Devil's Touch

by Tina Lindegaard

  The angelic face stares at him in disbelief and then at the doctor.

  "What’s he talking about?"

  The doctor shakes his head and Nathan turns to the nurse again.

  "You should take care of yourself. He sees other women. Women who are not as innocent as you. Women who get paid. Paid a lot that is…. but I guess that also means a lot of men."

  The picture of two girls sitting on the steps in front of the yellow house appears before his eyes. Nathan closes his eyes for a moment.

  "Nathan, are you OK?"

  Brian sounds worried, but Nathan opens his eyes and looks at the angel face before him for a long time. She stares back with a penetrating gaze. For the first time in his life, he feels that someone sees right through him without finding anything.

  "Go home and die, old man! Go home and die! You only have a couple of months before the cancer gets you anyway. Your body is full of it!"

  She turns on her heels and slams the door so hard that the doctor’s diploma on the wall falls down and the glass breaks. Nathan wets his lips and turns toward the doctor. Their eyes are empty, and it’s as if there are no words left to say before Nathan pulls himself together and speaks.

  "What’s she talking about?"

  Brian looks at him for a long time.

  "Well, this is not how we normally inform our patients. But there’s a lot of things we can do to help you."

  "Do I have cancer?"

  The doctor slowly nods before looking down at the file, opening it and putting the sheets of paper in order.

  "Yes."

  Nathan’s brows move up to form little arches over his dull eyes.

  "That’s why you’re always so tired and have headaches."

  "But I have been checked every year. I have lived a healthy life, exercised. Done all the right things."

  "Yes, but it’s a very aggressive form of cancer."

  "Has it spread?"

  "Yes."

  "How much?"

  "It’s in your lymphatic system."

  Nathan nods.

  "That means that..."

  But Nathan holds up his hand, and the doctor doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence.

  "I remember our talks when Denize was sick. I know what it means and how it will likely end."

  "But there’s a lot we can do. Since Denize died…"

  Nathan stops the doctor with his hand again.

  "How long?"

  "It’s hard to say. There’s..."

  Nathan raises his hand again and the doctor stops.

  "How long?"

  "A few months, maybe a little longer."

  "Years?"

  "I don’t think so."

  "Nathan, there’s a lot we can do. A lot of new drugs have been developed since Denize died."

  Nathan nods his head. He walks with halting steps at first, but then a little faster. He stops at the door and looks back at the doctor. The room is almost dark, lit only by the desk lamp in front of Brian. The chair behind the desk creaks when Brian starts to get up. But Nathan’s hand stops him again and he falls back into it.

  "Nathan, if you don’t trust me, find another doctor and get some help. I beg you. After all, we’ve known each other for many years. We’ve had some good times together on the golf course..."

  "Well, my world is different today than it was yesterday. So many things have changed, Brian."

  "Find Denize’s daughter and find your will to live. You can still get some good moments before..."

  "Hmm, yes. I’ve already found her, Brian. Not all news is good news.”

  Brian sits back in his chair.

  "She’s one of Stuart’s women, Brian. One of Stuart’s women. You know what that means."

  Nathan swallows hard and with difficulty.

  "And it kills me to think that you may have been with her. It kills me, Brian."

  "Nathan, come back tomorrow. Then we’ll talk about what to do from here and how to get you into treatment."

  "Take good care of her."

  Nathan moves his head in the direction of the door.

  "She’s young and innocent compared to the women you normally see."

  Nathan’s breathing is troubled.

  "She has the face of an angel. Marry her and be a good husband to her."

  "Where are you going, Nathan? You shouldn’t be alone tonight. It’s not easy."

  Nathan stops and looks back. The doctor is still in his chair behind his desk. The light from the desk lamp is reflected in the surface of the desk and thrown back in the doctor’s face. Nathan leaves his office and the doctor quickly gets up to follow him.

  "Nathan?"

  "I need to find a good lawyer."

  "Nathan. If not from me... get help."

