Those two almost concomitant events were deeply disturbing to her. From that moment on, the complicit looks, unfinished sentences, and asides between mother and son irritated her to no end. She managed, nonetheless, to control herself and had concluded bitterly that the ship she’d embarked upon with the man whom she loved, and which she’d thought was solid, was beginning to capsize dangerously. It pained her greatly to hear that she’d given him a complex, having never, up to that point, lacked respect for him. Their professional situations were incomparable—he was a civil servant and she worked in a state-owned company—so his complex seemed unfounded, irrational, and at the same time threatening to their life as a couple.
Following that outburst, so typically male, Joseph became short-tempered, verbally abusive, and plain crude. He’d begun to drink excessively and refused to bring his wife to official ceremonies, and even to respond to their friends’ invitations. Married life quickly became unbearable. Eyang had had the decency not to blatantly take her son’s side. Confronted with this unbearable situation, Emilienne initiated a conversation with her husband one afternoon at siesta time.
“I find it deplorable that you’ve decided to turn to alcohol and odious behavior to prove your virility. And the idea of taking a second wife so that you can eclipse my social standing is ridiculous, because I do not think that I’ve used my superiority—and I don’t really like that word—to assert my authority in our relationship. It just so happens that I have a certain understanding of marriage, which I’ve defended since we were students. I need you, and if we ever separate, my social standing certainly will not fill the void of your absence. And if, without realizing it, I’ve made you feel that money was more important to me than you, I beg your forgiveness.”
On the other edge of the bed, Emilienne had started to cry. It was difficult to get out the words she’d prepared the night before. Swallowing her pride, she had felt the urgency to give some reassurance to her husband so that the potentially thickening cloud would dissipate.
Joseph, who had remained impassive from the beginning of his wife’s intended intervention, now drew her awkwardly toward him and uttered through his teeth:
“No man, not even the most liberal-minded, accepts being financially inferior to his wife. Of course, I’m not talking about those who have no sense of honor, those who have a bizarre liking for being on welfare. Now, don’t go thinking I’m jealous of you. When your company made you director of administrative affairs, I was very proud of you. As for me, I was hoping that my financial situation would quickly improve. You know better than anyone all the obstacles I’ve had to face. Not only did my application file disappear at the Ministry of Public Administration, but there was also the jealousy and numerous betrayals by some of my colleagues at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. How can a man put up with his partner being financially superior in such conditions and for an extended period of time, especially when those not so subtle friends harp on it every chance they get?”
Having to open up to his wife in that way seemed torturous for him, which, for Emilienne, proved his love for her. Throughout his speech, which was difficult for both of them to get through, he had not loosened his embrace.
“Tell me,” Emilienne spoke softly. “You still haven’t answered my question. I want to know if it is my social status that is making you want to take a second wife.”
“What gave you the idea that I want to become polygamous?” he snapped, moving brusquely away from his wife. “Are you listening through doors now? That does not sound like you at all.”
Emilienne, who had been seated for a long time on the bed, retorted:
“Stop dismissing me and trying to evade the question. Do you intend to bring a second wife to this house, because, as your mother said, I will not consent to it. Did you ever love me, Joseph?”
Her watery eyes desperately searched her husband’s averted, embarrassed gaze. She placed her hands over her face to hide the large tears flowing down her cheeks. Then, as if in an act of defiance, she suddenly raised her head and forced him to look her in the eye. Their breaths melded together then merged. They had become one . . .
“Of course I love you; I love you, I . . .”
Joseph’s last words died in Emilienne’s mouth. After several long minutes, which seemed very short to his wife, he pulled away from her gently:
“I promise not to leave you, whatever happens.”
That promise was not a promise, and had bothered Emilienne for a long time. It was only several years later that she realized he had not sworn his fidelity to her that day.
Even so, their reconciliation had brought them closer to one another, and for about a year they lived a sort of second honeymoon.
“HOW DID WE manage to grow more distant after having had that period of happiness?” the young woman wondered, melancholic, emerging from all those memories. “Now, he collects mistresses. They must change weekly, as routine as changing the sheets. Has he finally managed to get over my so-called social status by being with all those women, obviously chosen because they’re inferior to him, and next to whom he must really beam with pleasure? Unless these days his new professional duties are making him want to jump into bed with those other women. No, Joseph is no different from other men who cheat on their wives to forget their own problems or who use women to test their seductive power, or quite simply who are happy, and act out of capriciousness or subconsciously. So, when can they be faithful? Aren’t they all made to constantly slip through our fingers? As for us, Joseph and me, an abyss has come between us, which we may never again cross to get back together. When our daughter was still alive, we had a human being who belonged to both of us, as proof of the strength of our love. Even a lover couldn’t destroy the bond we had because of that child. A tender and affectionate look from her was enough to make us make up after our arguments. Her tears would shatter us and her joy would bring us happiness. Now, I have the feeling that when he looks at me he is faking, or else revealing his reproach and bitter regret. On those rare occasions when he smiles—he no longer knows how to laugh when he’s with me—it comes in the form of a slight, fleeting gesture, as if a burdensome memory is standing between us.”
