Strangers: A Novel(54)

And before that, I want to see Erik one more time. Apologize to him and make sure he’s doing as well as can be expected.

There’s just one problem: I don’t know where he is.

I must have fallen asleep again, because when I next open my eyes it’s already light outside, and I’m no longer sitting, but lying slumped on the couch, the pillow pressed against me like a talisman. I can smell coffee.

Shortly after, Ela comes in and puts a tray down on the table. A basket of bread, marmalade, butter, and a little bit of cheese.

The memory of yesterday’s breakfast comes back to me against my will. Of Nadine’s surprise visit and the way Erik stood behind me. Without any hesitation.

And of the kiss afterward. And the wonderful afternoon that followed.

And then …

Every step I take to Ela’s breakfast table is unbelievably arduous. The thought of eating is almost unbearable, but the coffee helps. Black, hot, strong.

“Are you taking me home?”

She looks at me, aghast. “I thought we were driving you to the clinic. Yesterday you even said yourself that it was the only right thing to do!”

Her abruptness makes me feel defensive and contradictory. “Yes. I did. And I still think so, it’s just that I’d like to pack my things in peace today, make a few calls. I’ll go to the psychiatric clinic tomorrow, and by then hopefully I’ll know which one as well.”

Ela stirs her coffee, a little too forcefully. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. At the moment you’re feeling relatively OK, right? But that could change very quickly if you’re confronted with the place where it happened so soon after…”

It sounds like an excuse. She avoids eye contact, confirming my suspicion.

“It’s because of Erik, isn’t it? He doesn’t want me to come home; he doesn’t want to see me.”

Ela denies it at first, but when I persist, she eventually shrugs. “And can you blame him? Do you know what he’s gone through this past week? He’s in a really bad way, Jo, and he needs to get his feet back on solid ground again.” She gives me a warning look. “Without you crossing his path, knife or no knife.”

Hopping yellow smiley faces grin up at me from my coffee cup. If it didn’t belong to Ela, I’d smash the thing. What are a few more broken shards in my life right now, after all? “He called you?”

“No. But I’ve known him longer than you have.” She takes a sip of coffee and reaches for the sugar. “Is it so hard to believe that he might want to have some peace if he’s discharged today? Not another confrontation with the woman who went from loving him to no longer recognizing him, then let him come close again, only to almost stab him to death.”

I lower my gaze to the stupid smilies.

“If you need some things from the house, I can get them for you. And you can make your calls from here; I’ll give you all the privacy you need.”

I agree to everything, acquiesce completely to what she says, finish my coffee, and then curl up on the couch again. I pretend to be asleep. Ela’s phone rings three or four more times during the morning, and each time she goes out of the room to talk. Is she talking to Erik? I’m longing to ask her, but don’t dare to. I sit on the sofa until just before two o’clock, then I can no longer bear it.

I shower, change, throw everything into the small travel bag. I call a taxi from the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, Ela. I’ll tell Erik you did your best. But I have to see him and apologize before I go into the clinic.”

She shakes her head, but doesn’t try to stop me. She’ll probably call Erik as soon as I leave.

The closer the cheerful taxi driver brings me to my destination, the more nervous I become. Do I really want to see Erik? What’s the point of apologizing for something that’s inexcusable? No matter what I do, it’s not going to undo what happened.

It’s the fear of being rejected, of the repulsion in his eyes; I realize that shortly before we turn onto my street. I’m afraid of seeing my feelings toward myself reflected in his face.

I give the taxi driver an overly generous tip, partly to compensate for my bad mood and partly from my desire to make at least somebody’s day a little better.

Only my car is in front of the house. Of course. Erik had an accident with the Audi. Totaled.

My hand trembles as I take the key out of my bag; I can barely get it in the lock.

Maybe Erik isn’t even there. Maybe they’ll only discharge him tomorrow. But as I walk into the hall, I see his shoes on the floor and his jacket hanging on the hook.

The door to the living room is ajar. Before I lose the courage and simply turn around and leave, I push it open.

Erik is sitting on the sofa, staring straight ahead, toward the terrace door. He doesn’t turn his head to look at me as I walk in; it’s as though he didn’t even hear me coming. There’s an empty whiskey glass on the coffee table in front of him.

“Hello.” Two syllables, and they sound so pathetic. Like I’m about to burst into tears.

He doesn’t answer. Nor does he move; he just keeps staring outside, where it’s just started to drizzle lightly.

Fine then. I’ll say what I have to say and then disappear upstairs, into the bedroom. Get out of his way and out of his sight.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I understand that, but I really wanted to tell you once more how sorry I am about what happened.”