  His voice fades away into a whisper, as the nurse’s scowl follows Nathan all the way to the door. Nathan turns to face her.

  "Take care of yourself, child. You’re playing with the grown-ups."

  She opens her mouth to speak, but feels a hand on her shoulder and she turns, surprised to see the doctor standing next to her.

  "Goodbye, Nathan."

  The doctor’s voice is quiet but firm. Nathan nods and closes the door behind him.

  "But..."

  Nathan hears the nurse’s voice again, but it gradually becomes weaker as his steps against the marble floor get louder. He takes out his phone from his pocket, and he is suddenly very tired.

  "Hello, Nathan Wilkins here. I need some paperwork done tonight and a couple of signatures. I’m sorry, but it cannot wait until tomorrow. Is it possible tonight? Hmm, I’ll be there in an hour."

  Chapter 8

  There’s already a police car in front of the building when the cab pulls over.

  "Here you go."

  Eric throws the bills to the driver and opens the cab door.

  "Don’t you want change?"

  Eric is already out of the car.

  "Never mind, keep it", he whispers. He stays there with his hand still on the car door, when their eyes meet briefly. He looks old and his breathing is heavy. He gives Eric a small nod and disappears down the street. Darkness swallows up the tall figure and he is gone. A limo starts off and follows him slowly. Eric tries to fight his impulse to run after him, grab him and yell "what have you done?!" But Eric knows that he’s no match to James in spite of the age difference, and he also knows the power Stuart has had over him for all those years. Eric looks down and is overpowered by guilt. He’s always seen himself as a wimp, someone who always stays out of trouble, and over the years he’s accepted that that is who he is.

  He sees that his shoes are covered in rain, and only now does he realize that it’s raining. His hair sticks unpleasantly to his head, and his first impulse is to run his hand through it to try and cover the bald spot that is growing on the top of his head.

  "Have you changed your mind? Do you want to go somewhere else?"

  Eric slowly turns around and looks inside the cab while resting on the half open door.

  "I really wish I could."

  He pushes the car door shut and his reflection stares back at him from the window of the cab, almost like a warning. The rings under his eyes are large and dark, his cheeks are hollow, and he looks tired, as if something has left him. The sound of water around car tires drowns his thoughts and he’s pulled back to reality. The ambulance turns the corner with high speed, and the emergency lights seem to create a new reality. It pulls over to the curb where there is a big puddle of water. The water splashes onto the lower part of Eric’s pants. They quickly leave the ambulance and run into the lobby with all their equipment. The doors close behind them before Eric has time to move. A strong, paralyzing feeling of having failed runs through him and he has trouble breathing. ”Why wasn’t I the one who ran in to save her? Why didn’t I stop James, when I know that he has…?”

  He is gasping for air as he pulls out his phone and carefully presses the re-dial button. It rings for a long time.

  "Y
es."

  It’s a man’s voice, and Eric takes the phone away from his ear and looks at it for a long time.

  "Hello. This is the police."

  ”Why did I do this? I knew she wasn’t going to pick up... and now the police.”

  He feels dizzy. ”Maybe it’s all for the best. I’ve been running away from responsibility for long enough, and what good has it done me...?” He hangs up and slowly walks toward the building.

  The faint noise of the elevator doors opening is soon drowned out by the sound of voices further down the hall. Without looking at their faces, he quickly walks past them and into the living room. An eerie feeling grabs hold of him as he sees the wine glass on the table and a living room that looks completely normal. He quickly looks around and walks over to the open door on his right. His heart is beating so much he can almost hear it, and at the same time, his brain is trying to prepare him for what is to come. It doesn’t do a very good job, and he stops at the door as if he’s paralyzed. The white sheets are stained with blood, the cover lies on the floor, and there are bloodstains on the wall. He has to support himself on the doorframe and forces himself to take the first step over to the stretcher.

  "Eric?"

  Evy’s voice is a hoarse whisper.

