Satisfied, John leans back again. "You don't know anymore?"
"To be honest, I didn't think about it. I probably pushed it back then and forgot the details." "Details are fine, but you have to know if they died at the same time."
I look at him slightly desperate. As soon as I'm here, it makes me think about things that I have pushed far out of my consciousness. Is that a good thing? I do not think so.
"Your body is probably trying to protect you from something. The only question is what." John seems genuinely interested in this, but is it really that important? "Eva, are you interested in finding out why you have this headache? I'm pretty sure it has something to do with your lack of memory." He looks at me expectantly. But I am unsure what should I do? At the moment I clearly have little enough free time to waste it on something like that, perhaps nonsensical. I should refuse.
“I'll think about it.” What? no, wait a minute, I wanted to refuse! But somehow I am interested.
"All right, call me as soon as you've made up your mind. My number is on the card. Have a nice day."
I hurry out of the room and take refuge in my apartment. I'll be on sick leave until tomorrow, then it's the weekend. So three days pass before I have to go back to work. And the internship will soon be over.
Suddenly exhausted, I shuffle into the bedroom and take off my clothes. I let myself slide into my dressing gown before I disappear under my fluffy duvet. It's only three o'clock, but I can take a nap from time to time.
This time I don't sleep dreamlessly, but wake up again only two hours later bathed in sweat. I gasp for air at the back of my hand, and when I have calmed down again, the dream has already disappeared from my memory, maybe it's better that way. I slowly drag myself to the bathroom and let the water run in. How long have I not taken a bath? So I spend the next hour dozing in the warm water, relaxing and thinking about nothing for a while. After that, I really feel better and I get to cook dinner full of vigor, and later on I actually poke my head back into the books.
I'll manage to get John Linder out of my mind by Sunday, but my indecision comes back with the headache.
How should I answer? On the one hand I want to know what's behind this annoying migraine, on the other hand I already have enough stress. But without this pain, I could learn more, which in turn would be good for my studies. But what if he steals my time with some nonsensical methods? But how am I supposed to know, oh man, what am I supposed to do?No. I will not go again. I can do well without this nonsense, they are all just theories! By poking around in my past he only tears open more wounds, this nightmare is the best example! And for my headache, I just keep getting aspirin.
On Thursday it was that time again and I was back in the pharmacy. "In the long run, I'll still be broke!" I murmur sullenly as I pay. Today it is not the young woman who settles the accounts, but a bald man. Where is she? What the heck, I don't care.
For me it is leisurely, I get into the car. Today I don't have to hurry, I'm even early. Tomorrow is my last day of internship, then it's back to university.
Sighing quietly, I park the car in front of the editorial office while I rummage in my pocket for my new report. It's due today, but I still have to type it because the inspiration for it came from a place without a computer.
During my lunch break I stroll through the village as usual and stop in front of the bakery. I'm not hungry at all, so I'll just get a quick coffee and then I'll be back.
Is she on vacation? Or is she just sick? It can happen.
"Man, I'd rather concentrate on important things again, exams are coming up soon. I'm slowly getting really mad, I'm already talking to myself."
On Friday morning I balance through the editorial office with a cake in my hands. I never noticed before how much was lying on the floor. Astonishingly many things can become a stumbling block when you just can't use it. Like me now. Unbelievable luck for me, but I actually manage to get my farewell present safely through the morning. The cake is eaten with the other employees and chatted about the past few weeks. There is not too little laughter, the people here simply have a sense of humor.
Much too early, in my opinion, is the end of work, for me the last time for the time being. Maybe I can do my internship here later, but it will take a while until then. After a few hugs, I turn my back on my work and return home. Tuesday I have to go back to university, which is why I urgently need to relearn what I admittedly have forgotten.
I can only afford this apartment, which is quite spacious for me on my own, because of all sorts of grants, which I honestly have no idea why I am getting. I don't really care as long as I stay. The only disadvantage of my home is that the larger area means that I have more to keep clean, which I don't like at all. In fact, every time I finish cleaning up, it seems like a bomb hits and I have to start over.My first step leads me to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, where I break open a new pack of headache pills. Then I rummage in my bookshelf for a cookbook that a colleague once gave me. After a quick look in the fridge, I choose a light recipe and go straight to work.
Satisfied and enthusiastic, I set about cleaning the kitchen and, for a change, doing the dishes, which admittedly has already been lying there for two or three days. While doing such daily chores, I have been finding things that have been lost for weeks and that I don't remember ever placing there. I am a bowl and always will be. The best example is my late grandma's little gold chain. I searched desperately for half a year, but when I gave up, it reappeared in my soap box.
I never lose anything, at some point I'll find everything again.
So today too, sullenly I bend down for the paper, but immediately flinch back. The psychiatrist.
No. I won't call him, I was that far. Didn't I throw the card away afterwards? Anyway, I'll do it now. In the next few minutes I try in vain to distract myself with cleaning before I see that it is no use. Part of me wants to call, want to know why I have such a headache, why I can't really remember my parents' death. The other part, who is desperately fighting for the upper hand, is afraid of the answers to these questions.
But why am I so scared? I don't understand, nothing unusual has happened and I had a happy childhood. Maybe I'm just uncomfortable revealing my life to someone so far? How does he even want to do that?
I'll just ask him, it doesn't cost anything to ask. If I don't want something, I can always cancel it. I am not forced to do anything.
Indecisively, I turn the business card in my hand, but finally I take heart and dial the number with trembling fingers.
Answering machine. I push away without saying anything. Well, then it shouldn't be. I am just about to begin another activity with relief when I look at the line under the practice number. His private number, whether I should really call there? After all, he's free and I don't want to disturb him.
It's just a quick phone call.
Dial tone. “John Linder?” There he is, I quickly swallow excitedly. “This is Evangeline. Evangeline Thompson.” I pause as if he remembers my name. "Ah, Eva. To be honest, I didn't expect your call anymore. Fine, so have you made up your mind?" Apparently he still knows me. "Uh, yes. I think I think I would like to. One moment different. Your offer is still open?" I could slap myself for this embarrassing stuttering. "Naturally.So I'm assuming your answer will be positive? "I confirm with a nod, but blush when I realize that he can't even see it." Yes. "I answer a little late." Well, then tomorrow at, shall we say three-thirty in the office? Is that okay for you? “So fast?” Uh yes. "I bring out with difficulty." Good, see you tomorrow then. "Still slightly overrun, I also say goodbye.
"Come back down Eva.", I admonish myself. Now it's time to get around the time until the appointment. It ends with throwing myself into bed with an Agatha Christie novel and still half asleep.
During the night it starts to rain again and I sleep restlessly. I wake up with a racing heart, my breathing is difficult. The thriller is slammed on the floor, I knocked it off when I woke up.
I briefly toy with the idea of ​​taking a shower to cool off, but I'm simply too lazy. Instead, I watch the rain as it falls, as it rolls off the windowpane, drop by drop, and falls to the floor.
At some point I drifted off into a dreamless sleep again and only wake up again when the sun is high in the sky. I jump out of bed at the back of the table, rush to my cell phone to see what time it is.
I am relieved to register that it is 'only' twelve o'clock, so there is still a little bit left before I have to leave. A quarter past three I stare at the rough brick wall of the practice, even holding out ten minutes before I finally manage to get in. No less nervous than the first time, I let myself fall into the armchair in front of John after I was asked in.
"Nice that you are here Eva. Then we want to begin."