I’ve got the key in my hand again, and there’s still time. I manage to get it in the lock on the first try, turn it once, twice, press down the handle. The cool evening air rushes to meet me.
Then, a jolt. I’m torn backward with a force that pulls me down to the floor. The next moment, the door slams shut again with a loud thud.
I jump up, try to get past him, if he hasn’t locked it again I still have a chance, but he grabs my arms so tightly that I scream.
“Do you really want everyone to see you like this?” he yells. “Are you trying to get yourself committed?”
I struggle against him, with all my strength, but I have no chance. So I go slack and just let myself fall.
He wasn’t expecting that. I make him lose his balance, he almost falls onto me. At the last moment he turns to the side, without letting go of my wrists.
Only now do I realize I’m crying.
He sees it too. He lays his forehead against mine, his breathing fitful. “You need help, Jo.”
He’s damn right about that. And as soon as he lets me go …
“Look at me,” he demands. His voice sounds like he’s close to tears himself.
I do what he asks. Our faces are so close now, for a moment I’m afraid he’s going to kiss me.
“Let me go.”
He shakes his head. “Erik,” he blurts out. “My name is Erik.” He waits, as though he really thinks his name will mean something to me.
“Erik,” I repeat obediently, then feel his grip loosen a little, as though the name was some kind of password.
I wrench my hands away, pull myself up, try to push him away from me, but the very next moment the man’s weight pushes me back down to the floor again. His breath is hot in my face.
“Don’t do that, Jo. I just want to help you. And I will.”
His last word is underlined by a loud ringing. The doorbell. Someone’s at the door.
4
I jump, startled. Never has the doorbell seemed as loud to me as it does in this moment. Joanna stops struggling almost immediately, I feel her grow motionless beneath me.
There’s a flash of hope in her eyes that someone who’ll help her is outside the door. My thoughts tumble through my mind. We’re not expecting anyone.
Crazily enough, I feel guilty, and what’s more, a twinge of panic. Like I really am a burglar or a madman.
I push the thought from my mind; it’s ridiculous, after all. But I don’t want anyone to see Joanna in this state. Could she have called the police?
“Please! Please help me!” Joanna’s mouth is just a few inches away from my ear. Her screams leave a high-pitched, painful ringing in my head.
“Be quiet, damn it,” I hiss at her and resist the impulse of putting my hand over her mouth. In the same moment, I realize I’m going to have to act quickly if I don’t want the situation to escalate. I turn onto my side and release Joanna. She jumps up and is at the door, tears it open, and leaps outside, all before I’ve even managed to fully get to my feet. “Thank goodness,” she gasps. “I’ve been assaulted; this man broke into my house.”
My heart is pounding in my throat. The open door is obstructing my view. I take two steps to the side, then find myself face-to-face with Bernhard Morbach. He looks at me, surprised. Joanna is cowering behind him.
Bernhard is a department manager at Gabor Energy Engineering. He’s never been to my house, but the laptop bag hanging from his shoulder suggests the reason for this first-ever visit. Why now, of all times? Today at work was strange enough, not that I could describe exactly why. And if tomorrow Bernhard starts telling everyone about what he’s witnessing here …
“Erik…” Bernhard, clearly confused, turns around to face Joanna, who’s pulling her bathrobe together at the collar. He looks her up and down, then looks over at me. “I don’t understand. What’s going on here?”
Joanna’s eyes widen as she hears my name. I can tell she’s confused, see her taking a step back, and I realize what’s going to happen next. I have no choice. As she turns to run, I’ve already taken a couple of strides past Bernhard. I fling my arm around Joanna’s upper body from behind. “Jo, please,” I hiss at her as she tries to free herself from my grip. “You have to come back inside.”
“No way! You’re conspiring together, the two of you. Let me go.” Joanna’s rib cage expands as she takes a deep breath, but I press my hand over her mouth before she can scream. I take a quick look around and note Bernhard’s incredulous expression, but now isn’t the time for long-winded explanations.
