Strangers: A Novel(20)
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” The doctor presses the tips of her fingers together and smiles at me. “We’ll need to give you a thorough examination, of course, but believe me, there are other explanations for the symptoms you’ve described.”
She pauses and looks at me thoughtfully. “Systematic amnesia, for example. In other words, memory loss that is restricted to specific areas. In some circumstances, specific people.” Seeing that I’m about to question her, she raises her hand to stop me. “That doesn’t mean that this diagnosis applies to you. It’s just another possibility. To start with, we need to rule out all physical causes.” She pulls her calendar toward her and flicks through it. “I can fit you in for an EEG appointment here in the practice on Thursday, and I’ll also refer you to the clinic for a CT scan.” Probably noticing that I flinched in response to her words, she quickly continues. “Even though I don’t really believe your problem has a physical cause.”
Systematic amnesia. Memory loss, for no apparent reason? I inquire, and Schattauer shakes her head. “There’s always a cause. A very stressful event, some trauma that is connected to the thing or person in question.”
My mouth is so dry that I need two attempts to form my question. “Meaning that I’ve suppressed my memory of Erik … because he traumatized me? Abused me?”
Dr. Schattauer shakes her head emphatically. “No, it doesn’t mean that. It’s just one of many possibilities that we should consider. I’d really like to help you, if you’d allow me to.”
This thought that my mind has blocked out Erik to protect itself from the memory of something terrible suddenly seems more plausible to me than any other explanation. Then Ela’s behavior would make sense. Erik’s, too, come to think of it. The way he looks at me, then averts his gaze, the way he’s trying to look after me … it could be down to a guilty conscience. And then there are those fleeting moments where it seems he’s struggling to control himself …
“Is the EEG appointment on Thursday OK for you?” asks Dr. Schattauer, interrupting my train of thought.
“Yes. Yes of course.” I shake her hand and leave the office. Only Erik is waiting there, he jumps up when he sees me.
“Ela went home. She was absolutely exhausted, so I told her she could go. She’ll call this afternoon.”
There it is again, that searching, testing gaze. Guilt? It was entirely possible.
“Did your talk with the doctor go well?”
I smile, or at least something close to it. I show my teeth, in any case. “Oh yes. It certainly was.”
Dr. Schattauer has followed me out, and positions herself between Erik and me. She looks him up and down before turning to me. “If you like, I can arrange for you to stay in a private clinic for the next few days. You’d have some peace there, and you’d be looked after. Maybe that could help.”
Half an hour ago I would have seriously considered the offer. But now I shake my head. “No, I want to go home. And you have all my details, my address and everything?”
“Yes, of course.” The doctor’s questioning glance tells me that she hasn’t understood what I’m getting at yet.
“His too?” I gesture toward Erik, whose surprise at my decision is written all over his face.
“Yes. He even provided his ID.”
Ah. Very thorough. So Dr. Schattauer and her receptionist know more about him than I do. His surname, for example. And his address?
I’ve already taken a step toward the reception area, wanting to take a look at the notes, but Erik steps into my path. He has his wallet in his hand, and pulls out his driver’s license. He hands it to me silently.
Erik Fabian Thieben. The photo shows a younger version of the man who is standing in front of me, but it’s unmistakably him. In it, his hair almost reaches down to his shoulders; his smile is easy and open and framed by stubble.
There’s no address on the driver’s license, of course. Maybe I should ask him for his car registration.
I hand him back the document. “Thank you.”
“You’re really coming home with me?” he asks softly as he opens the clinic door for me. “Voluntarily?”
“Yes.” Even I can hear the hostile undertone in my voice.
If there’s any truth to the theory of trauma-provoked amnesia, I’ll be able to get to the bottom of it quicker in Erik’s presence. I doubt that he’ll dare lay a finger on me at the moment with the way things are.
If this trauma really exists, then I’ll have to remember it sooner or later. And if I should find out that Erik was the one who caused it, then God have mercy on him.
10
We leave the building, walking next to each other in silence. There’s a lot I want to tell Joanna, and even more that I want to ask her. Like what exactly she told Dr. Schattauer, for instance, and how the doctor reacted. But I don’t dare say anything just now. The fact that Joanna is prepared to come home with me seems like a new, frail bond between us, one so delicate that a single ill-judged word might tear it apart. I’m not going to risk that. We’ve almost reached the car. I click the car remote, open the passenger door and stand next to it. Joanna’s gaze wanders from the door to my face, then her eyes fixate on mine. “Still scared I’m going to run away?”