  "Oh, Evy."

  He takes a step closer, but then stops.

  "The phone. The phone."

  Her eyes are begging him.

  "Who are you?"

  A heavy hand on Eric’s shoulder, and he is brutally turned around to face the police officer.

  "How did you get in?"

  The paramedic tugs the blanket under her.

  "We have to go."

  Another officer has arrived and nods at the ambulance people as he steps aside.

  "I’ll walk with you to the elevator. There’s a lot of people outside. I guess it’s up to us to figure out how they found out."

  He looks at his colleague. The paramedics push the stretcher, trying in vain to make it move on the thick carpet. They look at each other in resignation until the older paramedic with the graying hair shrugs and looks up.

  "We have to lift it."

  The younger paramedic looks at Evy and then he nods and lifts.

  "The phone. The phone."

  Evy keeps looking at Eric as she is carried out. The officers are gone for a moment and Eric quickly looks in the direction that Evy had indicated. There are still pieces of the mirror stuck to the frame, but the rest lies shattered on the floor. He struggles for breath and suddenly it’s as if something he has seen before reaches his conscious mind. There in the reflection in one of the shards at eye level. He turns around slowly and is confirmed in his suspicion. A large piece of the mirror is lying on the bed. The tip is covered in blood and fine bloodstains run down the shiny surface. Suddenly he can’t breathe, and everything goes black. He’s standing at the end of the hall in his childhood home. Loud voices had woken him up and he can hear the sound of glass shattering. On his tiny legs, he walks toward the door at the end, step by step. He hears his mother screaming and hugs his teddy bear closer. A tall, dark figure stands in front of him. Tears are already streaming down his face, but the man doesn’t bend down to comfort him. Instead he deliberately pushes him over as he walks past him. On all four and dragging his teddy bear after him, he crawls to the door and looks cautiously inside. There on the floor is a piece of a broken mirror with blood on the tip and blood running down the shiny surface. He starts to scream when he sees his mother’s hand hanging over the side of the bed. Eric covers his mouth with his hand. ”I know who did this. Oh, I know who it was.” Sirens start down in the street and Eric hears the officers talking in the hall. He almost falls over, but manages to tear his eyes away from the bed and pick up the pink phone from the floor. With the phone in his hand, he slowly walks back to the living room, sensing movement in the room.

  "What’s that? Fredericsson in a suit. Nice. Have you hung up the uniform?"

  Eric recognizes the voice of one of the officers and hears a strong tone of anger in the voice, when it answers.

  "Hmm, maybe you should try it."

  Holding on tightly to the phone, Eric disappears from the bedroom. It’s as if none of the officers in the living room notice him, and he slips out into the hall.

  "Stop!"

  Eric starts and slowly turns around. A man in a suit gets in his way and holds up a badge.

  "My name is Peter Fredericsson."

  When he’s certain that Eric has read the badge, he slowly puts it back in his pocket, while still looking at Eric.

  "Do you know the person who lives here?"

  The rain is still dripping from his dark hair when he looks directly at Eric.

  "Yes."

  "From where?"

  "From school."

  "Can I have the name?"

  "Mine?"

  The officer is surprised at the question.

  "Yes, yours."

  Fredericsson looks around pointedly.

  "Who else’s? You’re the one I’m talking to."

  He looks at Eric again, and Eric feels more and more uncomfortable.

  "Eric... Brown."

  "Hmm. Were you the one who called for help?"

  He shakes his head in silence and shame takes over like little spikes hitting him on the inside.

  "Stay here."

  The voice is just as commanding as the look.

  "And that’s not a suggestion."

  Fredericsson looks at him for a while.

  "Eric Brown."

  He enters the flat and returns shortly after. He takes the same position, still staring at Eric.

  "You wait here."

  Then he slowly looks from Eric to the other officer.

  "Make sure this place is sealed off. When does forensic get here?"

  The officer looks surprised.

