Strike Your Heart

by Amélie Nothomb

  “You look like a zombie. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Diane explained her professional situation. Élisabeth frowned.

  “I hope she’s paying you?”

  “Of course she is. With money she’s always been above board.”

  “So there are areas where she is less so?”

  “What are you insinuating?”

  “Don’t you think she’s using you?”

  “No. She didn’t want to become a full professor. I’m the one who persuaded her to apply for her habilitation. I had to insist.”

  “Sure. And now she’s so unhappy to be a full professor.”

  “Of course she’s happy. That’s natural. You can’t criticize her for that.”

  “I’m not criticizing her. I just think it probably wasn’t that difficult to persuade her to apply.”

  Diane thought she had a point.

  “Why are you here, in fact? You didn’t come all this way just to check whether I was alive?”

  “I came to invite you to my wedding,” declared Élisabeth.

  “What?”

  “Here’s a quiz for you: who am I marrying?”

  “No idea.”

  “Your best friend is getting married and you don’t even know who the groom is. Bravo.”

  “I know, I’ve been distant over these last months, I’m sorry.”

  “Over these last years, you mean. I warn you, I’m not like your brother: I won’t allow you not to come to my wedding.”

  “Who’s the lucky man?”

  “I won’t tell you. That way you’ll have to come. I’ll leave you in suspense for now.”

  “Not my brother, I hope?”

  “Are you crazy? In case you’d forgotten, he’s already married.”

  “Maybe he got divorced in the meantime.”

  “You’ve broken off with everyone, apparently. Shall I invite Olivia?”

  “No. Why?”

  “The polite thing is to invite both partners in a couple.”

  “I already told you, we’re not a couple.”

  “Things may have changed. In any case, if you’re not in a couple with her, you’re not in a couple with anyone.”

  “If that’s what you wanted to know, all you had to do was ask.”

  “You’ve become so prickly! Listen, the wedding is on March 30. If you’re not there, I will come and get you. You can’t get out of it.”

  March 30 seemed a long way away. But the months went by incredibly quickly. She worked so hard that time no longer had any pulp. All that remained of each day was its core, and it was not she who was biting away the flesh.

  One morning in January she realized she was twenty-eight years old. “And if I was forty-six, what difference would it make?” she thought, apathetically.

  At that rate, March 30 was approaching fast. On the fateful day she realized she had nothing to wear. In her wardrobe she found a matching skirt and top. The clothes were so loose on her it was a pitiful sight, but at least they were elegant. I don’t care, she thought. What does bother me is that I’m going to waste a few hours when I could be working.

  Magnificent in her white tailleur, Élisabeth introduced her husband, a certain Philippe, who seemed likeable enough (at least the suspense was worth it, she thought). Monsieur and Madame Second were delighted to see Diane again; she was surprised to feel so emotional on seeing them. It reminded her of a page in her life she thought she had turned forever.

  On her way to get a glass of champagne, she was astonished to see Olivia in the crowd of guests: she had clearly come straight from the hairdresser’s and was eagerly joining in the small talk.

  Diane hurried over to Élisabeth to ask why she had invited her. Élisabeth replied that she had sent her an invitation as a matter of form, and she was surprised when Olivia immediately accepted.

  “I invited her with her husband, and he’s here, too. Is that a problem for you?”

  “No.”

  It was all the less of a problem in that Olivia had not noticed her presence. “So this is how she spends her time on research. And this is why I have to assume responsibility for half of her classes,” thought Diane. But, she could not help but feel enchanted. Where was the austere woman she had met three years earlier? Olivia’s outfit was exquisite, and the slightest thing made her burst out laughing. Men and women alike only had eyes for her. “Where has all her stiffness gone?” wondered Diane.

  Alas, she knew the answer. As she was putting on her makeup for the wedding, she had been struck by the dryness of her face. It was worse than thinness. What she had lost was grace, and it was grace she now saw radiating from Olivia.

  For a split second she had been pleased to see how beautiful her former friend had become. But all at once she felt her soul split in two and open onto an abyss, and she knew that her entire self would be sucked into it, so powerful was the lure of that bottomless pain.

  “There’s no way. I cannot capitulate to this degree,” she reasoned. She had to look elsewhere, urgently. A bit further along she saw Stanislas, lost in the contemplation of his glass of fruit juice. She thought that Mariel would be alone at home, and Diane had only one desire, to go and be with her, and get away from this masquerade.

  Manifestly, this was not the case for Olivia. Not looking at her, Diane inched closer to hear what she was saying: “ . . . your son, yes, I know exactly, Maxime, a very bright young man. It’s a pleasure to teach him.” Diane had to hold back her laughter, because Olivia never memorized her students’ first names. And then, “Yes indeed, I’ve been teaching at the university for over twenty years. You wouldn’t know? How kind of you! To be honest, I work so hard I don’t have time to get old!” You bloody hypocrite, snickered Diane. With relief she felt that the abyss in her soul had closed.

