LONDON, AUGUST 28TH 2015, 09:05 AM
He watched as she left their flat in a rush, carrying with her the rather large leather purse and her cellphone, shouting that she would be home at half-past five... He knew she'd be late due to the rush hour—but it was no use pointing it out. From Monday to Friday it was always the same thing and he appreciated the great effort to be there, on time, to have dinner with him, talk, watch a film or talk or take a relaxing bath together.
The life of a married man, Tanner had pointed out. Only there was no ring and no white dress—He and Madeleine had no use for the formalities and frivolities of weddings.
He preferred not to dwell on it—the word marriage seemed to sour everything. No, they were lovers and perhaps to others, a boyfriend (he despised the word for he was a man) and a girlfriend.
He looked at the date on his fancy new phone—they'd been together for seven months now. He'd never been with a single woman for that long… Although at one point he'd thought he would live his entire life with another—the one who betrayed him, broke his heart… She had died. It feels like it was only yesterday, but in fact a decade had already passed. He thought of her constantly, was haunted by her ghost, by the desire he still felt for her—the burn of it in his chest. And he probably would desire her for the rest of his life… Even if he also loves Madeleine. People always seek the impossible.
He finished up his breakfast and leafed through today's paper—nothing really on his agenda… Nothing that really captured his attention. Outside the day was new, but to him life seemed to drag on with no particular thing to do. A part of him longed for the adrenaline, the field, the missions. He can barely remember the time before he was an agent. And it doesn't really matter to him—no matter what Madeleine says.
The phone rang, to his annoyance. He honestly hoped it wasn't any more of his girlfriend's 'emergency patients'. The ones who could call her personal phones at any hour of day because they thought they were being stalked or that they would have the courage to pull a trigger. Also, the ones who telephoned crying over their failed relationships, their hopeless children, their aging bodies… The dreams they had never fulfilled.
He wondered, honestly wondered, where Madeleine found the strength with so many other people's problems… Even his (and they were not few). He couldn't imagine sitting all day listen to people cry and complain about their lives… Opening up about their personal lives and openly display their emotions.
He couldn't imagine simply sitting around all day.
Oh the irony.
He picked up the phone and pressed the green button to answer.
"Dr. Swann's residence?" He said mechanically.
He suddenly heard the characteristic beeping of the line going dead.
Somewhere, miles and miles away in a little house in Surrey, someone's heart beat rapidly, hands trembling with the telephone in hand. Eyes ready to tear up.