Marlene

by Philippe Djian

  He scrubbed the living room top to bottom, suddenly overtaken by a kind of frenzy, on all fours or up on a ladder to track down the last trace of soot, the smallest mote of dust, scraping at microscopic stains until he’d worn down his nails.

  Evening found him on the floor, exhausted, sitting against the wall facing the wide-open windows, through which came the cool breeze of dusk and its brilliant colors that made him squint. He raised a hand to shield his eyes and slowly rolled onto his side. He felt better, pretty beat but back on the ground, in a clean house, a living room that shone like a new penny. He could finally take a shower and pour himself a drink to relieve the stress of that trying day.

  Once again, he was in his underpants when the telephone rang.

  Yes, Marlene, I’m fine. I was about to take a shower.

  Dan, I’ve felt rotten all day.

  Shit, I hope I didn’t give you my germs.

  I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.

  No, I don’t have anything of note to report. It’s not like we haven’t seen each other in six months.

  Is it Richard.

  No, why.

  I don’t know. The kinds of things you men say to each other. Anyway, you know better than I do.

  What could he possibly have told me. No, I can’t think of anything. I have no secrets from you, Marlene.

  Dan, if I lost you, I don’t know what I’d do.

  I’m not going to die, don’t worry. It’s not Ebola.

  What if I came over and stayed outside. We could talk through the window. I really need to.

  But aren’t we talking now. Listen, I can’t stand in front of a drafty window.

  He heard her breathing heavily at the other end of town.

  It didn’t leave him indifferent, but he could take it.

  You just have to be patient, he told her.

  I can’t go home to an empty house. I feel like it’s hard to breathe.

  Go get a change of scenery. Invite your sister for a walk.

  Go to the movies, I don’t know.

  She never has time. As soon as she has a free minute, she’s off with her boyfriend.

  Wait, are you kidding me. Tell me you’re joking.

  She’s lucky, at least.

  He didn’t answer. He’d had quite enough of women for one day. He wondered if that’s what it meant to be a misogynist. If they needed to gang up in threes to trample him.

  Mona committed suicide that night, but they didn’t find her until the following evening, at the bottom of the pond, a hundred yards from the old wind pump. Despite her time in the water, they established that she had at least six grams of alcohol in her bloodstream and that half the pills she’d swallowed were not yet absorbed at the time of death, which was ruled by drowning.

  Dan awoke with a start, yanked out of one of his habitual nightmares, and what Richard told him was worse than even the grisliest of them. Cold sweat enveloped him. He bounded out of bed in the dark and remained standing, one hand resting on the wall, short of breath, while Richard mumbled some more strangled words that he didn’t really hear about the discovery of the body.

  Ten minutes later, he arrived at their house, unsteady on his feet. Nath must have taken tranquilizers, as she couldn’t get out of her chair, and so he hugged Richard first. The pain was enormous, the shock complete, the horror. He helped Nath stand up and she sobbed into his neck for long minutes—sometimes she stamped her foot on the floor and wailed.

  She called Marlene and left a message. Then she went to the window and smoked a cigarette, still weeping silently.

  He stepped outside; it was unbearable.

  And this was only the start of several nightmarish days until the burial. It began with a weird clash involving Marlene. When she arrived, distraught, Richard laid into her, shouting about the bad influence she’d had on his daughter, and when she asked what he meant by that, he stood mute, then went out slamming the door.

  Nath and Dan were dumbstruck. It really wasn’t the time for that.

  He caught up with her and they walked; he explained that Richard was beside himself with grief, that she shouldn’t judge him too harshly. She stopped short, in tears.

  And what about you. What’s your excuse, she yelled, almost bawling.

  Oh, come on, I can’t think about all that, I’m in no shape for it, he snapped. I’m devastated.

  When her body was laid out, Dan couldn’t look at her.

