Strangers: A Novel(55)
No, not about what happened.
“About what I did,” I correct myself. “I’ve tried to understand what was going on inside me, but I simply don’t know. I realize that I need help. I’m going to check into a psychiatric clinic tomorrow and only leave again when the doctors say I can.”
My voice gets stronger with every sentence I speak, but now my throat starts to close up again.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat helplessly. “About all of this.”
At the very moment I’m about to turn around and leave, Erik turns to face me. “All of it?”
It’s neither a harmless inquiry, nor a peace offering. From the cold expression in his eyes, it’s clear that he’s getting at something specific.
“Yes.” I swallow in an attempt to ward off the tightening in my throat. “Of course.”
“If that’s so, then please be so kind as to tell me who that was last night, in the car behind me.”
I don’t understand what he means. “What car?”
“The car that forced me off the road.” He straightens up and faces me. The outline of a bandage is visible beneath the right sleeve of his shirt. “It wasn’t just an accident, Joanna. It was another attempt to kill me. The car rammed me from behind first, then from the left, until it pushed me completely off the road.”
He narrows his eyes. “It’s too much of a coincidence, isn’t it? First you tried to stab me, and when you don’t manage, someone else causes me to have a car accident. Just half an hour later.”
I want to say something in response, but I don’t know what; I had thought the accident happened because of the state Erik was in at the time.
“You got pushed off the road? Ela didn’t te—”
“Don’t bother,” he interrupts me with a smile. “Any idiot could figure out that there’s a connection. I might have been na?ve for a long time, but that’s over now.”
There’s a good reason I have a guilty conscience, but this is unfair. “I had nothing to do with that, I swear! I don’t know anything about anyone wanting to push you off the road.”
Erik laughs. “And even if you don’t—how much would that say? What do you actually know for sure, anyway?”
The fact that he’s right makes it worse. What he’s saying feels so unfair, but it’s true. I can’t remember him, I’ve lost control over my own actions—who knows what else there might be.
Suddenly I wish that it were already tomorrow, that all I had to do was lie down in a freshly made hospital bed, close my eyes, and let the doctors do their job.
I feel so tired. “If you really believe what you’re saying—why don’t you report me? Why didn’t you do it yesterday?”
Now he lowers his gaze and, for a moment, looks so vulnerable that I long to go over to him and hold him. We were so close, for a short time.
But the rift I’ve opened up between us with my knife can no longer be healed. If I were to give in to my impulse to embrace Erik, he would push me away. He would have every right to.
And he does it as well, using words. “I didn’t report you because I have this insane need to protect you. And, believe me, even I’m finding it more and more laughable with every day that goes by.”
He looks me in the eyes, and there’s an iciness in his expression that I’ve never seen in him before. “Maybe I still will. The more I think about what happened, the clearer it is to me that I’m the one I need to protect.”
26
I see Joanna’s eyes moistening as she struggles to maintain her composure. She’s motionless, wordless. Reduced to silence, and by me.
Why did I say that? I’m not going to report her to the police. I think I just wanted to hurt her, to see in her face that what I’m saying causes her pain. Because I’m right, every damn word. I … wanted to get back at her for what she’s done to me.
But despite everything, it was wrong, I know that. And yet, seeing the pain in her eyes felt good. A second ago, anyway. Not anymore. Now it feels more like I’m a total scumbag.
An inner voice badgers me, tells me I should jump up and take Joanna in my arms. Tell her … well, something comforting I guess. After all, it’s still Joanna who’s standing opposite me, and she’s never been as low as she is right now.
A different voice whispers that I should first make sure she’s not hiding a knife behind her back, to plunge into me as soon as I’m close enough. I have to stop looking at her the same way I used to back then. She’s a different person now from who she was a week ago. I have to get my head around that.
“I understand,” she says, her voice sounding like a stranger’s, then quietly repeating herself a moment later. “Yes, I understand. Really.”
I don’t respond; I can’t think of anything to say. Maybe I’m scared of coming out with more scumbag talk.
For a while, time seems to be suspended in the silence between us, until Joanna finally stirs again. “I’m going upstairs to lie down.”
She turns and leaves the room, silent as a ghost. I sit there for a few moments, staring at the spot where she vanished around the corner, then sink into the sofa and tilt my head back. Stare at the ceiling, where there’s nothing to see. The throbbing in my arm doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the knowledge that Joanna and I are over.