EMILIENNE RUBBED her frozen arms together briskly. She distinctly felt the energy leave her body through her legs, and her entire body became weak, then heavy. It was a strange sensation that she had never before felt so distinctly. Her body was so heavy that she couldn’t lift her right foot, which had gone completely numb. Her left leg, luckily, was lighter, and so she was able to drag herself into the living room by walking her hands along the bed. She turned on the television set. Her physical weakness had also attacked her brain so she couldn’t make out the images that paraded across the screen, nor could she make out the host’s words even though his voice was ringing in her ears.
She groped her way over to the armchair, sat down, staggering, and then passed out. Little by little she came to, got up, and headed, this time, over to the window; with a detached gaze she moved her eyes over each of the spotlighted plants in the yard. The moon glistened in the sky. “It’s time to have my fruit trees pruned,” she murmured. She rubbed her arms together again, then moved away from the window and sat back down in her chair. But on her way, she’d inadvertently bumped up against the sharp corner of the glass shelf. She was bleeding profusely, and the blood was streaming down her leg.
Holding her hand over the gash, Emilienne ran to the bathroom, got the rubbing alcohol out of the cabinet, and poured a good amount of it over her wound. But the black blood continued flowing nonetheless. So she took four compresses, doused them with alcohol, and laid them over the gash, then stuck a large square bandage over it all. She sat down again, this time on the bed. And just as she did, she heard doors opening. It made her think that Eyang and her grandchildren had been locked up in one of the bedrooms since she’d gotten back, waiting patiently for her to go to bed so they could come out.
Emilienne stretched out on the be
d, her hands on the nape of her neck. Once again, her thoughts kept her inside her head. “How strange it is that people who have such high regard for one another and who love each other cannot live together for long before their relationship starts to deteriorate. As if friendship and love needed space in order to last. At the same time, although that physical separation keeps intact the feelings one has for the other and embellishes memories, if that separation lasts for too long, it creates a distance between them that is everlasting. It gives the impression that the only reason people get together in this world is to accompany one another during a very specific moment in their journey and for a precise length of time before going their own separate ways and allowing each other to proceed through the labyrinth of life or before they are separated by death. What do people take away from these often painful separations? Oh, Joseph! Do we have nothing more to learn from one another, nothing more to share or to give? Has the moment come for each of us to go down our own individual path?”
A DOOR SLAMMED. Emilienne jumped, the threat she had made this morning to her mother-in-law looming in her mind. It wasn’t the idea of facing Eyang in front of her son that frightened her, but rather what could transpire from the confrontation.
Emilienne had been in a quandary for a long time now, unable to guess how her husband might react. And, as if it were meant to, her predicament proved just how far apart they had grown. What remained between two people who, in spite of their love having been so strong, could no longer even predict the other’s actions? What happened to the time when all she had to do was focus her thoughts on him and a few seconds later he would telephone her? Would they ever be able to transmit messages to one another merely by thinking something again! Lately, every time she tried to focus on him, a black hole came between her and his fleeting image. If love between two people was not enduring, what could be in this life? Perhaps this emotion needed another dimension.
It had been three weeks since Joseph had come home. Obviously, it wasn’t the first time he had disappeared for so long. And if Emilienne was feeling apprehensive about his return, it was because she sensed that it would bring about a change in their life as a couple.
However, contrary to her expectations, Eyang had shown nothing but extreme kindness over the past week. As to be expected, being no fool, the old woman had fully considered the severity of her blunder in attacking her daughter-in-law so openly. Since it hadn’t been long since she’d suggested divorce, it wouldn’t take her son long to understand that Roxanne’s wound had been premeditated. As he had proven by marrying against her wishes, there was a good chance that he would never leave his wife.
After analyzing at length the situation she’d just created, Eyang decided to change her tactics. She would have to make everyone forget that stupid attack against Roxanne. This sudden change in her mother-in-law could only perplex Emilienne, who had finally come to the simple conclusion that she would lead Joseph to choose between his mother and her. This was a risky approach that would appear to be a choice she was imposing on them and one that would force them all to make decisions they would most likely regret.
After pondering for quite a while the sudden change in her mother-in-law, she wondered if the latter hadn’t simply returned to her senses with regard to her. If that were the case, she wouldn’t take the risk of ignoring the process of reconciliation she’d begun a week before and would hope that it was unconditional and sincere. Unless Eyang wanted to grant her a reprieve as she waited with baited breath for her son to come around, in which case Emilienne would respond accordingly.
As they waited, the two women kept a close eye on one another. Nothing in Eyang’s behavior, however, revealed any sort of duplicity. Several times, Emilienne turned around suddenly in an attempt to surprise her mother-in-law’s gaze. And even surprised like that, Eyang remained kind and affectionate. What could Emilienne do other than trust her own judgment? Distrust could become a vice that could distort reality.