  He helped Nath pack up her daughter’s things in boxes that they stored in the garage. One evening, Richard took part in a race that nearly ended in disaster, so badly did he hurt. He lost several pounds in just a few days.

  He got drunk two nights in a row, and the morning of the burial he nearly strangled Marlene against Mona’s coffin, he completely lost it, and Dan could barely force him back down into his seat. He, too, was torn apart; he too would have liked to strangle someone.

  Perhaps himself, for starters. Or else plant a knife in his heart for the part he’d played in this tragedy. To think about it was dreadful. His own life wasn’t worth much, and anyway he no longer expected anything from it, but it was Mona’s that had been taken, and that was intolerable. Sometimes he had to sit down, it didn’t matter where he was, and he cradled his head in his hands, moaning.

  Marlene was wrong to hover around him right now, he couldn’t take care of her, he didn’t really see her, he didn’t need to feel her nearby. Especially given that business with Richard, who’d got it into his head that Marlene was evil, so to make matters worse there was no way for them to be in the same space. Teetering on the edge of a precipice must have felt like this. A mix of affliction and madness.

  He could barely eat anything, nothing would go down, and his morning exercises suffered for it. Despite what Marlene said, what he needed wasn’t a good thick steak. He even tried kneeling in church and waiting, but not much came of it.

  The little energy left to him he devoted to Richard, who split his time between picking fights, brooding, and tallying the day’s earnings before rolling up the coins in a deathly silence.

  Dan gave him as much time as possible, as the episode at the burial had been worrisome, his explosion of fury against Marlene staggering; Richard could get out of control, go crazy. He knew what that was like. He’d seen it in action.

  But what do you think about it, Marlene asked him as he was buying flowers for Mona.

  Pestered by a bee, he grimaced. Listen, he answered, I haven’t had time to wonder about it.

  You think I’ve slept with half the town, is that it. You believe everything he tells you, am I right.

  I can’t talk about that now, Marlene. I’m sorry, it’s not penetrating my brain. It’s all muddled up, all of that got swept away, I’m sorry. I really loved her and I can’t get over this. I haven’t even been able to tell my mother what happened.

  Now that they were kissing only on the cheek, she stood stiff as a pike when he leaned toward her to say goodbye. She remained there an instant without moving as he turned away. She measured the distance they’d fallen just as they were reaching the summit. They’d been struck by lightning and had tumbled even below base camp.

  Nath hadn’t been back to work in several days and Marlene was overwhelmed. When Vincent burst into the salon, she was on tiptoes, busily inspecting the ears of a Doberman that was standing on the grooming table. She didn’t wait for him to open his mouth, but announced that Nath had just lost her daughter in an accident, which no doubt answered most of his questions.

  He flinched at the news.

  Can I do anything to help, he finally asked.

  No, I don’t think so. My advice is to stay away. Her husband is kind of a psychopath, and I’m not just saying that. Yemen, Afghanistan, Iraq, the whole nine yards.

  Yeah, well, I’m a black belt in judo.

/>   That’s better than nothing, I guess—you don’t get hurt as badly when you fall.

  Evenings, she dined alone. She ate what was lying around or ordered a pizza that lasted her two days. She ate by herself because Dan flatly refused to leave Richard and Nath alone together, judging that they’d never make it. He didn’t wonder how Marlene was going to make it, and she came to the conclusion that either he just didn’t care enough about her or he was really stupid. Possibly both.

  Generally, the second day’s pizza went straight into the trash and she ate an expired yogurt with stale muesli.

  Dan thought the same thing. That he’d rather be alone and that he’d been stupid. The failure of his attempt with Marlene was a reminder that he’d been wrong to deviate from his path, chase after a mirage. But the mirage wouldn’t go away. Not a day went by when she didn’t give him some kind of reminder. She didn’t exert much pressure, either—which in itself could prove worrisome, for different reasons—but she was there, somewhere in his frame of reference, never very far.

