Betty Blue

by Philippe Djian

  Betty Blue

  Philippe Djian

  Djian's five novels have won acclaim in Europe, and the present one was a bestseller later adapted into an offbeat film. It's not likely, however, that this tedious and melodramatic on-the-road novel of the most formless kind will have much impact here. The story revolves around the love affair between a drifter with an unpublished novel to his credit and a beautiful girl with itchy feet who, for no discernible reason (Djian doesn't seem to believe in reasons), goes from such eccentricities as pouring paint over a car and torching a house to self-destructive madness. Her passion-driven lover follows her from place to place (none identified), flattered by her faith in his literary talents and ready to try his hand at practically anything to keep the affair afloatplumbing, housepainting, pizza-making, selling pianos and, finally, armed robbery. The lovers fail to inspire credibility, or even interest, the events smack more of fantasy than reality and every so often the generally sloppy prose sinks to the level of "A smile spread over her face like an atomic bomb." Here is one disciple Kerouac would have disclaimed.

  Philippe Djian

  Betty Blue

  Translated from the French by Howard Buten

  1

  They were predicting storms for the end of the day but the sky stayed blue and the wind died down. I went to take a look in the kitchen-make sure things weren’t getting clogged up in the bottom of the pot. Everything was just fine. I went out onto the porch armed with a cold beer and stayed there for a while, my face in the sun. It felt good. It had been a week now that I’d been spending my mornings in the sun, squinting like some happy idiot-a week now since I’d met Betty.

  I thanked my lucky stars again and reached for my chaise longue, grinning. I lay down comfortably, like somebody with time on his hands and a beer in his fist. I hadn’t slept more than twenty hours all week and Betty had slept less-maybe not at all, who knows? She was always shaking me, always thinking there was something better we should be doing: Hey, you’re not going to leave me alone here, she’d say. What do you think you’re doing? Wake up! I would open my eyes and smile. Smoke a cigarette. Fuck. Talk. I did my best to keep up with her.

  Luckily my job wasn’t too tiring. When everything was going well I’d finish work around noon and have the rest of the day to myself. All I had to do was stay around the complex till seven-be available if somebody needed me. When it was nice out you could just find me in my chaise longue. I stayed glued to it for hours. I thought I’d struck a good balance between life and death-found the only intelligent thing to do, when you stop to think about it. Life doesn’t have much to offer outside of a few things that aren’t for sale. I opened my beer and thought about Betty. “For God’s sake, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  I opened my eyes. It was the lady from number three, an eighty-pound blonde with a squeaky voice. Her false eyelashes were twinkling like crazy in the light.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “How should I know, for God’s sake? There’s this thing overflowing in the bathroom. You better come stop it right away! I’ll never understand how things like this happen…”

  I sat up quickly. I was not amused. Look at this woman for three seconds and you can tell she’s nuts. I knew she was going to drive me crazy, too. Her bathrobe was sliding all over her dried-out shoulders. I got wasted just looking at her.

  “I was about to eat,” I said. “Can’t this wait live minutes? Be nice and just…”

  “Are you kidding? This is a disaster! There’s water all over the place! Hurry up, come with me…”

  “Hold on. First tell me exactly what broke. What’s overflowing?”

  She giggled in the sunlight, her hands shoved in her pockets.

  “Well, you know… it’s the… the white thing that’s overflowing. For God’s sake there are little shreds of paper all over the place!”

  I took a swallow of beer and shook my head.

  “Look,” I said. “Don’t you understand? I was just sitting down to eat. Can’t you just close your eyes for fifteen minutes? Is that too much to ask?”

  “Are you crazy or what? I’m not kidding, you better come right away!”

  “Oh, all right. Take it easy,” I said.

  I went into the house and turned the fire off under the beans.

  They were just getting done. Then I grabbed my toolbox and started off after the madwoman.

  I got back an hour later, soaked from head to foot and half-dead from hunger. I lit a match under the saucepan and jumped into the shower and stopped thinking about her. I felt the water run over my skull and the smell of beans slide under my nose.

  Sunlight flooded the house. It was nice out. I knew that my problems were over for the day. I’d never seen a toilet clog up in the afternoon. Most of the time it was calm; half the bungalows were empty. I sat down to eat, smiling. My schedule was all fixed: eat, then navigate out onto the porch and wait there till evening. Wait until she came, her hips swaying, to sit on my lap.

  I was lifting the lid on the saucepan when the door swung wide open. It was Betty. I put my fork down, smiling, and stood up. “Betty!” I said. “Jesus… you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in broad daylight…”

  She sort of struck a pose, one hand in her hair, her curls tumbling down on all sides.

  “So what do you think?” she asked.

  I sat back down and looked at her, acting detached, one arm slung over the back of the chair.

  “Well, the hips aren’t bad, and the legs aren’t bad either… yeah, turn around…”

  She turned around. I stood up and pressed myself into her back. I stroked her chest and kissed her neck.

  “But this…” I whispered. “This is perfect.”

  I wondered what she was doing here at this time of day. I stepped inside, then spotted the two canvas suitcases sitting on the doorstep. I didn’t say anything.