“Come on,” I pant, and drag Joanna, twisting and turning and kicking at me, back into the house, using all the strength I have. She tries to bite my hand, but I don’t let go.
Finally I make it into the hall. Bernhard, to my surprise, actually follows us into the house. I let Joanna go, rush to the door, and slam it shut. Moving quickly, I turn the key and remove it from the lock, while somewhere behind me another door is slammed shut with a dull thud. I slowly turn around and take a deep breath.
“She … she went in there,” Bernhard stutters, pointing toward the kitchen. “Can you tell me what’s going on? I mean … that is the Joanna you’ve told us about, isn’t it?”
I indicate to him that he needs to wait.
The kitchen is empty. Either Joanna ran into the living room or she’s hiding in the pantry. A few steps and I’m at the door. I reach for the handle. It’s locked. So Joanna, in all her confusion, went and hid in the only room on the ground floor that doesn’t have any windows.
I turn away from the door and walk back to Bernhard, who’s nervously pacing up and down the hall.
“She’s locked herself in the pantry,” I start to explain. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Jo’s all over the place. She doesn’t recognize me anymore, not since I got home tonight. I don’t want anyone to see her like this, so…” I hesitate, thinking that this attempt at an explanation must seem strange to Bernhard. He stands there and looks at me, perplexed.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry that this is how you’re getting to meet Jo. She’s not normally like this. I don’t get it either. You know she’s Australian, right, and she’s meant to be going back soon, but she doesn’t want to because we … And I really want her to stay as well. But if anyone sees her in this state, they’ll think she’s crazy. Then everything will get a lot more complicated, you see? That’s why I held … That’s why I don’t want her running around outside and screaming.”
Bernhard finally takes his bag off his shoulder and sets it down against the wall next to him. “I see…” But his face says the exact opposite. “Has she ever been like this before?”
“No. I’ve never seen her like this.” I look over toward the kitchen. From where I’m standing, I can see a narrow section of the door to the storeroom. What’s Joanna doing in there now? What’s going on inside her head? Is she sitting on the floor, trembling in fright, thinking about how she can escape the madman who’s invaded her house and who claims to be living with her?
I turn away and swiftly wipe my eyes before I look at Bernhard again. “Everything was perfectly all right this morning. She was in a good mood when I set off for work. Something must have happened during the day, something that triggered this … confusion. I hope it’ll sort itself out again, otherwise I don’t know what I’m going to do.” I pull myself together; those kinds of thoughts aren’t going to help anyone right now. My eyes wander over the laptop bag on the floor. I nod toward it. “Is that the reason you stopped by?”
“What? Oh yeah, it is. I’m flying to London tomorrow morning, but I can’t find the presentation that one of your guys transferred over to my laptop from my desktop this afternoon.” He pauses and quickly looks over at the kitchen. “But I can see now isn’t really a good time, I’ll go see if Alex can help.”
He’s right, it’s definitely not a good time, but there’s no way I’m having Alex find out about what’s happening at my house as well. So I say, “Oh, nonsense,�
�� and point toward the living room. “Come on, let’s take a look.”
We’re both sitting on the sofa as I turn on the computer. Bernhard is eyeing the screen with interest, pretending the system messages that appear as the device starts up mean something to him.
“What are you going to be doing in London anyway?” I ask, to pass the time.
Bernhard hesitates. “Ah, it’s because of that new project. You heard about it, right?” He lowers his gaze.
“Oh. That. Yeah, I did hear that it’s coming up soon. But only by chance. As I’m sure you know.” My anger from that time is flaring up inside me again.
The whole thing is visibly unpleasant for Bernhard. While I try to focus on the laptop again, his gaze wanders toward the kitchen. He’s looking for a way to change the subject.