  “This champagne is exquisite!” she heard. “Is it Deutz? Ah yes, I’d know it anywhere. I always say that the purpose of life is to drink fine champagne.” Now it was all Diane could do not to burst out laughing. Olivia avoided champagne like the plague: she was afraid it would make her lose her self-control. Diane could not help but glance at Olivia’s glass: it was almost full.

  “Can’t you look at someone else?” said Élisabeth.

  “I asked you not to invite her.”

  “I’m not sorry I disobeyed you. It has allowed me to assess the gravity of the situation.”

  “Have you finished judging me?”

  “I’m not judging you. I’m concerned. You are drifting into a horrible situation. Believe me, do what you can to stop seeing that woman. Well well, speak of the devil.”

  Olivia was coming toward them to congratulate the bride, and she pretended to suddenly notice Diane’s presence.

  “What? So it’s you, this lovely coat hanger?”

  “Research suits you, you look splendid,” Diane replied.

  “Yes, it’s quite clear that you have had precious help,” added Élisabeth.

  Sensing that the situation was not in her favor, Olivia smiled and allowed herself to be lured away by one of the many guests who wanted to speak to her.

  “She’s so full of herself!” said Élisabeth.

  “She wasn’t like that when I met her.”

  “Will you stop making excuses for her? She’s revolting! Just look at how she’s jabbering on and blowing her own trumpet: you went to so much trouble so she could become a full professor, and now she uses it to prance around in high society. Now I order you to go and stuff yourself with petit fours. It distresses me how thin you are.”

  I’m sorry about the other day,” said Olivia to Diane, one evening when she had come to take care of Mariel.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “At your friend’s wedding. I was absurdly unpleasant to you. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “I’ve already forgotten it.”

  “So much the better. You mean a great deal to me, you know. Which reminds me, I have a suggestion to make.”

  Here we go, thou
ght Diane, dreading yet more work.

  “I would like to use tu with you,” said Olivia with a smile.

  This was so unexpected that Diane opened her eyes wide. She was touched, and eventually agreed.

  “Is that all right? Oh, this makes me so happy. It’s so much more congenial.”

  “You’ll have to bear with me,” Diane implored. “I’ll probably get it wrong half the time.”

  “No problem. We should have begun saying tu a long time ago. I thought of it now because I heard Mariel saying tu to you.”

  Diane suddenly felt enraged. I should have known, she thought, how could I have thought this was a sign of friendship, when it was only jealousy toward her daughter?

  She went on to bitterly regret this new familiarity. Abandoning the use of vous meant that Olivia now left off any last traces of respect she might still have shown her. Formerly she would say: “Excuse me, have you finished correcting the mid-term exams?” Now this was reduced to: “Right, are those corrections done?”

  The most notable absentee from the whole experience of saying tu was the tu herself. Olivia was not even addressing a person anymore.

  Diane gathered all her remaining courage to inform Olivia that she could no longer teach half her classes.

  “My dissertation defense is in September. I’m nowhere near ready.”

  Olivia could not see the inconvenience—after all, it was only April.

  “I’ll help you,” she said.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “I can share with you the tricks I’ve learned,” Olivia insisted.

  And why not, after all? thought Diane.

  Olivia’s devotion astonished her. Instead of going on vacation, she spent all summer with her. She gave her quite clever advice. Nothing fundamental, but it could turn out to be useful.

  One week before her defense, Diane ordered Olivia to go spend a few days in the sun.

  “You’ve done enough for me. I’ll take care of Stanislas and Mariel.”

  “Thank you for looking after the children,” said Olivia with a laugh.

  The day before Olivia was due back, Diane tidied up the Aubusson apartment. She happened upon a large manila envelope that had not been sealed, and without thinking she checked the contents. They were the corrected galleys of an article Olivia had written. The article was based on the most personal and brilliant aspects of Diane’s dissertation; her name did not appear once in any of the footnotes.

  She put the sheets back in the envelope, sat down, and thought.

  “I am not going to compromise my future because of this monster. She’s a member my thesis defense jury. I’ll grit my teeth until tomorrow. Then I’ll break off with no explanation. Otherwise I’ll end up killing her.”

  Breaking off with Olivia meant breaking off with Mariel. The prospect grieved her, but that would still be better than killing the girl’s mother.

  That evening, when she tucked Mariel in, she kissed her more tenderly than usual.

  “Sleep well, my darling,” she said, closing the door behind her.

  She went over her dissertation one last time then went to bed. Astonished by her own coldness, she drifted off.

  On D-day, she went to pick Olivia up at the station.

  “Shouldn’t you be cramming?”

  “I know everything by heart. You look great.”

  The defense began that afternoon. Conscious of the degree of hatred she had attained, Diane exerted more self-control than ever. She didn’t need to look at her notes even once. When she began developing the topic on which Olivia had based her article, she turned to her in particular. Olivia did not stop beaming with pride for one moment, as if she were the source of such excellence.

  The two other members of the jury asked a few questions. Diane gave brilliant answers then thanked the professors for the “considerable help” they had given her. The jurors withdrew to deliberate and returned before long. Diane was awarded her degree with the congratulations of the jury.

  Olivia invited her to come over to celebrate. Diane said she would rather have dinner with her at their brasserie, like in the good old days.