  “It smells good in here,” she said.

  She leaned over the table to look in the saucepan.

  “Oh God, I don’t believe it!”

  “What are you talking a-”

  “It’s chili! Don’t tell me you were going to eat all this chili by yourself.”

  While she was dipping two fingers into the pot I got two beers out of the fridge. I thought about all the hours we had ahead of us-it was like swallowing opium.

  “Oh Lord, it’s fabulous. And you made it yourself! I love it, it’s incredible! But in this heat-you must be nuts…”

  “I can eat chili in any weather, even with the sweat running onto the plate. Me and chili-we’re like two pieces of bread in a sandwich.”

  “Me too. Anyway, I’m so hungry I could…”

  The second she’d walked through the door the house had changed. I couldn’t find anything anymore. I walked around in circles looking for silverware, opening up cabinets and smiling. She came and put her arms around my neck. I loved it. I could smell her hair.

  “Hey, you happy to see me?” she said.

  “Well, let me think it about it…”

  “You’re all bastards…I’ll explain later.”

  “Betty, is something wrong?”

  “Nothing too serious,” she said. “Nothing worth letting the chili get cold over. Kiss me.”

  By the time I’d had two or three spoonfuls of those spicy beans I’d forgotten all about it. Betty’s presence had made me euphoric-she laughed all the time, she complimented me on my beans, she made my beer foam, she reached out across the table and caressed my cheek. I didn’t know yet how she could go from one mood to another with the speed of light.

  We were just finishing lunch-it was delicious-having a nice time gulping it down, winking at each other and joking around. I was looking at her, Ending her
so wonderful, when all of a sudden she changed before my eyes. She turned completely white and her eyes got incredibly hard. It took my breath away.

  “Like I was saying… she began. “They’re all bastards. Sooner or later it’s always the same-I find myself with my suitcases in my hands. You get the picture?”

  “What are you talking about?” I said.

  “What do you mean what am I talking about? Are you listening to me? I’m trying to explain something to you! Why aren’t you listening to me?”

  I didn’t answer. I went to touch her arm. She pulled away.

  “Let’s get something straight,” she said. “I’m not looking for a guy who just wants to fuck.”

  “I see,” I said.

  She ran a hand through her hair, sighing, and looked out the window. Nothing moved outside-just a few houses sprinkled with sunlight and the road going straight across the countryside into the hills.

  “When I think that I stayed a year in that dump…” she muttered. She stared into space, her hands squeezed between her legs, her shoulders hunched over as if she suddenly felt very tired. I’d never seen her like that. All I knew was her laughter. I’d always thought that she could stand up to anything. I asked myself what this was all about.

  “A year,” she went on. “And every godforsaken day that bastard never stopped ogling me, his wife screaming from morning to night. I worked there for a year. I waited on customers, wiped the tables, swept the floor, and look where it got me. The boss runs his hand up my crotch and everything is back to square one. Me and my two suitcases. I’ve got just enough left to last me a few days, or buy myself a train ticket.”

  She shook her head for a long time, then looked up at me and smiled. I recognized her again.

  “That’s not even the punch line,” she said. “I don’t even have anywhere to sleep. I got my things together in a hurry-the other girls stared at me with bug eyes. ‘I’m not staying here one more minute!’ I told them. ‘I can’t stand the sight of that bastard’s face one more second!’ “

  I opened a beer on the edge of the table.

  “Well, I’ll tell you…You’re right,” I said. “I think you’re a hundred percent right.”

  Her eyes sparkled at me. I felt her coming back to life-felt it grab her around the waist and shake her. Her long hair billowed over the table.

  “Yeah, somehow that guy must have got it in his head that I belonged to him. You know the type…”

  “Yeah, sure, I know. Believe me, I know…”

  “Yeah. I think they all go crazy after a certain age.”

  We cleared the table and I took the two suitcases inside. She started doing the dishes-I could see the water squirting in front of her. She reminded me of some strange flower equipped with translucent antennas and a violet Naugahyde core. I didn’t know many girls who could get away with wearing that color miniskirt so carelessly. I tossed the suitcases on the bed.

  “You know, when you think about it,” I said, “it’s not bad, what’s happening to us…”

  “Yeah? You think so?”

  “Yeah. Usually I can’t stand people, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  The next day she was up before me. It had been such a long time since I’d had breakfast with someone, I’d forgotten what it was like. I got up and got dressed without saying a word. I slipped behind her and kissed her neck. I sat down in front of my coffee cup. She was buttering bread wide as water skis, rolling her eyes, and I couldn’t keep from smiling. The day was off to a really good start.

  “Okay, I’m going to try to get through with work as soon as I can,” I said. “I’ve got to go into town for a minute, you want to come?”

  She glanced around the house and shook her head.

  “No, I think I better try to straighten up a little around here. It really needs it…”

  So I left her there and went to get the truck out of the garage.

  I parked in front of the entrance, by the guard house. George was half asleep, a newspaper on his stomach. I went in behind him and grabbed the laundry bag.

