Strangers: A Novel(42)

My favorite mug, the foamed milk almost spilling over the edge. Ham, a little plate of cheese—everything the way I like it. Is it possible that he does know me after all?

He has barely set the plates on the table when the doorbell rings. My heartbeat quickens at once. Damn, is every noise going to throw me off like this?

“Maybe it’s the mailman,” says Erik with a sigh. “But whoever it is, I’ll get rid of them. Dig in, otherwise it’ll get cold.”

I nod, lifting the first forkful to my mouth, but let it sink again as soon as Erik leaves the kitchen.

What if it’s that psychologist again?

“Good morning!” A woman’s voice. “Yes I know, this is a bit of a surprise, but I thought I’d check on you both. I’ve brought rolls. And croissants!”

A few seconds pass before Erik says something. “Listen, I thought I’d made myself clear.”

“You did. You guys aren’t doing too well, that was quite clear. And that’s why…”

The sound of heels clicking on the floorboards. “Hey, that smells delicious.”

She is already standing in the kitchen doorway. Dark curls, short skirt, high heels and an almost aggressive cheerfulness. She gives me a beaming smile, teeters over to me, and stretches out her hand. “You must be Joanna, right? I say we go straight to first-name terms. After all, you guys in Australia are quite informal, aren’t you? It’s lovely to finally meet you!”

I let her shake my hand, completely overwhelmed in the face of so much energy. I notice how her gaze hovers over the right side of my face and then, as if I’d caught her in the act, glides away again.

Erik appears behind her, with the rolls she brought in his hand. “Jo, this is Nadine.”

He says her name like it should mean something to me, until my expression makes it clear to him that it doesn’t. “She’s a colleague. And—”

“We used to be an item,” Nadine interrupts. “But I’m sure you know that.” She turns to look at Erik over her shoulder. “Would you be a darling and make me a coffee too? That would be great, thank you.”

Just one glance at Erik’s face is enough to tell me that he wants to end this visit as soon as possible, but without the same means he used with Bartsch yesterday.

“Milk?” He asks. “Sugar?”

Her smile widens. “Come on, you know exactly how I like it.”

It sounds like she means something completely different. If my problems weren’t overshadowing everything else, including my vanity, then I’d be wondering about the contrast between Nadine and myself, in terms of our appearances. She’s obviously made an effort; her makeup is perfect, her blouse and skirt fit her so well it looked like she’d been poured into them.

Quite a lot of effort just to bring some breakfast to a good friend on a Saturday morning.

And it certainly couldn’t be said that I’d made an effort. A washed-out T-shirt and an old pair of track pants, along with the bruises on my face—I look as though Erik had picked me up off the street.

But I don’t care, as I realize with some amusement. The only thing that matters right now is that I’m able to look at the doorframe without feeling the need to ram my head against it.

Erik puts a full cup of coffee down in front of Nadine, a little too forcefully; a few drops slosh over the edge.

We all act as though we didn’t notice. “It’s great that you two have made up,” Nadine says, beaming at me. “Erik hates arguments.” She sips at her coffee, which is the same color as her hair. “I was really worried, he sounded so distraught last night.”

“Nadine!” A single word, but it contained both a warning and a great deal of repulsion.

“What?” She turns around to him, crossing her legs. “But it’s true. You didn’t call me just to say hello.”

He called her? Talked about me with someone who is a complete stranger to me, poured his heart out to her? Described my insane behavior to her, even? I clench my teeth and avoid Erik’s gaze, but at the same time tell myself how silly it is to be so sensitive. It shouldn’t bother me in the slightest what his tarted-up ex thinks of me. He needed someone to talk to yesterday. And it’s not like I don’t understand that; after all, I could do with someone to talk to myself.

When I look up again, Erik is shaking his head silently. Apologetically. “I’d prefer it if you just go now,” he says, looking at Nadine. “Thank you for the rolls. But we’d really prefer to be alone.”

She nods, smiles. Puts on an expression of understanding. “Can I finish my coffee first?”

“If you must.”

Now, as she looks at Erik, she looks genuinely hurt. “Your tone was completely different yesterday. But I understand why my being here is uncomfortable for you.” Now she’s openly staring at the right side of my face.

I almost grin. “You’re wrong.”

She understood exactly what I mean, but she feigns innocence. “Wrong about what?”

“That my injuries have something to do with Erik. That is what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”

She hesitates only briefly. “It all adds up though, doesn’t it? He calls me, completely beside himself, and when I try to check up on you the next day…” She makes a vague hand movement in my direction. “Erik was never violent when he was with me,” she adds more quietly.