“Not that it’s any of my business, but as I’ve just witnessed this … situation, it made me think of an acquaintance of mine. Something very similar happened with her once. It all passed really quickly, but at the time it was happening she no longer recognized anyone. It’s just that she got very aggressive too, with herself and other people. Awful, really. Is it the same with Joanna? I mean … you said she doesn’t recognize you anymore all of a sudden. But did she attack you?”
I find his question bizarre, but then I guess bizarre situations entail bizarre questions. And the things Bernhard’s witnessed since he arrived at our front door would probably prompt such a line of inquiry. Also, the whole thing with the new project is clearly uncomfortable for him. At the end of the day, I guess I should be relieved he reacted the way he did instead of just leaving before I had the opportunity to explain.
“She threw something at me, but that was understandable in a way, because she was afraid. I mean, she does seem to think I’m a stranger who broke into her house. There wasn’t anything else, but that’s enough for me.”
Bernhard nods. “Well, then it’s different to my acquaintance anyway. Who knows, maybe she’ll be all better again in the morning?”
“Yes, I really hope so.” I realize I’m staring at the laptop screen and not seeing anything.
Still, it doesn’t take me long to find the presentation we’re looking for in the recycle bin. Somebody deleted it. Probably Bernhard himself, but if I tell him that, he’s going to categorically deny it. Just like all computer users do when they’ve made a mess of things. Besides, I’ll be relieved when he’s gone again and I can focus on Joanna.
I restore the file and open it. “Is this the presentation?”
Bernhard clicks here and there a few times, then nods, relieved. “Yes, it is. Thank goodness. Where was it?”
“There’s no way you could have found it,” I say, sidestepping the question.
I close the laptop and get up. Bernhard hesitates for a moment longer. “Listen, is there any way I can help? I mean, if there’s anything I can do for you and Joanna…”
“No, thanks. I’m going to go have a quiet chat with her. And I’m sure she’ll be feeling better soon. She has a lot of office visits and paperwork looming; maybe she’s just stressed.”
I hope Bernhard can’t hear in my voice just how unconvinced even I am by what I just said. He packs his laptop away into his bag and gets up.
“All right then. If I was you, I’d think twice about coming into the office tomorrow morning.”
I hadn’t even thought that far ahead yet. What if Joanna’s state hasn’t gotten any better by tomorrow morning? What if she still believes I’m some crazy stranger who broke into her house?
“We’ll see. But I think it will be all right.”
I accompany him to the door. He stops in the hall, his eyes fixed on the passage through to the kitchen. “Should I maybe try to talk to her? If I assure her she really is living here with you, maybe she’ll believe you?”
He means well, but I don’t want anyone she doesn’t know—genuinely doesn’t know, that is—talking to her in this situation. Besides, she did just make it plain that she thinks we’re both in cahoots. No, if there’s anyone who can manage to recover Joanna’s memories of us, then it’s me.
“Thanks, that’s very kind of you, but I think it’s better if I talk to her.”
He shrugs and turns toward the door. “All right then. So good luck and … well … all the best.”
“Thanks.”
I wait until he’s walked a few steps, then I go back into the house. I stand at the entrance to the kitchen for a while and stare at the pantry door. I can’t hear anything. Joanna’s probably sitting on the floor and listening just as intently. My Joanna.
I approach the door and raise my hand. Hesitate. Then, finally, I knock carefully.
“Jo?” I say, so quietly that she probably can’t even hear me. I clear my throat and try again, louder this time. “Jo? Please, I have to talk to you.”
5
It’s dark, and the light switch is outside. Outside the closed door. That’s where the voices are coming from too. The voice of the man who says his name is Erik, and that of the other man, who just stood by and watched as I was pulled forcibly back into the house by his pal.
They’re talking, but not very loudly. I wait to hear a laugh, conspiratorial and in unison, but it doesn’t come. Their muffled voices sound serious.
It’s cramped in here. Packed full. My right hand brushes against a familiar shape, hard and round. A tin can, probably tinned tomatoes. Good. It’s a suitable enough weapon, and feels comforting in my hands.