  He wasn’t lying when he told her he hadn’t been thinking about the problem. Whenever he tried to focus on it, his brain crashed, spun on empty, and it took him a moment before he could recover and go about his business, stricken by a passing dizzy spell.

  What’s with you, why are you always defending her, Richard grumbled, holding the ladder while he changed the last bulbs in the ceiling.

  I’m not defending her. I merely said that if you’re talking about bad influences, Marlene isn’t the only one around. Don’t dump it all on her.

  It’s just something I feel. I can’t explain. You could just trust me once in a while, you know. If I say it’s something I feel, it’s something I feel.

  All done. You can turn them on.

  Often it’s all in the lighting. Dan had given the place a once-over with the paint roller the night before while Richard shifted and rewired the machines. Two plastic rubber plants decorated the entrance; a few strings of lights, a water fountain, and new cushions for the seats completed the scene. They had worked hard.

  I added a dimmer for the spotlights. So what do you think.

  Richard nodded vaguely.

  You always end up paying for what you do, he said.

  Sooner or later.

  Dan was washing his hands. If only that was true, he answered, rubbing harder.

  The one respite he found was with Ralph, who was good-hearted enough to tell him reassuring and comforting things when it was all falling apart, when the shock waves were keeping them all prisoners.

  Fact is, Ralph concluded, if I had any advice for Marlene, I’d tell her to pack her bags and go back where she came from. It would be for the best. Richard would end up calming down. I know he’s been spoiling for trouble almost every night. It’s understandable. He probably doesn’t know how else to get it out of his system. Anyhow, if I were her, I wouldn’t go near a wounded animal.

  Yeah, but she’s not going to leave. I’d be surprised. She’s not even thinking about it, she’s standing firm, saying she’s got nothing to blame herself for. And the thing is, I kind of believe her. Richard’s got it wrong.

  Whether she’s lying or telling the truth, sighed Ralph, doesn’t change a thing. Richard’s not the kind of guy you can reason with. A real hothead, and you know it.

  Ralph wheeled his chair outside and showed the new loops his drone could do, making it flutter in the clear sky with a blissful smile on his face.

  Dan had the evening off, Nath and Richard having gone to the veterans’ raffle that pulled in half the town.

  Maybe his first moment of peace. He settled to one side of the house so as not to be visible should Marlene venture into the sector. And as night fell, he sat with his glass, watching the stars appear in the sky minute by minute, thinking of his final conversation with Mona, the awful row they’d had. It seemed so unfair. There should be a Trash function, like on a computer.

  He was riffling through his memories, bypassing his glass and drinking Three Rivers rum straight from the bottle, when the dentist appeared on his stoop.

  A bit chilly to be lounging on the lawn, isn’t it, the neighbor called out. But I imagine you’ve known worse.

  Surviving in extreme conditions. You veterans are really something, let me tell you. So, you’re not going to the raffle.

  No, I’ve got the flu. Enjoy yourself.

  Nothing serious, I hope.

  Nope, I’ve known worse.

  Alone again, he closed his eyes. He’d been weak enough to think that his return to civilian life could never be as hard as the hell he’d been through, but that only showed how naive he’d been. Had he found peace, forgetfulness, fulfillment. Had he even found rest, some decent sleep.

  Had he known boredom, the soothing and delicious boredom of a day that was banal, dreary, transparent, ordinary. No, obviously not, nothing of the kind. The journey aboard the ghost train never ended.

  He was considering extending his communion with the Three Rivers—although the alcohol was already fogging up his mind—when he sensed he was being watched.

  The night was silent and black, you couldn’t have seen a thing if not for the laborious clarity of an April moon that was in its last phase before total darkness. He stood up, examined his surroundings, and ended up noticing her.

  He leaned forward and looked again.

  She was standing facing him in the patio doorway, motionless, half concealed by sparse Thujas and again stark naked, pale as a candle, arms hanging, hair fallen to her shoulders. Not very sexy out of context, but put in perspective, she was dynamite.

