“What a day! My feet are on fire!”
“But you have some beautiful dresses, Lucienne!”
“I’ve never spent so much!”
“Are you happy?”
“You don’t say such things!”
“Would you like some lemonade?”
“That would be nice.”
“Go lie down on the lounge chair. It won’t take long.”
He returns with two large glasses.
“Thank you, my boy. Two straws too; this is real luxury!”
“I like it when you call me that, ‘my boy.’”
“You hardly knew your mother, did you?”
“No.”
“How is your father?”
“I spoke to him on the telephone last night. He’s beginning to lose his faculties.”
“Your brother Marcel came to see us last week.”
“Oh?”
“He repaired a fence. Luc didn’t have time, too busy at the studio.”
“Speaking of Luc…”
“No, don’t say anything. There’s no point.”
“Don’t you want to hear my side?”
“Your side is all about ass.”
“You’re cruel.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Honestly, yes. Some men you want to keep for yourself, even if they’ll never belong to you. Luc is one of them. Maybe it’s only an illusion, only ass, as you say, but I like to think otherwise.”
Rémi waits for the storm, but it does not come.
“Don’t you want to scold me?”
Lucienne chuckles and takes a good swallow of lemonade.
“It’s good. You know how to make it.”
“Why don’t you want to scold me?”
“Good grief, are you looking for trouble? There’s nothing to say, my boy. You were only the match that started the fire again.”
“Again?”
She lets down her hair.
“I really ought to cut all this hair. It’s far too hot in the city.”
“I know a handsome hairdresser.”
“Is he any good, at least?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Have you slept with him?”
“I haven’t slept with everyone.”
“Have you slept with him?”
“Well, yes.”
“Why do you do that, Rémi?”
“There, I sense you’re going to scold me.”
“Be serious!”
“You and I are alike, you know.”
“I haven’t slept with everyone!”
“Neither have I!”
“I never had a husband!”
“But you took other women’s!”
“Well, now you’re the one scolding me!”
“Do you understand me?”
“No! I was fat and self-conscious. You’ve always looked like a demigod.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“You’re a handsome man. Admit it!”
“I have my charms.”
“You bet! People just want to know whether you get as hard as your smile is handsome. You act like a spoiled child.”
“Maybe…”
“A little discipline wouldn’t hurt you.”
“You’re finally going to scold me.”
“Is that all you’re waiting for?”
She softens.
“That Irène of yours. I like her. She’s a little strange; she doesn’t have your strength, that’s for sure.”
“My strength? More importantly, she’s ill.”
“I know. She told me. I thought only fags got that.”
“A good portion of Africa was infected for a time, perhaps more than here!”
“Oh? Still, she’s unlucky—blind, HIV-positive, is that what you’re supposed to say? Everything happens to her, doesn’t it? And she seems to drink enough for three. She’ll finish herself off. My sister Prudence was like her. She went hard on the brandy! Said she wanted to forget her marriage. Dropped dead at forty, her liver like a sponge. Anyway. At least Irène is beautiful, and she writes! Astrida will be happy to hear that! She must know her; she reads every Harlequin romance.”
“Astrida?”
“A cousin.”
“She never thought of changing her name?”
“Why? Astrida is beautiful!”
“Okay, okay. To get back to Luc…”
Lucienne sips her lemonade before smiling at him and giving him a conspiratorial wink.
“You love him, don’t you, handsome Luc with his young man’s chest?”
“Very much.”
She leans towards him, looking like an excited young girl.
“Is he good in bed?”
“You bet!”
She sighs as she straightens, satisfied.
“Marie-Claire is lucky… I haven’t often had bacon to wrap around the stick!”
“I’m remembering that one. It’s good!”
“Well, what?” she giggles. “Anyway… And where does Victor fit into all this? He isn’t coming home tonight.”
“I don’t think so. He went to settle an estate.”
“Someone we know?”
“It’s out in the country, not far from your place. A Dutch artist.”
“Ah… We usually know the foreigners, though. Ah! I know who it is. He married the Pouliot girl, you know, the one with the big breasts.”
Rémi laughs.
“No, sorry. I left too long ago to remember the girls’ measurements!”
“Come on, a pair like that is unforgettable! And I’m sure you remember all the local boys.”
“Not even, Lucienne. Except one, perhaps. He played badminton; I was his birdie.”
“Oh? You started that young?”
“Two seconds after I ejaculated for the first time!”
“Liar!”
“The truth isn’t far off… Anyway, handsome Gaston Frenette is now married with four children.”
“Not Osias Frénette’s boy!” Lucienne exclaims.
“Frenette, Lucienne, not Frénette. And yes… handsome Gaston. But that’s normal at that age.”
“My God…”
“Don’t tell anyone…”
“Who would you expect me to tell?”
“The Saint-Gouin-Gouin Rumour Association. The whole village belongs.”
She laughs.
“That much is true…”
“To get back to Victor, he’ll be home tomorrow. He left with Mario.”
“Who’s that?”
“His lover?”
