Strangers: A Novel(56)

Saying good-bye. It feels like a foreign body in my soul, and yet … it’s real. For days I’ve been leading a life that seems like somebody else’s, even to me. Now, this life feels like my death. I don’t know how it can go on without Joanna.

At some point I feel a tear tickle my ear. How long has it been since I last cried? One day? Two? In any case, it was for the same reason as now.

Before that? Nothing for years.

My eyes are falling shut. No wonder, really, after the past few days. I can feel myself slowly drifting off to sleep, gradually slipping into the darkness. Then a thought suddenly hits me and makes me sit up with a jolt.

What if Joanna’s overcome by murderous intent again while I’m asleep? I’d be defenseless. At her total mercy. I look around; the living room door can be locked but not the entrance to the kitchen. The door between the hall and the kitchen, however, can be.

On my way to lock it, I remember that Joanna won’t be able to get anything to eat or drink if I lock the door. I brush the misgiving aside. My life’s at stake here. She can drink water; after all, she only has herself to blame.

That’s another scumbag thought.

After barricading myself in my living-room-kitchen fortress, I lie down on the sofa and pull up over me the blanket that was folded on the upholstered backrest. A relic from a normal life.

Sleep creeps back immediately, like a thief that had been briefly hiding behind the wall of my consciousness.

Once it’s reached me, it no longer creeps. It pounces on me with all its force.

* * *

It’s nighttime, and it takes a while for my head to clear so I can remember where I am. I’m lying on the sofa in the living room. I only vaguely recognize the objects surrounding me; it’s like looking through a dark veil that turns the contours into a velvety blur. Table, cabinet, chair … The faintest glimmer of light falls through the wide glass panes from the terrace.

All right, I know where I am, so now I have to figure out what time I’m at. Judging by the darkness, I’ve slept for a good few hours in any case. I hear myself groaning as I push myself up and search for the display on the telephone. It says 6:13 a.m.

When did I fall asleep? It must have been around four in the afternoon. Fourteen hours. Madness. But then again, maybe not, considering everything I’ve …

Joanna.

Has she been downstairs in the meantime? Was it a knock on the door that woke me, even?

I switch on the floor lamp and walk to the living room door. Before turning the key, I hold my breath and put my ear against the wood. Try to detect sounds on the other side. As I open it, my heartbeat quickens. My hand still on the door handle, I look out into the empty hall in front of me, and breathe a sigh of relief. What did I expect, really? Joanna to leap out at me as soon as I open the door? That’s crazy. Or is it?

I briefly think about going upstairs to see if she’s asleep, but discard the thought again. The last thing I need right now is another confrontation with her. I have to be at work at nine; Gabor’s counting on me. I want that part of my life to be normal again, at least.

By half past seven I’m in a cab, wearing a suit and a new shirt. Good thing I’d hung everything up in the wardrobe. I didn’t see or hear Joanna at all. Good, I tell myself. I have to learn to resist the urge to take care of her.

I don’t encounter many people when I enter the company building. Most of my coworkers usually only arrive between eight and eight thirty. Flextime.

I stop in the doorway to my office and look around. My desk with the two monitors and a stack of documents on top of it, the cabinet … A bit of normality, almost as though my life wasn’t completely out of control.

All right then, professionalism is the order of the day.

I sit at my desk and boot up the computer. Let’s see if I can find anything about this new project on the company network. What usually happens for stuff like this is that a dedicated directory gets set up, which all the involved departments have access to and where everything connected with the project gets filed.

I can’t find anything. Either there really isn’t any information available, or I don’t have access to the directory. Which is quite unlikely, since I’m the head of IT and should have administrator rights for …

“Knock knock.”

I jump, startled, and find myself looking into the duplicitous, smiling face of trouble personified. Nadine.

“Good morning,” she warbles at me, as though we were a lovestruck new couple.

“It was, until now.” I pointedly train my eyes on the monitor. “What do you want? We don’t have anything left to talk about.”

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry about the whole thing at your house. I—”

“Well, you certainly disqualified yourself once and for all with that performance,” I snap at her. It takes me a great deal of effort not to raise my voice.

She takes two careful steps toward me, kneading her fingers as she does. “I said I was sorry. Can’t we just forget about it? I’ll call Joanna and apologize to her as well if you want.”

I prop my hands up on the desktop and half stand up. Nadine shrinks back. “Don’t you dare call our house or show your face there ever again.”

“OK, fine…” She pauses briefly. “Could we at least be civil around each other here at work? We do work together, after all.”