  He got up without giving himself time to think. Nor, in truth, were his thoughts very clear. Screwing this woman went against every rule of good-neighborliness that he’d set for himself and it filled him with an unwholesome joy, like Mr. Hyde, thrilling to put in peril, before even laying a hand on her, everything he’d so patiently built up in hopes of joining the club.

  Strange woman. She barely said a word in all the time they were together. She probably had nothing to say, and so much the better. She grunted, hissed between her teeth, cried out when he penetrated her, let out a smattering of obscenities, but nothing that qualified as an actual conversation. Still, she didn’t remain passive, and he was surprised by her initiative, as he had imagined her stuck up, blushing at the drop of a hat.

  She bit, scratched, but within reasonable limits, unless in the heat of action he no longer felt pain. Or else she squeezed him in her arms like a woman possessed and knotted her legs around his loins and he didn’t know how to disengage himself other than putting a hand over her mouth as if he’d heard a noise. But there was one thing about which she seemed especially crazy, famished, to the point where it became touching, and that was French kissing. She didn’t want to let his mouth go, she remained glued to it, and that was the most astonishing part of all, to imagine that woman naked on top of him, a real sorceress, whereas she was thinking only of a long, ardent kiss.

  When they’d finished, he went back to his deck chair.

  Theoretically, he should have rushed to the shower, but he wanted to enjoy a bit more of that calm he needed so badly. The evening had grown cooler. He imagined the dentist with his raffle tickets. He leaned forward slightly to see if she was still there, but she had gone. It didn’t matter, he knew he hadn’t dreamed it. He’d just had his neighbor’s wife on the bathroom floor and that was the last thing he needed. Mona’s grave was still fresh, everything was falling to pieces, everyone was going nuts, and he could find nothing better to do. He snorted sadly. Tears still came to his eyes, without warning, without him even feeling them; people sometimes told him, Dan, did you know you’re crying, and he was the most surprised of all.

  The pink moon had paled. He wiped his eyes. He saw that Marlene had sent him a text, but he didn’t answer.

  Needless to say, she w
anted to know where he was, what he was up to, it didn’t vary much. He was lucky she had a job and her freedom was limited by her work hours, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to budge without running into her.

  The next day, as he was brushing his teeth, he spotted her on the stoop, waving to her husband. She was perfectly coiffed, ready to go, all prim and proper, distant, as she had always appeared to him—an illustration of the modern woman from out of a 1950s home journal, with her long immaculate skirts, no doubt starched, her buttoned blouses tight at the wrists, her flat shoes, her pearl necklace. They were predicting a bit of rain that day, but that didn’t prevent him from mounting his bike and speeding to the bowling alley before impure thoughts got the better of him. He didn’t even bother making his bed, something that hadn’t happened in years.

  At opening time, Marlene was pleasantly surprised to see Nath arriving, not looking very well but ready to get back to work. Marlene hugged her close and murmured some loving words in her ear. The poor woman was just a shadow of her former self, she had aged ten years in a week, lips gray, eyes dull, and the rain that started to fall, darkening the low sky, only made it worse.

  Nath didn’t know if she could get through this, and it wasn’t looking hopeful. She began by sitting down, shattered. She repeated that she didn’t for a second share Richard’s obsession about the bad influence her sister had had on Mona, but nothing could change his mind, he flew into a rage as soon as she put his word—his abominable accusation—in doubt; and she lived with him, he was all she had, she loved him and tried to avoid contradicting him so as not to aggravate the situation.

  Marlene reassured her, it wasn’t what Richard thought that counted, she didn’t give a hoot what he thought, he had always been distant with her, even acrimonious—and if there was one thing she really regretted, she added to herself, it was having slept with him. No, only Nath’s opinion mattered, the belief she had in her sister’s innocence, which Dan also shared. She bit her lip. And speaking of Dan, she continued, listen, there’s something I have to tell you.