Strangers: A Novel(9)

“What? Oh yeah, it is. I’m flying to London tomorrow morning, but I can’t find the presentation that one of your guys transferred over to my laptop from my desktop this afternoon.” He pauses and quickly looks over at the kitchen. “But I can see now isn’t really a good time, I’ll go see if Alex can help.”

He’s right, it’s definitely not a good time, but there’s no way I’m having Alex find out about what’s happening at my house as well. So I say, “Oh, nonsense,” and point toward the living room. “Come on, let’s take a look.”

We’re both sitting on the sofa as I turn on the computer. Bernhard is eyeing the screen with interest, pretending the system messages that appear as the device starts up mean something to him.

“What are you going to be doing in London anyway?” I ask, to pass the time.

Bernhard hesitates. “Ah, it’s because of that new project. You heard about it, right?” He lowers his gaze.

“Oh. That. Yeah, I did hear that it’s coming up soon. But only by chance. As I’m sure you know.” My anger from that time is flaring up inside me again.

The whole thing is visibly unpleasant for Bernhard. While I try to focus on the laptop again, his gaze wanders toward the kitchen. He’s looking for a way to change the subject.

“Not that it’s any of my business, but as I’ve just witnessed this … situation, it made me think of an acquaintance of mine. Something very similar happened with her once. It all passed really quickly, but at the time it was happening she no longer recognized anyone. It’s just that she got very aggressive too, with herself and other people. Awful, really. Is it the same with Joanna? I mean … you said she doesn’t recognize you anymore all of a sudden. But did she attack you?”

I find his question bizarre, but then I guess bizarre situations entail bizarre questions. And the things Bernhard’s witnessed since he arrived at our front door would probably prompt such a line of inquiry. Also, the whole thing with the new project is clearly uncomfortable for him. At the end of the day, I guess I should be relieved he reacted the way he did instead of just leaving before I had the opportunity to explain.

“She threw something at me, but that was understandable in a way, because she was afraid. I mean, she does seem to think I’m a stranger who broke into her house. There wasn’t anything else, but that’s enough for me.”

Bernhard nods. “Well, then it’s different to my acquaintance anyway. Who knows, maybe she’ll be all better again in the morning?”

“Yes, I really hope so.” I realize I’m staring at the laptop screen and not seeing anything.

Still, it doesn’t take me long to find the presentation we’re looking for in the recycle bin. Somebody deleted it. Probably Bernhard himself, but if I tell him that, he’s going to categorically deny it. Just like all computer users do when they’ve made a mess of things. Besides, I’ll be relieved when he’s gone again and I can focus on Joanna.

I restore the file and open it. “Is this the presentation?”

Bernhard clicks here and there a few times, then nods, relieved. “Yes, it is. Thank goodness. Where was it?”

“There’s no way you could have found it,” I say, sidestepping the question.

I close the laptop and get up. Bernhard hesitates for a moment longer. “Listen, is there any way I can help? I mean, if there’s anything I can do for you and Joanna…”

“No, thanks. I’m going to go have a quiet chat with her. And I’m sure she’ll be feeling better soon. She has a lot of office visits and paperwork looming; maybe she’s just stressed.”

I hope Bernhard can’t hear in my voice just how unconvinced even I am by what I just said. He packs his laptop away into his bag and gets up.

“All right then. If I was you, I’d think twice about coming into the office tomorrow morning.”

I hadn’t even thought that far ahead yet. What if Joanna’s state hasn’t gotten any better by tomorrow morning? What if she still believes I’m some crazy stranger who broke into her house?

“We’ll see. But I think it will be all right.”

I accompany him to the door. He stops in the hall, his eyes fixed on the passage through to the kitchen. “Should I maybe try to talk to her? If I assure her she really is living here with you, maybe she’ll believe you?”

He means well, but I don’t want anyone she doesn’t know—genuinely doesn’t know, that is—talking to her in this situation. Besides, she did just make it plain that she thinks we’re both in cahoots. No, if there’s anyone who can manage to recover Joanna’s memories of us, then it’s me.

“Thanks, that’s very kind of you, but I think it’s better if I talk to her.”

He shrugs and turns toward the door. “All right then. So good luck and … well … all the best.”

“Thanks.”

I wait until he’s walked a few steps, then I go back into the house. I stand at the entrance to the kitchen for a while and stare at the pantry door. I can’t hear anything. Joanna’s probably sitting on the floor and listening just as intently. My Joanna.

I approach the door and raise my hand. Hesitate. Then, finally, I knock carefully.

“Jo?” I say, so quietly that she probably can’t even hear me. I clear my throat and try again, louder this time. “Jo? Please, I have to talk to you.”