An Interpreter in Vienna | Chapter 28

Part V: Claustrophobia

An Interpreter in Vienna is a response to Graham Greene's The Third Man and a psychological thriller serialized on The Matterhorn each Saturday. This prose is a continuation of a letter written by Marie to her (official) employers in anticipation of Josef’s arrival at her door.

∞ Table of Contents | Blurb
∞ Author’s Foreword

Chapter 28

More and more, as evening approached, I considered the possibility that I could be murdered tonight. Josef manifests the Coronavirus to me just as Nosferatu manifests the Black Plague. I have to stick that dagger in his heart. He may desire me, but he would congeal my blood. I feel a strange pull toward him like you often see in vampire films. 

As I write to you now, within the hour of his arrival, I am more at peace with the possibility of death. There are moments when I silently scream but mostly, I am being proactive in anticipating the worst and preparing myself. It is the hardest my brain has ever worked, and it has made me feel more alive than ever before. 

I decided that day that I wanted to face my end with dignity. I also considered that it could be my beginning, of life as a spy or life with Josef, I’m not sure. 

There was something wonderful about not knowing which extreme I was entering. All I knew was that this moment was significant. That I had become significant.

⬩

I considered my options recently:

What could I use for defense? Or would it be better to greet him in one of the outfits he had given me, hoping to remind him of Marija?

If I have to fight him, shall I find a way to keep him in the basement or kill him here and run away?

These ideas at times felt preposterous. I simply placed myself in a type of film and detached myself from my own reality in order to make the right decision.

All of this would be too much noise for my neighbors, even for the Viennese who normally kept to themselves. 

All I could do was to arm myself the best of my ability.

Photo by Aman Upadhyay on Unsplash

I’m beginning to feel frightened again as I write this - the last part of my long missive - though I want to resolve myself to be courageous. I was angry, too. Angry at the virus. Angry at my mother for not getting help sooner and not insisting I come home at the start. Angry at getting myself into this mess. When had it all gone wrong? That newspaper photograph. I had been manipulated to be someone I’m not, embarrassed and used by Marija and Josef. 

The emotions seem suddenly clearer. I am not so angry at Josef; in fact, I don’t care about him. And this thing in the newspaper; surely nobody remembers it. Only I do and for that, yes I am angry at Marija and Josef but I am more angry at myself for allowing myself to be manipulated. 

It is horrific the way I just let it happen. I hate myself for it.

Is this why I can no longer go out with friends? 

Is this why I detest the German that comes out of my mouth? 

Is this why I have created walls instead of boundaries around my being? 

Or is everything blurry because my mother is dead? 

⬩

Oh fuck. I’m going to have to end this in a moment. I’m sorry it’s all gotten a bit emotional here. I can hear somebody entering the building. The elevator has been called down. The cheap metal grating is rattling through the apartment hallways until it stops at the ground floor. 

It begins to move up. 

As I face death, I’ll be honest here: I’m afraid. I can’t do this. I’m going to curl up into a ball in my bed with all the blankets over me, but I’m taking the dagger into bed just in case I need to try to defend myself. I’ll let you know what happens if I’m still alive. 

---

To be continued next week…

Find all the published chapters in the Table of Contents.