  "You haven’t called them? Just me? What were you thinking? Call them."

  "But…"

  Fredericsson shakes his head violently and notices the questioning look from his colleague. Full of despair he shakes his head again.

  "Just make the call. And get everyone’s name. Including his.

  He nods in Eric’s direction.

  "And this time get some ID."

  He looks at Eric again. Then Fredericsson turns around and walks through the door. Eric tries to hold his breath. He feels that the sound of his breath is louder than any other sounds in the hall, but a gasp escapes him when a vibration in his hand is followed by an unknown ringtone. Fredericsson spins around.

  "Shut it down."

  The uniformed officer stares at him and Eric stops breathing. He stares at the phone, but can’t figure out how to shut it down. His finger hovers over the phone when he reads the name on the screen. ”Oh! Oh!” The finger hits the display and Eric pulls back his hand.

  "James S."

  Fredericsson lifts his eyes from the phone.

  "It can wait.”

  Eric looks up into Fredericsson’s eyes. A drop of rain from his hair falls onto the display. Without any warning Fredericsson breaks their eye contact and turns to face the uniformed officer. He touches him lightly on the upper arm and they walk away from the people who are still standing in the hall. Eric can hear them mumbling even though they are standing with their backs to him. He can’t understand the words but realizes that everyone in the hall is watching them. Eric looks down the hall and slowly takes a step back and then another. No one seems to notice and he slowly turns around and disappears around the corner by the elevators. When he opens the door to the staircase, he briefly recalls the glimpse he saw of his own face earlier in the cab window.

  Eric tries to stand still while he’s reading the many signs, but the letters are jumping up and down before his eyes. It’s after ten and these last hours in the bar close to the hospital has filled his veins with alcohol. He looks around but the streets are empty. ”I need some air.” The parking lot seems strangely empty in spite of the parked cars. There is hard
ly any light. ”I need to sleep.” Deep down he really wants to open the little bag of white powder in his pocket. He had felt so brave when he ran out of his apartment to help Evy. He puts his hand on the pocket with the pink phone. But seeing James had drained him of all energy. He is tired and sits down on a bench by the entrance. He shivers in the chill autumn air. While he carefully opens the bag with the white powder, he’s imagining ways of physically punishing James. But his thoughts end in a chill that seems to go on and on. He handles the bag and its contents like an expert, and when the effect kicks in he is back in his usual role. Suddenly he sees his face in the cab window again. Not a brave knight trying to rescue Evy, but the scared boy who, after his mother’s murder, got a stepmom, who tried to help him through in the beginning, but who had gradually given up and instead ended up supporting his destructive pattern by keeping him away from his father. ”Even today, I’m still afraid of my father.” He breathes in deeply, gives in, and lies down on the wet bench in a fetal position. Sleep is far away and his thoughts continue to disturb him.

  "Hmm."

  The voice is thoughtful but unknown to Eric. He feels someone grabbing his shoulder. He struggles, but finally gives up and opens his eyes. He stares up at a security guard whose eyes are examining him.

  "Do you need help?"

  Eric shakes his head.

  "You can’t sleep here on the bench."

  Eric shakes his head again and quickly takes a pill for his breath.

  "I’m visiting someone here at the hospital, but it looked closed, so I sat down.”

  "It’s not closed. But you’re right, it sometimes looks abandoned. Come on."

  The security guard walks over to the entrance of the hospital.

  "Come on. More rain is coming later."

  Eric hesitates but follows him after getting up with some difficulty. The heat when the door closes behind them hits him like a blanket and he stops. The security guard nods in the direction of a nurse who’s coming down the hall. Shortly after, Eric steps out of the elevator with the nurse who shows him to Evy’s room.

  "Thank you."

  The nurse smiles at him. Just then, a lock of her red hair falls into her eyes. She loosens her ponytail before smoothing back the stray lock and puts the elastic band back in place. Then she nods and disappears down the hall. He looks into the room. The light is dim and he stays in the door.