  Delighted to see them again, the waiters automatically brought them two salads and a bottle of mineral water. While she ate, Olivia complimented Diane on the quality of her defense.

  “I already knew you were good at oral exams, but there, you really impressed me.”

  You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, thought Diane, thanking her.

  When the last lettuce leaf had been ingested, Diane said she had something to tell her.

  “I’m listening,” said Olivia.

  “I’m leaving the university.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You heard me.”

  “You can’t do this to me.”

  “It has nothing to do with you. My intention has always been to work with patients, not teach.”

  “But you’re such a divine teacher!”

  “Even if that were the case, it would change nothing.”

  “And you come and tell me this abominable news right after your defense?”

  “Why are you so shocked? Would you actually have penalized me if I’d told you before?”

  In Olivia’s eyes she read, “You’re making fun of me! Damn right I would have penalized you!” She pretended she hadn’t noticed.

  “And how will I manage without you?” said Olivia indignantly.

  “It’s sweet of you to say that,” said Diane, pretending to misconstrue her meaning. “You don’t need me.”

  “Of course I do! Where will I find the time to devote to research!”

  “You’ve made a lot of headway with your research over the last months.”

  “I see. You’ve been going through my things!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Stupid fool. That’s the way researchers have always done things! If you’re bothered by something so trivial, it means you just don’t have a clue.”

  “What on earth you are talking about?”

  “That’s it, go on acting all innocent. You’ll see what’s in store for you: patients. Patients are the dregs of humanity. You’ll miss your students, girl.”

  “I’ll miss the professors more than anything.”

  “Laugh it off, dear, laugh it off. In the university, life is imbued with intelligence. You’ll see what it’s like, dealing with heart patients: nine times out of ten, the pathology is caused by excess fat, and the treatment means putting the patient on a diet. When you tell them to stop eating butter, they’ll look at you as if you were a murderer. When they come back three months later and you’re surprised there’s been no change, they will tell you a blatant lie: ‘Doctor, I don’t understand, I followed all your recommendations.’ When we opt for cardiology and research, we opt for nobility; when we practice as doctors, all we do is treat pigs.”

  “I don’t mind being a vet,” said Diane with a smile.

  “How can you forsake your intelligence—someone like you who is allergic to stupidity?”

  “It’s not only stupidity I’m allergic to.”

  “Go on then, out with it.”

  “You already know.”

  “I know what you blame me for more than anything: you think I’m a bad mother. What right do you have to judge me? We’ll see what sort of mother you turn out to be, if, like me, you’re unlucky enough to have a kid who’s not as smart as you.”

  “I won’t be a mother.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do.”

  “Well, I can see what you mean. When I met you, you were as pretty as a picture. Now what’s left of all your splendor? Who’d even look at you, now?”

  Staggered by her harsh, treacherous words, Diane stood up and walked out. She heard one last cry of rage:

  “Don’t ever come to my house again, you’re not welcome! You’ll never see Mariel again!”

  That’s the one sad note, she thought.

  That
night, on going to bed, she knew she wouldn’t sleep. She was proud she’d done what she had to do, but for all that, she was deeply unsettled by how angry Olivia had been.

  She had always thought that Olivia’s contempt stemmed from her dealings with individuals who were worthy of it, such as those influential muck-a-mucks whose failings she had justly railed against before the doors of the academic establishment opened to her and she became their best friend. But now Diane understood that it was in this woman’s nature to look down on others. She was a scornful person, she sought out objects of contempt and found them easily: anyone naïve or sickly, even her own daughter. And me too, no doubt, from now on, she thought.

  “Be sparing with your contempt, there are many who need it.” Olivia did not need to obey Chateaubriand’s wonderful precept, because she had contempt to spare. She could dole it out, lavishly, and always have some left over.

  The rewards of contempt include the feeling of superiority vis-à-vis its object. Therefore Olivia did not deprive herself of any opportunity to indulge in it. Yet to feel such a need implied that what separated her from those she looked down on was flimsy indeed, as illustrated by her attitude toward the top academics. Did the same apply to her attitude toward those who had weak hearts?

  Diane recalled a conversation they’d had over a year earlier, which at the time had seemed unimportant. She had asked the woman, who was still her friend at the time, whether she had a history of heart trouble, given how carefully she watched what she ate.

  “No. But I want to stay slim,” she replied.

  “It doesn’t seem to me that you would ever put on weight.”

  “Before my daughter’s birth, I could eat as much as I liked. But now I put on weight with the least little thing.”

  Diane recalled the bitterness in her voice. Might this be one explanation for her loathing for Mariel?

  If only it had been no more than hatred! It now seemed to Diane that contempt was worse than hatred. Hatred is close to love, whereas contempt is completely foreign to it. At least my mother never looked down on me like that, she thought. She trembled at the thought of Mariel’s fate.

  The morning after that sleepless night Diane saw she had a message in her inbox from Olivia. “To think I’m the one who taught her how to use the internet!” And she was the one, too, who had shown her how to check whether her message had been read. Diane decided not to read this final message. She knew Olivia well enough to be certain that it would make her explode.