The Silent Patient(56)

I couldn’t get Alcestis’s death and resurrection out of my mind—I kept thinking about it as we walked back across the bridge to the station. Jean-Felix asked if I wanted to have another drink, but I said I was tired. There was another awkward pause. We stood outside the entrance to the station. I thanked him for the evening and said it had been fun.

“Just have one more drink,” Jean-Felix said. “One more. For old times’ sake?”

“No, I should go.”

I tried to leave—and he grabbed my hand.

“Alicia,” he said. “Listen to me. I need to tell you something.”

“No, please don’t, there’s nothing to say, really—”

“Just listen. It’s not what you think.”

And he was right, it wasn’t. I was expecting Jean-Felix to plead for our friendship, or try to make me feel guilty for leaving the gallery. But what he said took me totally by surprise.

“You need to be careful,” he said. “You’re way too trusting. The people around you … you trust them. Don’t. Don’t trust them.”

I stared at him blankly. It took me a second to speak.

“What are you talking about? Who do you mean?”

Jean-Felix just shook his head and didn’t say anything. He let go of my hand and walked off. I called after him but he didn’t stop.

“Jean-Felix. Stop.”

He didn’t look back. I watched him disappear around the corner. I stood there, rooted to the spot. I didn’t know what to think. What was he doing making a mysterious warning and then walking off like that? I guess he wanted to get the upper hand and leave me feeling unsure and wrong-footed. And he succeeded.

He also left me feeling angry. Now, in a way, he’s made it easy for me. Now I’m determined to cut him out of my life. What did he mean about “people around me”—presumably that means Gabriel? But why?

No. I’m not doing this. This is exactly what Jean-Felix wanted—to fuck with my head. Get me obsessing about him. Come between me and Gabriel.

I won’t fall for it. I won’t give it another thought.

I went back home, and Gabriel was in bed, asleep. He had a five a.m. call for a shoot. But I woke him up, and we had sex. I couldn’t get close enough to him or feel him deeply enough in me. I wanted to be fused with him. I wanted to climb inside him and disappear.


AUGUST 11

I saw that man again. He was a bit farther away this time—he was sitting on a bench farther into the park. But it was him, I could tell—most people are wearing shorts and T-shirts and light colors in this weather, and he was wearing a dark shirt and trousers, black sunglasses, and cap. His head was angled toward the house, looking at it.

I had a funny thought—maybe he’s not a burglar, perhaps he’s a painter. Perhaps he’s a painter like me and he’s thinking about painting the street—or the house. But as soon as I thought this, I knew it wasn’t true. If he were really going to paint the house, he wouldn’t just be sitting there—he’d be making sketches.

I got myself into a state about it and I phoned Gabriel. That was a mistake. I could tell he was busy—the last he needed was me calling, freaking out because I think someone is watching the house.

Of course, I’m only assuming the man is watching the house.

He could be watching me.


AUGUST 13

He was there again.

It was soon after Gabriel left this morning. I had a shower and saw him out the bathroom window. He was closer this time. He was standing outside the bus stop. Like he was casually waiting for the bus.

I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling.

I got dressed quickly and went into the kitchen to have a better look. But he was gone.

I decided to tell Gabriel about it when he got home. I thought he’d brush it off, but he took it seriously. He seemed quite worried.

“Is it Jean-Felix?” he said straightaway.

“No, of course not. How can you even think that?”

I tried to sound surprised and indignant. But in truth I had wondered that too. The man and Jean-Felix are the same build. It could be Jean-Felix, but even so—I just don’t want to believe it. He wouldn’t try and frighten me like that. Would he?

“What’s Jean-Felix’s number?” Gabriel said. “I’m calling him right now.”

“Darling, don’t, please. I’m sure it’s not him.”

“Positive?”

“Absolutely. Nothing happened. I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal out of it. It’s nothing.”

“How long was he there for?”

“Not long—an hour or so—and then he vanished.”

“What do you mean, vanished?”

“He just disappeared.”

“Uh-huh. Is there any chance you could be imagining this?”

Something about the way he said that annoyed me. “I’m not imagining it. I need you to believe me.”

“I do believe you.”

But I could tell he didn’t totally believe me. He only partly believed me. Part of him was just humoring me. Which makes me angry, if I’m honest. So angry I have to stop here—or I might write something I’ll regret.


AUGUST 14

I jumped out of bed as soon as I woke up. I checked the window, hoping the man would be there again—so Gabriel could see him too—but there was no sign of him. So I felt even more stupid.