As I step into the small living room, Joanna jumps up and rubs her palms on her thighs. She always does that when she’s nervous or very angry.
She’s so beautiful. Even in this strange situation.
“Jo, I…” I start, but she raises her hands defensively and emphatically shakes her head.
“No, stop. I don’t want to hear the same story again, about how we know each other and even live together. It doesn’t matter how often you repeat it, it doesn’t change anything. I don’t know you.”
There’s that punch to the gut again.
During the night I had a kind of memory of you. It was very brief and fuzzy. Those were her words. And I, foolish as I am, gladly clung to them, like a child being told that Santa Claus exists. She lied to me just so she could escape.
“So then you didn’t really remember me last night?” A superfluous, na?ve question.
Joanna laughs briefly, with no trace of humor. “Of course not. I can’t remember you because I don’t know you. Whatever you have planned—it’s not going to work. So you can just stop, right now.”
She looks past me, and the expression on her face changes. “This man, whoever he is, must have his own selfish reasons for doing all of this. But you, Ela, helping him … How much did he promise you in return for playing along with his little psycho game? What’s the going rate for betraying your best friend?” Joanna’s eyes suddenly grow wide. “Wait … Or did this friendship never really exist from the beginning? Was it part of your plan as well? Just so there would be somebody who can confirm this insane story? Is that how it is, Ela?”
“Jo … You can’t honestly be thinking that…” Ela paces a few steps past me and sinks down into one of the blue armchairs. She flips open her laptop and starts tapping away on it. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I can prove that you and Erik are a couple. I have some photos of the two of you right here. Hang on…”
Photos, of course. Once again, hope wells up inside me that some sort of trigger will allow Joanna to regain her memories of me.
“You emailed me about a hundred photos just from your vacation last month on Antigua alone,” Ela explains, furrowing her brow.
“Photos can be doctored,” Joanna remarks snidely.
Ela pauses what she’s doing and looks up at Joanna. “But you’re a photographer. That means you have an eye for identifying whether a photo’s fake or not, doesn’t it?” Not for the first time, I find myself admiring Ela for how calm she is when dealing with difficult situations. Despite the fact that her best friend obviously has a serious psychological problem.
One last click, then she turns the computer around. “Look, Jo. Does this look doctored to you?”
Joanna looks over at the screen. She moves closer, leans over, wrinkles her brow. Stays silent. For three seconds, five, ten…?
I can’t take it any longer. I stride over to Joanna’s side and look at the photo. It’s not one of our vacation photos, but I recognize it right away. Ela took it not too long ago. We had been celebrating her birthday, right here in her living room. Two of her coworkers from the hospital had been here, and another couple who I don’t know. Ela had managed to get all of us together on the photo, and Joanna and I are pictured right in the middle. Not that I know a lot about doctoring photos, but I think it would be pretty difficult, if not impossible, with an image like this one. One of Ela’s coworkers is blocking a part of Joanna, and I’m sitting on the other side of her. I have my arm around her shoulders. We’re both in high spirits, laughing into the camera.
The lighting conditions, the shadows … everything fits. I look at Joanna. Wait for a reaction. Eventually she stands up. She must have noticed that I’m looking at her, but she ignores me and looks at Ela.
“It’s very well done.”
“What?” Ela gives me an uncomprehending look.
“The doctored photo. Must have been made by a pro. I can’t see any edges.”
“Christ, Jo!” I say, louder than I’d intended. She flinches and retreats from me. “I’m sorry. But this whole situation’s enough to drive a man insane, it really is! At some point you’ll have to at least consider the possibility that we’re telling the truth here. You can’t go and dismiss everything as being lies or falsification just because it doesn’t fit in with your version of the truth.”
I look at the photo again, at the two young women who work with Ela in the hospital. An idea crosses my mind, to suggest to Joanna that we should find these women and get them to confirm the photo’s real, that we were all at this birthday party together. But I decide I’d better leave it. She’d just sweep it aside by arguing that those two are in cahoots with me as well.
Damn it.
The vacation we spent together, though; surely Joanna can’t have forgotten that. “You really don’t remember Antigua? There should be tons of photos on your camera.”
Joanna’s mouth curls into a sneer. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Jo.” Ela puts the laptop to one side and gets up out of the armchair. “Come on, think about all the things we’ve done together. The wonderful conversations we’ve had. You know so much about me, and I know so much about you. You really think all of that’s just one big lie? Is that what you believe?”
I see a hint of uncertainty in Joanna’s expression. She looks at the floor. “I don’t know.” All the aggression has suddenly left her voice; it sounds quiet and thin now. As she looks over at Ela, I can see a moist sheen in her eyes. “I want to believe you, I do. But that means I also have to believe the things this man is saying, and I can’t do that. Don’t you understand?”
I’m nearly overcome by the powerful urge to take Joanna into my arms, press her against me, stroke her hair, and tell her everything’s going to be all right.
“If I’ve really forgotten the man I’m living with, the man I love, just like that … That would mean something’s not right in my head.”
“Jo, sweetheart…” Ela comes up close to Joanna. The two look into each other’s eyes. Ela’s hands find those of her friend, clasp them, hold them tightly.
“Maybe there really is something wrong. Something that can easily be fixed if we see to it soon. But in that case it’s important for you to get medical assistance right away. You do understand that I’m worried about you? Really worried?”
Crazily enough, I feel jealous of Ela in this moment. Right now she’s close to Joanna, like I desperately want to be. I tell myself I’m a fool; how can I possibly have these thoughts in a situation like this? The most important thing right now is for Joanna to agree to let us help her. And Ela seems to be very much on the right track …
“I…” Joanna’s struggling.
I want to tell her I love her and that I’ll always stand by her, no matter what might come. But my instincts tell me not to interfere right now. It looks like Joanna’s actually thinking about agreeing to what Ela suggested.