I open the door and stare in surprise at the person opposite me for some time before finally finding my ability to speak.
Standing on our doorstep, with a smile on his face, is Dr. Bartsch, the company psychologist at Gabor Energy Engineering. I say hello haltingly and feel anger rising up inside me. Is this another attempt to give me the boot?
“Good evening, Herr Thieben,” he says, grinning ever more broadly. “I just wanted to drop by briefly to check if everything was all right with you. May I come in?”
15
The man is of average height and wiry, and I immediately notice that Erik can’t stand him. He takes two deep breaths before inviting the visitor into the house with an abrupt jerk of his hand. “Dr. Bartsch. What brings you here?”
Another doctor? I instinctively edge backward into the kitchen.
The man strokes his trim beard. “Herr Gabor sent me, he wanted me to check in with you. Naturally he heard how close you came to a tragedy…”
As he says these words, he looks over at me. Studies me with blatant interest. “You must be Joanna, is that right?”
I’m so tired. I don’t want to make small talk with this doctor, and if he’s capable of even just the tiniest bit of empathy, he should notice that. But before I can answer, Erik is by my side. “Jo, this is Dr. Bartsch, our company psychologist. I didn’t ask him to come here, if that’s what you’re thinking; I know you want to rest today.”
Perhaps it’s just the tiredness, but I find myself unable to grasp what’s going on. Is this visit about me? What do I have to do with Erik’s business? Over the past few days he’s told me a fair amount about himself, including his work. It has to do with renewable energy—an emerging market, my father would say.
“No.” Bartsch looks serious now. “Erik didn’t ask me to come here, that’s true. But our manager thought it would be a good idea if I check in on you. Perhaps there’s something I can help with, and if that’s the case, I’d be very happy to.”
It’s clear that Erik is struggling to contain himself. “Come on, we both know why you’re really here,” he says quietly. “You’re looking for some reason which would allow Gabor to can me.”
I give Erik a sideways glance. He hadn’t mentioned he was having problems at work.
The psychologist shakes his head with a smile. “But why on earth would Gabor want to do that? You’re doing an outstanding job, Herr Thieben, and believe me, he knows that too.” He nods toward the living room. “I’d like it if we could sit down. I won’t keep you long, I promise.”
Even though everything in me is fighting against it, I nod. Yet another stranger in my living room.
Bartsch sits down on the couch and crosses his legs. He looks over at us expectantly.
I pull myself together. “Would you like something to drink, perhaps?”
His expression softens. “Oh, that would be wonderful, thank you. I’d love a glass of water.”
I go into the kitchen, where the pack of shrimp is lying next to the stove, slowly thawing. I can completely understand that Erik wants the man out of the house as soon as possible; I feel the same way. He has that penetrating psychologist’s gaze, which gives me the feeling that he’s able to look right through me. And, ultimately, that he knows more about me than even I do.
Not a difficult accomplishment right now, admittedly.
Feeling a chuckle creeping up my throat, I quickly take a glass out of the cupboard and fill it with water.
“Thank you,” he says, as I place it on the coffee table in front of him. He takes a sip, not averting his eyes from me for even a second, then leans back. “Joanna. I’m very happy that you came through the accident unharmed. How are you feeling?”
It’s not just the stare, it’s also … his voice. It’s not unpleasant, but nonetheless there’s something about it which makes me want to leave the room and hide.
“Leave her be,” Erik answers for me. He takes my hand and interlaces his fingers with mine. “If you want to cross-examine me, then go ahead, but leave Joanna out of it.”
Bartsch shakes his head once more. “I really don’t know what gave you this idea, Herr Thieben.” Without waiting for an answer, he turns to me again. “How long have you been living here?”
For … I have to concentrate. “For six months. Roughly.”
Bartsch gives the pictures on the wall an appraising glance. “Did you choose the furnishings together?”
No, that was just me. I feel the urge to pull my hand away from Erik’s grasp—what am I supposed to say to that?
Bartsch’s gaze wanders back to me; he’s wondering, of course, why it’s taking me so long to answer such a simple question. “Yes,” I whisper.
“Very tasteful.” He reaches for the glass, rotates it between his hands. “It’s a shame that we’re meeting under such regrettable circumstances. Why haven’t you come to any of our office parties with Erik? They’re much less boring than you’d expect, almost all the employees bring their significant others.”
I never went because I’ve only known him for the past five days. The response lies on the tip of my tongue, but there’s no way I’m going to say it out loud. Erik’s grip on my hand has tightened significantly.
“I was always busy,” I say, hating myself for the fact that my voice sounds so weak. “I often work until late in the evening,” I add, a little louder now.
“I see. Yes, that’s understandable.” Bartsch takes a large gulp of water.
My heart is hammering a little too hard in my chest, and I don’t know whether it’s down to the psychologist’s voice or to the fact that he just gave me a clue that my original suspicion was correct. If I really was engaged to Erik, I would have gone with him. I’m a curious person; I would have wanted to see who he works with.
Bartsch speaks up again. “As I said, I don’t want to disturb you for long. And of course you know why I’m really here. Bernhard Morbach was at your house recently and told us afterward that you had tried to run away from Erik, Joanna.”
The man with the laptop bag. Erik’s grip on my hand becomes so tight that it’s almost hurting me.
“That was … a misunderstanding,” I stammer.
The psychologist gives me a penetrating stare. “He said it seemed as though you were terrified.”
Erik lets go of my hand and jumps up. “Oh, that’s what Bernhard said, is it? That’s very interesting. If he was so worried about her, then why did he just go and leave Joanna alone with me?”
Bartsch stares at Erik, his expression unchanged. “No one is accusing you of anything, Herr Thieben. But the scene which Herr Morbach described to us was, at the very least, unusual and stressful for both of you, I’m sure. And now, in light of recent events…”