The momentary confusion that I feel in coming out of the hypnosis that I realize had been prompted ….by design…. from the old recording of Dr.Rothschild’s that she had obviously kept ….now sends, in a flurry of thoughts
that sense of feeling cornered ….
and from that triggered thought I find I land upon others ….such as
I have gone from that sense of being stranded and living in one prison —the underground bunker in the Adirondaks ….to that other prison —of my high school stalker and do now find myself forced to live out yet another sentence as where I find myself as the companion/groundskeeper of a supposed retired spy but forced to report back as his spy because …..why? this part has me rather stupefied as I sit there in that foggy aftermath of that blankness which comes when you know your brain has been prodded whilst under some form of a tranquilizer —how induced, I am not fully sure
befuddled ….I look up at Jörn assuming, he is why I feel this way
….as I watch him…. peeling off fake press-on manicured nails
I hear the sound of them hitting the porcelain sink of the lavatory as he has left the door open and from the psychiatrist’s couch I am still sitting on, I have a perfect view of the lavatory’s interior
I feel entranced to watch him; perhaps it is the after-affects of the hypnosis ….so…. fascinating really ….he’s so methodically professional —now as I watch him removing his make-up. The glasses now removed, does one eye at a time; he uses some sort of white cream, so fastidiously neat and orderly, almost like a surgeon, so careful and practiced. And then it is the lipstick, off it comes, leaving not even a stain of any residue; then washes his face with a foaming cleaner, scrubbing up to his hairline and then the hair itself; under the faucet, washes out the setting and then in a blink, it is tightly tied back…. he is himself again completely transformed before my very eyes!
I get up and walk to the lavatory doorway,
“Jörn, what is going on?”
“Not here,” he whispers and presses an index finger to his mouth and implores me with his eyes but looks at the time of his watch which he now reaches for from inside a gym bag which had been stowed in a cabinet under the sink, “although, I think everyone has gone,” he says, as he puts the watch on his wrist and deftly secures it as he moves back into the psychiatrist’s office from the lavatory to open the door a crack that leads back out to the main office and listens
“Yes, Melina has left—she’s always the last to go,” he tells me
I realize she was the receptionist behind the sliding glass from before
“Are you —like—working here?” I ask
He looks at me conspiringly as he shuts the door again,
“Candy Bergen is Dr. Evans assistant —until ….her return from the UK—she’s guest lecturing at the university discussing theories and how it links to archeological evidence—“
“What!?”
Jörn studies me through narrowed eyes and then shakes his head,
“let’s go,” he says and points back to the lavatory, “you go through to the other door —it leads to the office building’s corridor which leads to the elevator. Go downstairs to the ground floor and if you see anyone on the way out, and if they ask —say you are waiting for an Uber ride.”
“Where are you—“ I start to say, but as I watch what he does I realize the answer as he takes the gym-bag, now containing all of Candy Bergen’s disguise, and now fully changed into blue jeans and a gray and white pinstriped t-shirt and gym shoes as he climbs on the counter of the sink to the window above
“Oh my god, what are you doing?!” I ask him, “are you jumping or do you think you’re Spider-Man and going to scale the wall?”
He holds back a laugh and says into my ear,
“there’s a fire-escape on the other side of this wall,” and before I can respond to this, he kisses my neck behind my ear and bites my ear lobe as he says, “I’ve parked down the alley, look for a white Volvo, it’ll have an Uber sign,” then leaves a wet trail with his tongue right before he jumps out the window
“Shit….” I say a bit dazed to the empty room as I stare at the window
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