Amberville - By Tim Davys Page 0,103

and left Eric on the stairway.

The apartment was larger than I’d thought. Lots of rooms and corridors. Closets and corners. Finally I found Emma Rabbit in the bathroom where she was brushing her fur. She was humming one of the songs the orchestra had played last evening.

“As if November were too late,” she said as I stepped in.

“No,” I answered, then changed my mind. “Yes?”

I didn’t know what she was talking about.

“But Alexi is going to see what a green bicycle can mean,” she said.

“Sure,” I answered.

I didn’t know who she was talking about.

“Despite the fact that you realize that it’s going to hurt?” she asked.

I nodded.

I didn’t know why it should hurt.

“Darling,” I said, “excuse me a moment.”

I ran out of the bathroom. I ran out into the hall. I ran out into the stairway and down onto the street where I ran as fast as I could in the direction I assumed Eric had gone.

I caught up with him before Wright’s Lane.

“It didn’t work,” I panted. “You have to go back. We have to plan better.”

But it wasn’t a matter of planning.

Every day that Eric spent in my stead with my wife, they created common memories. Every memory created references, solidarity, and a communion into which I had no entry.

For another eleven months I continued to arrange meetings with Eric on the stairwell outside the apartment. Full of hope, I went in to Emma Rabbit and tried to take over the life that was going on without me. In the best cases I managed for two hours. In the worst cases, for less than a minute.

My will remained unbroken. My love for Emma conquered my good sense. During these months I constantly laid out new strategies. I left no idea untested. However absurd it might appear.

It became clear to me that I was forced to copy my brother’s life down to the smallest detail so as to be able to take his place.

I subjected my twin to intensive interviews that I prepared for several days. I carried out regular interrogations where I demanded complete openness. I observed Emma during all hours of the day. I sat at Nick’s Café and stared at their doorway, ready to get up and follow her at any moment. I tried to live and breathe their life without them noticing it. Walk along the streets where they walked, visit the department stores or restaurants that they visited. The idea was simple. If I got the same stimuli as Eric, my reactions ought to be rather like his.

During this year of painful desperation I continued working at Wolle & Wolle. Work was my salvation, a place of clear demands and monotonous routines in a chaotic life of pain and degradation. I commuted back and forth from Lakestead House. I was en route to the office or to Emma and Eric’s apartment. Then I was on my way back again. Lakestead was strict where time was concerned. I was always in a hurry. I was always short on time.

I had a hard time keeping certain days under control. I stood outside Wolle & Wolle, wondering if Eric was there. I stood outside Uxbridge Street, wondering if Eric was there. I stood outside Lakestead House, wondering why I was there. I stood outside Hillville Road, wondering if Father was there. I stood alongside myself, wondering if Eric was there.

The pain of failure receded. I knew what to expect from my encounters with Emma. My hopes overcame my clear-sightedness. My hopes invited self-deception. I was balancing on the brink of the dishonorable.

Finally a day arrived when reality overcame fantasy.

It’s so simple to write.

Finally reality conquered fantasy.

But these fantasies had been my lifeblood. The castles in the air I’d erected every time I ran after Eric in desperation and induced him to turn around. When reality caught up with me, it took the dreams out of my life, and what was left was almost nothing.

I retreated. I left it to Eric to uphold my life. I don’t think anyone noticed.

I retreated.

There are occasions—for some, several times during a normal day, and for others a few times during a lifetime—when you feel impatient with your situation in life.

A kind of existential vacuum.

A thought loop that arises when the majority of physical and emotional needs are met. You feel boredom, despite the fact that you ought to be happy. You lack connection, a sense of belonging, and ask yourself if life really is no more than this.

I never experience such