“Oh, come on! Don’t tell me! Is that where you two are now?”
“I hope it doesn’t surprise you…”
“You are indeed the first one to blame.”
“I just don’t want to miss the boat.”
“With whom, my boy?”
He hesitates. He knows it will come out wrong, that Lucienne will not understand.
“Victor, Luc, Stéphane.”
“Stéphane? Good grief, how many of them are there?”
“A guy I met in a sauna.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand you anymore. Are there others?”
“There might be. The Internet is vast.”
“What?”
“The Internet? I’m going to have to educate you.”
“I’m not sure… And my education was finished before you were even swimming around in your father’s balls.”
“But you’ll like it. You could communicate directly with Marthe.”
“Well, she isn’t dead, is she?”
“She’s gone to tour Ireland.”
“And she doesn’t feel like touring this region?”
“Do you miss her that much?”
“Very much. You see, I thought I would watch her die. I thought I’d end my days at her manor. Things have become so complicated with Marie-Claire and Luc…”
“How? Why did you tell me earlier that I’d started the whole thing again?”
“You don’t know anything? Maybe I shouldn’t say…”
“You’ve said too much!”
“No, I haven’t got very far yet!” she tries to protest.
“Come on, show me your gossip-club membership card!”
She seems to resign herself.
“You don’t know? Luc never told you anything?”
“No. Look at my ten fingers—we’ve seen each other fewer times than that.”
“True, these aren’t things people talk about!”
“Out with it, Lucienne!”
“You promise not to tell anyone?”
He makes the sign of the cross over his mouth.
“You’re not a believer. That doesn’t count.”
“Lucienne, for the love of…”
“Sophie—well, she isn’t Luc’s!”
“What!”
“A student…”
“Well, well! He never said a word!”
“Of course not! Those two have always been a little risqué. They don’t look it, but it wasn’t long after Marthe left before they were inviting all sorts of people to the house. And they partied hard! At first I found it funny, then I left for Greece. When I came back, they weren’t the same couple. They both looked tired. It wasn’t long before Marie-Claire told me. You know she sometimes puts up students. Well, there was one student who was very dashing—very, very kind and dashing with her.”
“Does this student know he might be the father of a pretty girl?”
“Not at all! Imagine! He barely knew how to drink a beer! He’ll make a lot of women unhappy! A real Gigi l’Amoroso…”
She tries to imitate Dalida, but when she fails, she adjusts her blouse and sighs.
“I might even have been tempted if I’d been younger. I read about it in Châtelaine. A forty-year-old woman said she had a lover, a young fellow. She didn’t remember it being so hard and…” She laughs. “…long-lasting at that age. She was losing her false eyelashes, I swear!”
“Don’t change the subject. How did Luc take it?”
She laughs.
“Luc was in the same bed with them…”
“I see the picture.”
Rémi bursts out laughing in turn.
“Why keep things simple when you can make them complicated?” he says.
“So Sophie wasn’t planned, as they say.”
“She’s a pretty little girl.”
“That she is! But she isn’t Luc’s. She doesn’t have his eyes, and she smiles like handsome Freddy.”
“Freddy! I want to meet him!”
“Bah! Dipping his pencil everywhere, the boy will run out of lead soon enough, or he’ll come across some bad seed and die. Maybe it’s already happened. We lost track of him long ago!”
“But he’ll have lived and enjoyed himself.”
“As if you don’t enjoy yourself. And you’re reaching that certain age.”
“And you, you never caught a shameful disease?”
“I had my share of crabs, don’t worry! But I was lucky all the same. I was careful.”
“Once is enough…”
“Well, as true as I’m speaking to you, I was lucky!”
“And those two, Marie-Claire and Luc, they never thought of having a DNA test?”
“What for? Luc was there. And he told me he didn’t penetrate her that night. Mind you, that doesn’t mean anything. Freddy had been around for a little while, and Luc was very busy at the office… That’s when the real problems began. Marie-Claire always suspected Luc of seeing Freddy again, though Luc always denied it. I’m telling you, at one point I stopped watching The Flowers of Love on television because what was happening at the manor was so much more interesting!”
“The Flowers of Love?”
“A very good American soap opera that comes on in the afternoon. Come to think of it, I wonder what happened to handsome Harry…”
“Forget Harry. Can we get back to The Manor Bordello?”
“That wouldn’t be a good title for a show, but that’s exactly what was happening there! They started again with other couples. Swingers, they call them. Luc was very happy, but Marie-Cé began to suspect something. Luc was often on the same side of the bed as the man… Anyway… After that, it became a desert between them. A sort of lull, even happiness, I would say. Everything was going well, and then the twins on top of it…”
“Life in the country is never dull.”
“There’s no country when it comes to ass. And why shouldn’t they have done it?”
“I don’t even know why I asked.”
“I say it’s because nobody can really refuse a Freddy in their bed.”
“And where do I fit into this?”
“What do you mean, you?”
“Well, you seemed so shocked by what I did with Luc.”
“Good grief, I’m going to think you’re doing it on purpose! Can’t you see? Everything seemed to be back in order…”
“But Luc, last year?”