  “Oh, it’s you,” he said.

  He grabbed one too and followed me out, yawning. We threw the bags in the back of the truck and went back for the others.

  “I saw that girl again yesterday,” he said.

  I hauled a bag, not answering.

  “It’s you she was looking for, right?”

  He was dragging his heels. The sun was starting to beat down hard.

  “A girl in a little violet skirt and lots of black hair,” he added.

  lust then Betty came out of the house and ran toward us. We watched her come.

  “You mean a girl like that?” I said.

  “Jesus H. Christ” he said.

  “Well, you’re exactly right. It was me she was looking for.”

  I introduced them, and while the old man was doing his Romeo number, I went back and got the shopping list. I shoved it in my pocket and went back to the car, lighting up my first cigarette of the day. Betty was sitting in the passenger seat, talking to George through the window. I walked around and slid in behind the wheel.

  “On second thought,” she said, “I decided to come along for the ride.”

  I slipped my arm around her shoulder and pulled away slowly, trying to make the pleasure last. She handed me a stick of mint chewing gum, throwing the wrappers on the floor. She squeezed herself against me the whole way. I didn’t need a fortune-teller to see how terrific it all was.

  First we got rid of the laundry and then I went across the street with the shopping list. The guy at the store was busy pasting labels all over the place, so I just slid the paper in his pocket.

  “Take your time,” I said. “I’ll come back later. Don’t forget my bottle.”

  He stood up too fast and smashed his head into a shelf. He made a face-he was ugly enough without it.

  “We said a bottle every other week, not every week,” he said.

  “Right, but it turns out I had to take on an associate. That changes things.”

  “What are you talking about?”‘

  “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t change anything between you and me. I’ll keep doing my shopping here as long as you show some smarts.”

  “Jesus, one every week, though. That’s a little-”

  “Things are tough all over.”

  Just then he noticed Betty in her little tank top waiting for me out in the truck, her crazy earrings twinkling in the light. He played around for a second with the lump on his skull, then shook his head.

  “I know things are tough all over, but I think some bastards make out better than others.”

  I didn`t think I was in a good position to argue. I left him standing in the middle of his boxes and went back out to the car.

  “Okay, well, we have a little time,” I said. “How would you feel about some ice cream?”

  “Jesus, Mary, and joseph, I’m with you!”

  ***

  I knew the old lady at the ice cream place pretty well. I was one of her best customers in the liquor-topped-sundae department. She usually left the bottle on the counter. I made conversation with her. I waved when we came in. Betty sat at a table and I went up to order.

  “I think that’ll be two peach sherbets,” I said.

  I went behind the counter to give her a hand. She stuck her arms down into the steaming freezer and I took out two parfait glasses that held about a quart each. I went down into the cupboard looking for the jar of peaches.

  “Hey,” she said. “A little excited today, aren’t we?”

  I straightened up and took a look at Betty sitting there with her legs crossed, a cigarette in her mouth.

  “What do you think of her?” I asked.

  “A bit vulgar…”

  I took the bottle of maraschino and sprinkled it on the sherbet.

  “That’s understandable,” I said. “She’s an angel, straight from heaven. Can’t you see…?”

  On the way back we stopped
to get the laundry, and I went across the street to pick up the groceries. It must have been about noon-it was starting to get really hot out. We had no time to lose, getting back.

  I spotted my bottle right off. He’d left it there in plain sight, in front of the bags. It was not exactly service with a smile-in fact it was hardly service at all. I made off with my bags and bottle.

  “You sulking?” I asked him, on the way out.

  He didn’t even look at me.

  “Too bad,” I said. “You’re the only black spot in my whole day.”

  I shoved everything in the back of the truck and steered toward the motel. At the edge of town, a hot wind started blasting. The whole area suddenly looked like a desert-wilted plants and long shadows. I liked it. I liked the color of the dirt, and I’ve always had a thing for large, lonely spaces. We rolled up the windows. I had my foot to the floor, but the car would do only forty-five, what with the head wind. After a while, Betty turned to look out the back. Her hair must have made her hot-she kept lifting it up all the time.

  “You know what?” she said. “With this little truck and all that food, two people could go just about anywhere?

  Twenty years earlier, the idea would have set me on fire. Now, it was all I could do to keep from yawning.

  “Right, a whirlwind tour,” I said.

  “Yeah! We could blow this pop stand…!”

  I lit a cigarette and crossed my hands on the wheel.

  “It’s funny,” I said. “But I don’t think the scenery around here is so ugly…”

  She threw her head back, laughing.

  “Shit, you call this scenery?”

  You could hear the dust flying against the chassis, swirling wildly in the wind. Outside things were burning. I started laughing too.

  That evening the wind died down all of a sudden and the air got very heavy. We took the bottle out on the porch and waited for the night to cool off a little, but nothing changed, not even after the stars came out-not one little breeze. Still, I have to say it was all just fine with me. My only real complaint had been the immobility, but I was getting used to it. The past five years had given me time to figure out ways of dealing with the heat. It was different now with a girl around-there were other things to do than lie still and wait for it to blow over.