I polish it until it shines, then put it back in the block.
Erik must have arrived at the hospital a while ago now. Maybe they’ve already given him stitches and are keeping him there overnight, on an antibiotic drip.
My phone is still on the coffee table, next to the sofa where we spent the afternoon. Laughing. Kissing.
I dial the number I saved in it earlier. Erik probably won’t pick up, but I could at least leave him a message. Tell him I’ll bring his things to the hospital if he needs. Tell him I’m sorry. So unbelievably sorry.
The number you dialed is not available.
That’s unusual. If I knew Erik better … or remembered him, then I’d know if he usually turns his voice mail on or not, or whether this is just an exception. Maybe he was on the phone? Or had no reception at the hospital?
I try again five minutes later, then again after ten. The same result.
What if the bleeding got stronger? If Erik lost consciousness at the steering wheel? If he …
I run up the stairs, into the study, and open my laptop. Which hospital was Erik most likely to have gone to?
I try the closest one, even though there’s no emergency department there.
“Good evening, my name is Joanna Berrigan, I’m looking for Ben…”
My God, what am I saying? Ben? Why does this name keep popping into my head?
“Sorry. I’m looking for Erik—” I am so anxious I can’t remember his surname. The one I only recently learned. It starts with a T, I’m sure of that, but then what? Thaler? Thanner?
“Who is it you want to speak to?” The woman at the other end of the line already sounds irritated, and although I don’t really care, it’s still enough to break down my composure.
“I’m looking for Erik … Thieben. Erik Thieben! He has a wound to his arm and was going to drive to the hospital. Is he with you? I can’t reach him on his phone and—please tell me if he’s with you.”
The woman clears her throat. “I can’t give you any information over the phone.”
“Why not?” Now I’m almost shouting. “Please! He’s my fiancé.” It feels like a lie. But if it is, then it’s his lie.
“If you want any information, you’ll have to come by in person with your ID.”
I hang up. Look for the next number, and try to sound calmer this time. But the result is the same.
Number three on the list is the hospital where Ela works. Ela. She wouldn’t brush me off, I’m sure of it. But first I’d have to tell her, admit what I’ve done. And I’m so ashamed. After all, she was the one who suggested I have myself committed. If I’d done that, none of this would have happened.
I pull myself together. Ela will find out anyway, so it’s better if it comes from me. Without any sugarcoating or hesitation.
She answers after the third ring. Even though I try to sound unemotional, she interrupts me after the first few words.
“What on earth is wrong, Jo? You sound awful! Did something else happen?”
My fingers grip the phone so tightly that its edges cut painfully into the palm of my hand. “Yes. Erik is injured. He drove to the hospital, and I can’t reach him.”
“Which hospital?”
“I don’t know.”
I hear Ela exhale loudly. “You don’t know? OK. Tell me exactly what happened.”
It feels as though I’m leaping, out of a window or off a cliff. From the moment I can no longer feel the ground beneath my feet, it’s as though things just take on momentum of their own, going faster and faster.
I confess everything to Ela, from the moment when we went into the kitchen, to when Erik drove off.
After I finish, there’s nothing but silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. “You attacked him with the knife,” Ela whispers, so quietly I can hardly hear her.
“Yes. Even though we were getting along so well. Even though I was really starting to like him … What’s happening, Ela? What’s wrong with me?”
She doesn’t answer for a while, and when she speaks again her voice is cool. “Let’s deal with your issues later. First I’m going to try to find out where Erik is, and I’ll get in touch again afterward. Please try not to cause any more chaos in the meantime, OK?”
I can hear as much contempt in her words as I feel for myself. I mumble good-bye, then curl up on the sofa and close my eyes.
And see nothing more. Hear nothing more. Feel nothing more. I manage to go into a merciful semiconscious state, and it’s only the ring of the telephone that pulls me out of it again. Ela.
“I found him. He had a car accident on the way to the hospital. He says the car’s totaled.”
“Oh my God.” And I let him drive alone, in the state he was in. Instead of calling an ambulance. “Is he badly injured?”
Coldness resonates from Ela’s voice again when she answers. “The stab wound you gave him is the worst injury he has, but of course he has some extra scrapes and bruises now. Nothing too bad, luckily. But he has to stay overnight.” She hesitates before continuing. “And he doesn’t want to see you. He forbade me from telling you where he is.”
I understand, very well in fact, but it still hurts. Even though that’s illogical.
The memories of this afternoon are suddenly all around me again. His lips, his hands. The way he looks at me.
“But he does want me to look after you,” Ela continues. She doesn’t sound too enthusiastic about it.
“You don’t have to, I—”
“I’m doing it for him,” she interrupts me. “Do you realize he’s covering for you? That he’s claiming the wound on his arm is from the accident?”
“No,” I whisper. “How could I know that?”
Ela sighs. “I’m coming to get you now. Erik is worried about you; he doesn’t want you to spend the night alone in the house. He’s an idiot, obviously, but he’s one of my best friends. Be warned, though, I might just hit you for almost killing him.”
“Do it,” I say. “As much as you want.”
She laughs, at least. “OK, Jo. Pack what you need for the night. And when we get back to my place, we’ll talk, OK? You need psychiatric treatment, you see that now, don’t you?”
“Yes. See you soon.”
I spend the evening on one of Ela’s armchairs, with my legs pulled up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. As if holding on to myself that way was enough to stop me from doing something else uncontrolled. Ela gives me a list of experts that she’s printed out, along with a few case reports about people with systematic amnesia whose stories align with mine in some ways, but are completely different in others. None of them became violent.
I listen with one ear, but my thoughts are with Erik. He didn’t report me. I wonder if I’ll still get the opportunity to thank him for it.
24
They let me leave just before midday. Neither the X-ray nor ultrasound yielded any findings.
“You were lucky,” says the doctor, indicating the fresh bandage on my upper arm. “Something with a very sharp edge did that. If it had been your chest or your neck it went into when you crashed…”