“Be quiet, Rémi. I don’t want to know anymore. I’m tired, tired, tired.”
“Don’t get angry…”
Lucienne gets up, approaches the pool and bends down laboriously to test the temperature of the water.
“Do you feel like going for a swim?” he asks.
“The water isn’t too bad. I wouldn’t mind, actually. My feet are on fire.”
“Well then, let’s go.”
Rémi begins to undress.
“You aren’t going swimming naked?”
“Say it louder! No, my bathing suit is in the bathroom.”
Together, they climb the stairs leading to the house.
“I’m past the age of seeing naked men.”
“Oh, come on.”
“You’ll see, my boy. When you’re my age, if you walk around naked, you’ll look like blasphemy itself and you’ll be ashamed. They’ll give you Valium and a copy of TV Hebdo so you can concentrate on something else.”
“Other people’s eyes again.”
“Maybe, but it’s not how I was raised, that’s all.”
Lucienne goes to change. Rémi hesitates, then returns to the patio. Cobra is in his office. Fat Émile’s chair still sits enthroned on the garage roof. There is light in his house, shadows in the kitchen. Émile comes out with a beer in his hand, then disappears into his yard. A few minutes later, he reappears on the roof and sits down. The beer bottle is heard opening. The air at the beginning of August is clear and carries sound well. Has Émile understood everything? Irène comes out onto her patio in turn, laughing, followed by a stranger. The man sees Rémi and whispers something in Irène’s ear. She turns sharply towards him.
“Good evening, handsome neighbour! Will you join us?”
“No, thank you. Lucienne and I are going for a dip in the pool.”
“Very well!”
They go down. Rémi loses sight of them, though their modulating conversation reaches him. He glances towards Émile. That one must never be bored.
He thinks of Luc, his own Freddy, then of Marie-Claire. Atoms that cling and fuse, only to explode afterwards. A puppet dance? Love is nowhere to be found. The other night, Luc was looking for a convenient solution, a sauna; he found Rémi’s body. Convenient, beautiful, good, inexpensive, experienced. He used it. Bourgeois happiness. Or a poor man’s happiness.
Lucienne reappears wearing a black bathing suit.
“You’re not in your bathing suit yet?”
“But you look lovely in that suit!”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“I mean it. Don’t stay too long in sight of fat Émile up there on his garage. You’ll excite him.”
“Who? Sweet merciful heaven, what is he doing up there?”
“He ogles everyone. He’s harmless.”
“Damn men!”
“Go on, take your dip. I’ll be right there.”
When he returns, he finds Lucienne motionless at the edge of the pool.
“What’s wrong?” he says, joining her.
“I’m tired, Rémi. I’m thinking about Dimitri.”
“Don’t.”
“Why not? He is one of the most beautiful memories of my life.”
“I mean, don’t make yourself sad.”
“Being sad drains away the excess inside. It lets the bad out.”
“What bad could there be in you, my good lady?”
“The emptiness?”
“That’s a very big word!”
“So what? I don’t have your education, but I can say things the way they are!”
“Don’t get angry. I was serious.”
“Oh, forgive me. Well, shall we get in the water?”
He dives in first. When he returns to the surface, Lucienne is in the pool, smiling.
“Good heavens, you float!”
“Don’t talk nonsense. And just watch me go.”
She swims slowly, with great agility.
“Before,” she says, slightly out of breath, “I floated like nobody else. At least that’s one advantage fat people have.”
She rolls onto her back. He imitates her and comes alongside. They gaze at the faintly lit sky.
“This isn’t the country sky!” she says.
“No, and it isn’t the sky of many other places either.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“No.”
“I’ll sleep well tonight.”
“Lucky you.”
“Do you have insomnia?”
“Sometimes. Back to the bakery tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.”
“We don’t open for another three days.”
“I can’t wait anyway!”
“I’m looking forward to it too.”
When they reach the edge of the pool, they straighten up. Lucienne holds out her arms to him.
“Come here, my boy.”
He approaches. She takes his head and, as usual, kisses his forehead. She climbs out of the water.
“I forgot to bring a towel!”
“Take mine. I’m staying in the pool for a while.”
“I’m going to bed.”
“Good night, Lucienne.”
“Good night, my boy. Don’t think about Luc anymore, okay?”
“That’s what that is.”
“Well, that’s that.”
Once Lucienne is inside, Rémi rolls onto his back again and looks at the sky. He knows that, if he were not careful, the water could draw him towards death. A two-faced friend. He is happy. Lucienne’s good kiss has the effect of a blessing on him, bringing a sense of contentment, of having found his roots again for a while.
After letting himself float for a few minutes, he climbs out of the water. Since Lucienne has taken his towel, he lets himself dry as he walks around. The silence at Irène’s intrigues him. Could they have gone inside without his noticing? He approaches the hedge. A few lanterns on a table, a bottle of wine. Then a moan; he sees the two silhouettes on the lounge chair near the hedge. He moves away and goes up to his office.