Strangers: A Novel(12)

He looks at me, searchingly. He raises his hand as though he wants to stroke my face, but stops midmovement and grasps my arm again. “As soon as we know what’s wrong with you, you’ll get your phone and anything else you want. I promise.”

In other words, after Dr. Dussmann has played his intended role. This is just what I’d expected. “You’re probably right,” I say. “OK.”

He leads me outside, as if he’s afraid I could fall. There’s a silver Audi parked in the driveway next to my used VW Golf, one of those limousine-like cars that manager types drive. Shiny and immaculate, without even the hint of a mud stain on the fenders.

I can’t help but grin. Anyone who didn’t know better would guess that Erik was the more affluent of the two of us.

He opens the passenger door for me and waits until I’ve put on my seat belt before closing it again. Five seconds later, he sits down next to me and starts the engine.

“We’ll sort this out,” he says. “You’ll see.”





6

I steer the car out of the driveway and turn right. For a brief moment, I look over at Joanna, who’s giving me a slightly tense smile. Her hands are on her chest, holding the safety belt like she was afraid it might squeeze the air from her lungs.

Just before we turn into the next street, I glance into the rearview mirror and see a man standing in the entrance to our driveway. He’s looking in our direction. Is he watching us? Nonsense. I’d better make sure I don’t start getting paranoid too.

Houses pass by us on both sides, with cars parked in front. Here and there, different campaign posters for the upcoming elections. Garbage bins, already set out on the curb by overzealous neighbors even though collection day isn’t until tomorrow. Life as always in our street. Normal.

Deceptive.

My thoughts wander. I called into work and took a day off. If there aren’t any IT projects in the critical phase it’s usually not a problem.

Thank goodness Bernhard is in London. I hope he doesn’t call anyone at work and let slip about what he saw at our place last night.

If he does, well, there’s nothing I can do about it. Joanna said that she remembered me, and at first I was so relieved that I believed her without a moment’s hesitation. I willingly clung to her words, because I simply didn’t want to accept that Joanna, my Joanna, might suddenly have developed a psychological problem.

Now, though, I’m not so sure anymore. She had a good few hours in the storeroom to think everything through. Maybe she invented having remembered something about me just to placate me.

But at least she’s willing to go see Dr. Dussmann with me. I’ve never been to see him myself, but he was an acquaintance of my parents. The last time I saw him was at my father’s funeral, two and a half years ago. The fact that we’re loosely acquainted at least gives me hope he’ll take Joanna’s problem seriously and not just commit her to a clinic.

“How well do you know this … doctor?” Joanna threads her way into my thoughts so smoothly that it’s almost like I’d spoken them out loud. I shrug. “Only vaguely. He knew my parents.”

I look over at her, see her raise an eyebrow. “Knew?”

“Yes, knew. My parents are dead.” I only just manage to suppress the impulse to snap at Joanna, to hurl my words at her. You know that very damn well. Cancer. First my mother, then my father three years later. I told you, right down to the tiniest little detail.

Surely she can’t just have forgotten all that.

The expression on her face tells me otherwise.

The traffic light we’re approaching skips to red. I stop, and feel Joanna’s eyes on me. Look over at her. Why is it right now, in this bizarre situation, that it strikes me just how incredibly beautiful she is?

“Erik … If you really believe what you told me…”

She pauses, as though she’s not sure she can dare say what she wants to say. But then she comes out with it after all. “Did the thought ever occur to you that you might be mistaken?”

I don’t understand what she means. “Mistaken?”

She nods tentatively. “Yes. You’re claiming something’s wrong with me. That I’ve forgotten you.”

“Which you certainly seem to have done.”

“That’s what you’re saying. But maybe it’s you who’s imagining that you know me and that you live in my home?”

“What? You think…” I believe I understand what’s happening right now. Her mind is feverishly looking for an explanation that would confirm that nothing’s wrong with her. Wouldn’t I do the same if it were me? But still … “I used my key to get into the house. You have to admit…”

“It could be a copy.”

“But how do you explain me knowing my way around the house so well? And Bernhard. How come he turned up on your doorstep if it’s me he wanted to see? I know for an absolute fact that we live together, Jo.”

“But that doesn’t prove it. Think about it! If that’s the case, shouldn’t some of your stuff be in the house? Clothes? Furniture? Your bedding? Something?”

Yeah, I haven’t found an explanation for that yet either. “I don’t know either why—” The angry blaring of a car horn interrupts me. The traffic light. I shift into gear and start driving.