Strangers: A Novel(36)

I have to yell again all of a sudden. I don’t want to. I have to.

“And now you’re standing there and whining about a breach of trust?” I shout so loudly that my voice cracks. I’ve unwittingly started shaking Joanna hard, much too hard. At the very same moment I realize that, it’s all over. The anger, the screaming, the shaking. My arms slump by my sides. No more strength. No energy. Nothing.

Joanna’s crying. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, rubbing her arms where I’d grabbed her. I can see redness. Without looking at me, she keeps backing away until she bumps into the wall. She slides down it, as if in slow motion, and slumps down onto the floor with her legs tucked in. She stares past me.

I did this.

The love of my life is sitting there on the floor in front of me. A pitiful sight. Totally overwhelmed by my yelling. Handled far too roughly. Hurt in every sense.

My rage still hasn’t dissipated completely, but I’m starting to realize that I went too far. I squat down in front of her, put a hand on her arm. “Jo, please … I didn’t mean to…”

She shakes off my hand with a sharp jerk.

“I didn’t mean to get carried away like that,” I try again. “I’m sorry, Jo, please…”

“No!” She shifts over, pushes herself up, then takes a few steps to create distance between us. “Go away.”

I get up angrily.

“You want me to go? Fine, if that’s what you want.”

I turn around, open the door. A cool wind hits me. The door clicks shut behind me. Not loudly, though, I realize. I didn’t slam it shut. Only let go of it. I’ve got no strength left.

The driveway, the street.

I just walk. Mechanically, with no purpose, no destination, just for the sake of walking.

The tips of my shoes appear alternately beneath me like big brown bugs. I observe their race. Every second, the one in the lead changes.

Two streets on I sit down onto a waist-high garden wall. I reflect for a moment. What have I done? I screamed at the woman I love. Said terrible things to her, physically hurt her, even. Completely lost control.

While she’s probably just sick and none of what’s happened is her fault.

How did I end up losing my temper so badly? With her, of all people? Has something like this ever happened to me before? No, I don’t think so.

Instead of supporting Joanna in this difficult situation, I completely lost it. Without any sense of compassion or responsibility.

I’m ashamed of myself.

I need to go apologize to her. But first I have to give myself time to recharge my batteries. To think. About her, about me. About the things happening around us. Gabor, Bartsch, Bernhard.

I feel like I’m stumbling across a field full of smoldering fires. And I don’t know which one to put out first. Or if I can put any of them out at all.

I’m cold. I stand back up, keep walking, and rub my arms. I should have worn a jacket.

After a few feet I turn into a small side street. We’ve been living here for a few months now, but I’ve never been in this street, even though it’s only about three hundred feet away from our house.

Thus far we hadn’t really paid much attention to the neighborhood we’d moved into. We were just busy with ourselves, so fixated on each other that the two of us were enough. We didn’t need anyone else; why would we? They would just have disturbed our intimacy.

It’s only now I notice that I’m crying, and I don’t care. I don’t even attempt to wipe away the tears. To hide them. Let everyone see; they don’t know me anyway. I’ve never been here. And even if someone does recognize me, who cares? Maybe we won’t be living here much longer anyway. Maybe …

I stop walking. Is she still there in the same place in the hall, staring at the wall, I wonder?

Or maybe she isn’t even in the house anymore? Did the way I acted confirm her belief that I’m not the person I say I am?

I couldn’t blame her for that. No, in fact I could even understand it. Would someone who loves her as much as I claim to act like this? Screaming, grabbing hold of her, raging, and taking off when she’s at her most helpless?

I have to go back. Right now. Maybe she’s still there. Maybe, in spite of everything, she’ll believe I really am the person I say I am.

My steps speed up; I start to jog. I turn into our street, running now, as fast as I can. Every second counts all of a sudden. A few more feet, then I slow down. Stand still.

Go away.

Joanna wanted me to go. She shoved me away when I tried to apologize to her.

I listen to my thoughts, feel how stirred up I still am.

What if she shoves me away again? Then how would I react?

After what just happened, I can’t know for sure. Am I capable of seriously hurting her if what she says and does makes me as angry as before? Or angrier, even?

No, I can’t go back to her.

Not yet.





17

The door falls into the lock again, but gently this time. As though it were a counterpoint to the scene that just took place. Erik is gone, and I sink slowly, very slowly, down the wall and back down to the floor.

I should be happy now. After all, he yelled at me, shook me, called me crazy. Since the first time I encountered him, all I have wanted is to be rid of him. Now he’s gone, and something within me is balking at the idea.