Then, one evening Antoinette arrived at the house, in a whirlwind, as usual. After saying a quick hello to her sister-in-law and greeting her two children with a kiss on each cheek, she ordered her mother to lead her into her bedroom to discuss a very important issue. They stayed in there for nearly an hour, and when they emerged, the mother and daughter appeared to have made up. They especially went out of their way to show kindness toward Emilienne, which immediately made her think that their conversation had been about her and that for once it wasn’t about destroying her—even though her sister-in-law had never, to her knowledge, sought to blame her for anything.
Emilienne was not mistaken. Although she’d been hesitant to do so for more than a month, Antoinette had managed to persuade her mother to abandon the plot against her sister-in-law, which she had already set in motion. To her great surprise and without having to insist, Eyang had promised to bring the couple closer together rather than seeking to break them up.
The fact that Joseph showed up at home again, she sensed, was proof of Eyang’s renewed disposition. All sweetness and light, Eyang divided her attention equally between her son and her daughter-in-law. She engaged more and more in private conversations with Emilienne. Her constant suggestions and motherly advice were disconcerting to Joseph, whose first impression of their reconciliation, the reasons for which he could understand neither its basis nor its aims, was that the women were conspiring against him.
Their apparent complicity was far too unsettling to him. He was terribly affected by it, especially since he was not able to openly reproach them for it. It might very well have given him the answer that he had always hoped to be true and now dreaded: a mother-in-law and her daughter-in-law are not necessarily enemies. Their reconciliation was totally baffling. In the worst case, he thought, it was actually dangerous for him. In hindsight, he suddenly realized that it had been reassuring to see them arguing over him and hating each other because of him as well as for him, like a leader whose subjects would fight over the privilege to serve and to please him. Of course, he couldn’t say that his mother had become indifferent to him; to the contrary, she was showing more interest in him.
More so, he was bothered that his wife was progressively carving out her own space at his mother’s side. She made it so obvious that he had the sensation he was already being relegated to second place. As for Emilienne, she seemed calmer to his great surprise; and Joseph came home every evening after work so that he could closely follow the development of this odd friendship blossoming under his nose.
As days passed, he became increasingly irritable; he grew angrier each time the two women hovered over him as if he were an ill patient, sulkier and sulkier when, so absorbed in their chatter, they would ignore him. His brief outings in the evening were disrupted by his obsession that they were criticizing him and sharing secrets about him.
Because what could they be talking about other than the man they shared, the one who had brought them together not only because of their love for him but also for the sake of his well-being? It is true that there is strength in unity, and Joseph felt weak and alone confronted with two women who had gotten close to one another undoubtedly because of their anger at seeing him lead a double life, each perfectly aware of what they could gain from their complicity. And as a popular singer had said, When the wife gets angry, the secrets are out.
To his deep regret, his presence at home did not make their relationship normal again. Instead, it produced the opposite effect. Joseph inevitably withdrew into himself, because the women in his life, and even his nephews, were so preoccupied with playing what he called their “vaudeville-like comedy.” The new strategy failed so quickly that this time he disappeared even longer from the home that excluded him. If each of the women suffered from it, they both refused to share their grief.
THE CHANGE in each of the members of the family seemed to have affected Godwin the most. His transformation had actually begun at the time of Rékia’s death.
Previously indifferent to Eyang’s
status, he now gave the impression that he answered directly to her, carrying out her orders so willingly that it took Emilienne by surprise. For her part, Eyang was overjoyed by the influence she had over the cook. But his submissiveness and her dominance ceased when they found themselves alone. Their roles changed. Eyang was terrorized by the cook’s silent threats and damning looks. One day, when they were alone, Eyang had the courage to reproach Godwin for being repeatedly late. Annoyed and motivated by the delight he took in flaunting his growing confidence in the old woman’s presence, the cook moved close to Eyang, and, pointing his finger at her, uttered disturbing threats:
“Listen, lady, I will not allow you to use that tone with me. You know that if I say certain things to the mister and missus, you could have serious problems.”
Eyang stepped back but maintained her composure.
“Ah, yes! And what are you going to say? Be careful! Don’t forget that you are a foreigner in this country. Go ahead and talk. There are planes that leave here every day; there will certainly be a seat for you. Who do you think you are?”
The cook stepped toward the old woman again, and with a mean look in his eyes, his voice booming, said:
“I am not afraid of you, because in this game it is you who have everything to lose. So, choose your words carefully before you speak to me.”
“Come on, boy!” Eyang said, suddenly seeming vulnerable. “Don’t get mad, you are fine here, right!”
“That’s better.”
Eyang backed away toward the gate and leaned against it because she was feeling weak; Godwin returned to the kitchen. For the first time in her life, Eyang was overcome by a sense of extreme panic. Or worse, she thought she was in danger.
In order to make her son happy, she had done certain things, and she would definitely do them again if she were in the same circumstances. If she had to blame herself for anything, it would be to have not acted alone. In any case, she knew one thing: her son’s girlfriend would not talk. The threat came from the lowly cook, whom she thought seemed to be a bit crazy. She could not demand he be fired, nor could she tolerate his arrogance for long; those options would lead to his inevitable betrayal. What was she to do, faced with this dilemma?
The Fury and Cries of Women Page 9