For a while, I try to make out at least some snippets of their conversation, but eventually I give up.
Erik. The man with the bag over his shoulder had used his name so naturally. And he hadn’t been surprised to see the stranger in my house, not even for a second—if anything, it was me who had surprised him. Me and the way I was acting.
That means that this … Erik guy must have dished up the same insane story to him as he did to me. That he lives here, and that he’s in a relationship with me.
So maybe he’s not an accomplice after all? I don’t know. None of my thoughts seem logical anymore. My head is pounding; I vaguely remember hitting it on the floor earlier during my failed escape attempt.
But at least I can still remember where I store the bottles of mineral water. Rehydrating helps, and my headache gradually dissipates.
A short while later, I hear the front door click into the lock. The man with the bag has gone, I’m guessing, and he won’t be lifting a finger to help me.
I huddle into my corner. Any moment now the reprieve will be over and the game will continue. Even though I’m waiting for Erik’s next move, the sudden knock on the door still makes my heart skip a beat.
“Jo?” His voice is quiet and insistent. “Jo? Please, I have to talk to you.”
That approach again. This time he won’t get any answer from me. Stay silent, I tell myself. Play dead.
“Jo? Can you hear me?” More knocking. “Are you OK? Is everything all right?”
And if it’s not? What will you do then, asshole?
I don’t have to wait long for an answer. I hear a clinking sound; the man is probably rummaging through the kitchen drawer. A brief silence, then the sound, very close now, of metal against metal.
He’s found something to break open the door with.
“I’m OK.” My voice is hoarse with reluctance, but it’s still enough to stop Erik from working on the lock.
“Thank God,” he says. “Listen, I’m sorry I was so rough with you before, but…” He pauses.
Rage suddenly surges up within me; it’s so overwhelming that it completely drowns out my fear. Suddenly I’m almost wishing for the lunatic out there to really break down the door so I can throw myself at him with all my strength. Beat him with my fists until he’s no longer moving. Or stab him, if I can get my hands on the big kitchen knife.…
The image is so vivid in my mind it takes on a life of its own, and I’m shocked by how much I like it. I didn’t know that helplessness and violent compulsi
ons could be so closely interlinked.
So far, though, physical resistance hadn’t helped me. On the contrary. It was time to change my strategy.
“Erik?” I make my voice sound as though I’m close to tears.
“Yes?”
“Could you turn on the light for me? Please?”
“What? Yes, of course. I didn’t realize you were sitting there in the dark.”
The eco-lightbulb under the cheap frosted-glass ceiling lamp flickers on, bathing the packed shelves in a dim light.
The can in my hand really does contain peeled tomatoes.
“Better?”
“Much better. Thank you.”
There’s a short pause. When the man outside the door starts speaking again, his voice is on the same level as my head. He must be sitting on the floor. Or kneeling.
“Listen to me, Jo. We won’t be able to figure this out by ourselves, we need help.” He sounds exhausted. That’s good. Eventually he’ll need to sleep.
“I’d like to take you to a doctor in the morning, so we can find out what happened. Maybe the stress of the past few weeks was too much for you, or…”
He left the sentence unfinished.
“To a doctor?” I ask quietly.
“Yes, Jo. Before it gets even worse. If I hadn’t stopped you tonight, you would have run out into the street screaming and half-naked, on two separate occasions. I don’t want them to institutionalize you, I mean, our situation is hard enough as it is.”
His tone is imploring and gentle at the same time, but I’m fully aware of the intention behind his words. He wants me to doubt my own state of mind, not his.
“You can’t imagine how much all this is hurting me,” he continues. “Yesterday you were telling me you love me, and today you don’t even remember who I am.”
His voice was becoming quieter and quieter. Either he really believes what he’s saying, or he’s a really good actor.
“Jo?”
“Yes?”
“I love you, and it’s awful to have to do this, but I can’t let you out of here tonight. I can’t risk you screaming for help out the window, or trying to run away again.”
Strangers Page 3
