‘I would like to be left in peace in here, please.’
He smiled at her.
‘You are at peace in here.’
He picked up the bath towel and placed it on his lap as he sat down on the toilet seat.
‘I mean alone.’
He smiled again, sadly this time, as if she didn’t know what was good for her.
‘Haven’t you been alone long enough?’
She suddenly felt afraid. Wanted to get up and leave the flat. But not as long as he could see her.
‘Why do you look so scared? I already know how beautiful you are. You’ve already showed me once, and how could I ever forget?’
‘I said that we were just going to drink a pear cider.’
‘That’s right. And now we’ve drunk two of them. And you can have just as many as you like. I bought them for you.’
There was nothing threatening about him, he radiated nothing but genuine goodwill. And yet there was something that told her she ought to get out of here, get away as fast as she could.
‘Wait a minute and I’ll give you something beautiful to wear after you’re done with your bath.’
He stood up.
‘That’s not necessary, I’ll wear my own clothes.’
‘You’re worth something more beautiful than those.’
He snatched up her clothes and took the bath towel with him as he vanished into the hall. As quickly as she could, she got up and grabbed the guest hand towel. She had to get out of here. The bath foam slid around on her skin as if the hand towel were waterproof.
Then he was back in the doorway.
She tried to hide herself as best she could.
He stopped in mid-stride and stood there quite still. As if he had forgotten she was in there and now he saw her for the first time. Embarrassed, he lowered his eyes when he saw her nakedness.
‘Excuse me.’
‘Give me the towel.’
With infinite slowness his gaze moved closer and closer. Along the floor and across the bath mat, then up the bathtub, across tile after tile his eyes made their way towards her. When they reached her naked body which she was so desperately trying to hide behind the tiny towel, she saw undisguised admiration in his face. A gasp when his eyes reached her thighs and slowly swept across the towel to meet the skin again above her breasts.
‘God, how beautiful you are.’
His voice was shaking.
‘Give me the towel!’
Her sharp words jolted his gaze away and he again stared down at the floor. Then he put something down on the toilet seat, backed out and closed the door behind him.
She quickly got out of the tub and tried to dry herself as best she could.
‘Give me my clothes!’
‘It’s on the toilet seat.’
She jumped at the closeness of his voice, his mouth sounded like it was pressed against the door outside.
She snatched whatever it was he had put on the seat. Never in her life. Lined and made of a glossy fabric with tufts in the most worn places.
An old flowery dressing gown.
‘I want my clothes!’
‘Do you have to sound so angry? They’re soaking in the sink. Put on the dressing gown now and come out, then we’ll talk about all this.’
His voice was still very close to her.
There was something wrong with him, she had no doubt about that. But how dangerous was he, how scared did she need to be? All she knew with certainty was that she wanted to get out of here, and now she had no clothes. And no one in the entire world would be looking for her. And even if someone actually was trying to find her, nobody knew where she was. She had to leave the bathroom. Go out and talk to him. But to ‘talk about all this’ seemed like a contradiction. They had absolutely nothing to do with each other, and that’s precisely what she had to make him realise.
Disgusted, she looked at the dressing gown. There was a brown ring of dirt around the inside of the collar. Then she managed to get the better of her repugnance and put it on, trying to ignore the odour of age-old filth and a musty wardrobe.
She put her hand on the door handle and took a deep breath.
‘I’m coming out now.’
Not a sound was heard from outside.
She cautiously opened the door a crack. It was dark out there, the hall light was turned off. Out of pure impulse she turned off the bathroom light so she could disappear in the darkness. She opened the door a bit more and when she looked out she saw the glow of a candle from the room. She cast a glance at the front door, well aware that she had heard the keys being turned in all four of the locks. Keys that now lay in the pocket of his trousers.
She took a step towards the candlelight. Everything was quiet. Then she stopped. One more step and she would be visible to him through the doorway. The sudden sound of his voice made her jump.
‘Come.’
She didn’t move from the spot.
‘Please, come. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
‘What is it you want? Why can’t I have my clothes?’
‘Of course you’ll get your clothes, but they’re wet right now. Come in here and we can talk a bit while they dry.’
What choice did she have? She took the last step and looked into the room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed. From her feet in the doorway where she stood and over to his feet by the bed, an avenue of votive candles. A planned path along the floor which all too obviously visualised his expectations. She was just about to protest and explain that no matter what had happened the last time she was there, it was never going to happen again. But then she saw his face and stopped short. It wasn’t her he was looking at, not her eyes he sought. He was looking at the flowered dressing gown. And suddenly, utterly without warning, his face was distorted in a grimace and his whole body shrank, collapsed. He looked away and she saw that he was trying to hide the fact that he was crying. Her confusion was absolute. What was it he actually wanted?
She didn’t say a word. Just stood there in the doorway watching him, and his whole bearing revealed a failed attempt to defend himself from her unwelcome stare. He sobbed a couple of times and sat looking down at the floor, rubbing his hand over his face. Then he hesitantly glanced at her again, timid and embarrassed.
‘Forgive me.’
She didn’t reply. She realised in the midst of it all that the room had changed. The walls were bare but with black dots from the nail holes where the strange paintings had hung.
He looked down at the floor and the votive candles again.
‘I haven’t dared to light candles for several years, but then I bought some in case you were here.’
He uttered the words like an awkward confession, as naked before her as she had been before him in the bathroom. As if he wanted to reveal himself in return, as an excuse for his intrusion. Her fear dropped away. He had merely read the wrong signals when she came home with him. And could she actually blame him? He had naturally believed that she would call. That their night together was a prelude. Seen her as a possibility.
What if she stayed for a little while and made him realise that she wasn’t, that what had happened was a mistake and that she hadn’t meant to hurt him? He wasn’t dangerous, he had only fallen in love and forgotten to find out if she felt the same way.
‘Why haven’t you lit candles for years?’
An attempt at conversation. Approach cautiously and gradually get him to understand.
He looked at her and smiled slightly.
‘There is so much you don’t know about me, that I haven’t managed to tell you yet.’
Wrong track. She had to try and be crystal clear from the beginning.
He beat her to it before she could start over.
‘I would like to ask you a favour.’