body over his. They found each other in one flow. Laying on top of him, her hands on his chest, her body took control. While increasing the speed of her movements, Karmen whispered, more to herself than to him:

This must be it.

Pearls of sweat formed all over his body and mixed with hers. He kept his hands firmly around her waist and with each rocking movement, her long blonde hair touched his chest.

Come, she whispered in his ear.

When they both did, he somehow knew that a new life had begun. As millions had started before and millions would be started after. A consciousness in the making, starting a new cycle, all over again.

The next morning, Colin sat on a chair at their kitchen table. The sun had risen and soft light penetrated through the branches of the tall oak trees in front of the high windows of the apartment. He didn’t notice the light. Neither did he notice the sounds of birds audible through the open window. He was fully focused on his phone, his shoulders tensed, checking his stock positions and bank accounts. It was the first thing he did every morning, usually after having woken up covered in sweat, his heart racing, fearing that his wealth might have suddenly evaporated.

On the other side of the kitchen, Karmen was preparing breakfast. Wearing only her nightgown, she used one hand to scramble eggs while the other rested on the kitchen counter. Without looking at him, she told her husband that she had dreamt about a baby girl. In the dream, she had known that their child would be special. She had even known what the girl’s name would be. Staring at the eggs, transforming from a fluid to a solid state, she softly pronounced it a couple of times, as if to test the sound.

Only then had Colin looked up from his phone. When they finally acknowledged each other, they both had a smile on their face. Karmen because she, deep in her heart, hoped that the arrival of a baby girl would get the best out of her husband and their relationship. He, because all of his wealth was still there. Even better, it had increased quite a bit that night on the back of an unexpected appreciation of the dollar. Before he left their apartment to get to work, he planted a soft kiss on his wife’s left cheek. God, she was beautiful, he thought. What would he be without her?

Separation

She has lost a significant amount of blood. We will keep her at the intensive care unit until we are able to stabilize her.

The gynecologist who had been present through the hours long ordeal looked as tired as Colin, although he could not possibly have felt his anxiety. Karmen’s water had broken during dinner with friends in SoHo. Just when they had toasted, raising flutes filled with champagne and one glass of orange juice filled with happy expectations, the contractions had started. She had immediately known that they were too painful. And with only eight months into the pregnancy, too early.

After rushing to Mount Sinai Children’s hospital through heavy Manhattan traffic, things had spiraled out of control. While Colin had been summoned out of a late night business meeting, his wife had collapsed in the emergency care department of the hospital. A pool of blood had spread rapidly from between her legs, causing other patients in the waiting room to gasp in shock. From that moment on, everything had started to resemble a movie playing in slow motion. While Colin was on his way, his wife had noticed the bright ceiling lights blurring her vision as she was rushed to an operating theater. Flurries of white cotton coats all around her, emotionless medical equipment and cold needles being injected into her body. The flashes of light had become a blur; the white coats an endless landscape of nothingness. Before losing consciousness, she had told the attending emergency staff that she felt an incredible feeling of bliss. She had also told them that she was sure that, whatever would happen from that moment on, her baby would not be hurt.

In the waiting room, separated from his wife with no clue about her wellbeing, Colin couldn’t stop his mind from spinning. He felt like his life was balancing on the brink between two worlds: One, in which his wife would come walking out the doors of the operating room, her long legs carrying her as they always had. Everything would remain the same. Permanent. The other world was a very different one. It was one in which he would be waking up, opening his eyes without being greeted by the smile of the only woman he had ever loved. Just thinking about it made him feel a gaping hole of emptiness. His head rested in his hands and he was vaguely aware of the noises around him. He tried to fight the perception that the room around him smelled like death. When his mind would wander to more peaceful realms for a few seconds, the plunge back to reality made his stomach convulse in such a powerful way that he could have thrown up.

Are you OK?

Colin shook himself out of his thoughts and saw a red-haired girl. Although she couldn’t possibly have been older than ten, her blue eyes seemed to convey a maturity far beyond her age. Colin saw her father sitting on the chair behind her, politely smiling at him. Shocked by the absurdity of her question—how could anything possibly be OK ever again?—his mouth tried to formulate a response.

Colin watched as the father of the girl suddenly stood up from his chair, his expression a mixture of hope and despair while he greeted the doctor that approached him. The couple was too far away for Colin to hear the words being spoken so he focused on the movements of lips instead. After a few sentences, the doctor stopped speaking. His eyes turned towards the floor as if to emphasize that there was nothing more to say. Colin watched as the father of the red-haired girl moved his right hand to his face and took of his glasses. Tears were visible in his eyes. Every sign of hope had evaporated. He turned around and looked at his daughter.

Where is mommy daddy? she blurted out.

The man took her in his arms and held her so tight that Colin thought he would never let her go again.

Mr. McLaughlan, would you come with me please?

Looking at the story his wrinkled face was telling, the physician seemed to have handled his fair share of births, deaths and every other life event that comes in between. Colin’s legs managed to lift him from the cheap plastic chair that had been supporting his worries for over two hours. He followed the man through a long corridor, designed without the slightest intention to make patients feel more comfortable. Keeping his eyes on the white coat in front of him, he tried to not expect anything, just to brace himself for the fall that would inevitably follow when his last bit of hope would be extinguished. But with each step, he knew he could not prepare himself. Despite their struggles, his attachment to Karmen was so strong, his need for her so all encompassing, that he knew he wouldn’t be able to trick himself into believing otherwise. The doctor guided him into a small room where a sofa was placed against a wall, under a National Geographic picture.

Please have a seat, he instructed, with the calm of a professional that had been through this hundreds of times.

Colin did as he was asked, his hands fidgeting with his shirt, not knowing where to look or how to behave.

Mr. McLaughlan, we were able to save your baby, her vital signs are stable and she is recovering.

Colin barely heard the sentence, waiting for the next one.

Unfortunately, I have to tell you that your wife lost too much blood. We were not able to resuscitate her. She passed away giving birth to your daughter.

With the verdict out, pushing him over the brink to a world he didn’t have the slightest intention of acknowledging, everything went black.

Three floors down, the body of his wife was laying still on a hospital bed, a blanket draped over her eyes, the temperature of her body rapidly decreasing. Three floors up, his daughter was sleeping in an incubator, a mouth searching for a nipple. Her breath tried to find the pace to match a completely new environment. Just minutes before, in a halfway place between the body of her mother and the world, the pressure on her tiny chest had become almost unbearable. She had felt her mother´s body squeeze around her in one last push, responding to the urgent request from the doctors. With this last effort, the pressure on her tiny body had disappeared and her lungs had filled with air. Her first uncontrolled breath had caused her eyes to open in shock. Coughing as her body had worked to clear the fluids from her mouth and throat, her senses had started to register an endless stream of new impulses. The bright lights of the operating theater had made a forceful impact on her eyes that, until then, had only ever experienced the soothing dark of her mothers’ womb. The noise