“No, but it’s not so easy with women. You never know what they want. She did throw me a line once, though. She never stopped telling me, ‘You know what my dream is? To travel abroad to see the Taj Mahal.’ I didn’t understand why she wanted to go to the other side of the world. I said, ‘What for? You hate the heat! You panic when you see too many strangers all at once, you’ve never wanted to come camping with me in the mountains.’ And when she bought an orange sari, I said she was ridiculous, that it wasn’t carnival time.”
“You’re hopeless, Ferdinand. No offense, but she should’ve gotten a medal. How long did she stay with you?”
“From the age of eighteen to sixty-two. She told me she wasted her best years with me. Can you believe it? She has some nerve! Those aren’t things you say during a divorce, especially when you’re wrong.”
“How was she wrong?”
“She cheated on me with the mailman and left me like an old sock! Even an old sock would have been treated better.”
“Are you sure you want to tell me the rest? You seem tired.”
“I need to talk about it, just once, and after that, it’ll be forgotten. Even Marion—I’ve never told her what I did.”
“You’re scaring me, Ferdinand. You’re not a serial killer after all, are you?”
“No, but I’ve done things I’m not proud of, things that pushed me past the point of no return. One day, when Louise wasn’t home, I got into the house. Well, her house. I’d kept a set of keys she didn’t know about. In there, I destroyed everything. I doused her daffodils with weed killer. Can you imagine? I’ve always hated postal service yellow, but that was too much. It was like she wanted to expose her adultery to the whole village. I was cuckolded, and by the mailman! I scratched up his car and punctured the tires. I cut the cords on all the household appliances. I even put nettles in her rain boots. Worse, I let the chickens out. They surely didn’t get very far, with the neighbor’s dogs and the foxes in the woods.
“When she came home, I hid and watched her burst into tears. That should have moved me, but I felt nothing. She deserved it! After that, she never let me come close to her and they moved to the south of France. All I know is she died from a stupid fall getting out of the bathtub. I can’t say whether God punished her, because if there were any justice, I’d have been the first to pay the price. They say tough guys are the last to go. So there it is, the whole story.”
“You put nettles in your wife’s boots, and hoped she’d come back to you? Don’t you have some regrets?”
“To be honest, yes, I have regrets, but if I could do it all over again, I don’t think I’d do anything differently. The only difference is I’d wait every day for her to leave me, and when the moment came, I wouldn’t be surprised. I’d have regrets for myself, but not for us. For me, for having failed again, for being incapable of positively influencing the course of my life. Those are my regrets. Not what you were expecting, eh?”
“But it’s not over! You still have your daughter and your grandson. Maybe there are things you’d like to change with them.”
“It’s too late. I should’ve done it differently with my daughter, maybe taken her to the beach. Kids like the beach, don’t they? Now they’re on the other side of the world. Marion is always asking me to visit, but I’ve got nothing to do down there. She even wants to pay for my ticket, more than four hundred euros. Can you believe it? But it’s out of the question. She’ll work the whole time, I know it. And my grandson, I must have seen him fewer than ten times since he was born. He’s seventeen now, and we’d have nothing to say to each other. And then, I’m not fond of going abroad. So, better to save ourselves the money and the trip.”
“Yes, better to save yourself from life. Let’s scrimp and save our money, and our feelings, too, for that matter,” says Juliette.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Heavens to Betsy
Juliette returns the next day. The discussion from the previous day has been erased, just like the doctor’s promise that Ferdinand would be discharged in the morning. It seems the old man has been forgotten yet again. Ferdinand is out of sorts. He no longer knows whether he dreamed that tirade, confessing his shameful misconduct. Of course he did. Otherwise, why would the little girl have come back?
They’re in the middle of chatting, when an electronic noise resounds through the room, repeating several times. Ferdinand looks around for the source, wondering what he could have done now. That’s when Juliette removes a touch screen tablet from her bag.
“I think your daughter would like to tell you something. You have things to say to each other, don’t you?”
Juliette hands the device to Ferdinand, who feels like a chicken looking at a knife: dubious. He shoots a desperate look at Juliette, who turns the screen toward him. The old man then sees his daughter’s face. Marion, still so far away, seems like she’s right next to him. He can even detect signs of anxiety and fatigue.
“Hello, Papa.”
“How does this thingamabob work? Where’s the mic? Can she see me? I’m shaking too much, she’s going to get seasick! Can you turn the sound up? I can’t hear a thing. Marion? Can you hear me?”
“Yes, Papa, very well. You don’t have to shout. Talk like you’re on a telephone, no louder. How are you doing?”
“OK. I’m at the hospital but I’ve had it worse. It’s weird to talk into this thing. You’re fuzzy, Marion. Ah, the picture’s better now! I can’t wait to get out.”
“I blame myself, especially for having missed your call. That dragged things out at the police station. You wouldn’t look like that if I’d gotten your message immediately. It’s my fault, but mostly Eric’s. I called him to ask for an explanation. If I ever get my hands on him!”
“If I may, you’re not looking too hot, either. Are you sleeping at night?”
“Not much at the moment. Between your umpteenth stay at the hospital and Alexandre getting health screenings . . .”
“What’s wrong with Alexandre?”
“They don’t really know yet, so no use worrying about it, which is easier said than done. You know me—I can get nervous and anxious over nothing. Right now, I can’t sleep and I throw up everything I swallow.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“That’s nice, Papa. And I’m sorry about that retirement home business. I was really scared of losing you, especially after Mama’s death. You’re my remaining family, whether you like it or not. But I was wrong.”
“That’s OK, Marion. It’s nothing. Besides, it didn’t do me any harm to clean up. My slippers slide much better now. The hardest part was dealing with Mrs. Suarez.”
“Papa, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. The retirement home isn’t the solution. Something changed in you a while ago. Just offering your help with Alexandre proves it. But I still can’t help but worry. You spend your days alone, with nothing to do. Have you thought about getting another dog? I wasn’t in favor of it at first, but now I think it would do you good.”
“I don’t need a dog. I don’t feel like starting all over again with the training. Then the feelings . . . Just to see it die before me again. And I have Juliette now. It’s kind of the same, a stomach on legs, minus the walks. She’s a nice little girl.”
“But that pains me, too. You’re going to wind up knowing a stranger better than your own grandson. He needs his grandfather.”
“I’m not the one who chose to live in Singapore.”
Ferdinand has a gift for setting fires—not just where there’s fuel, but also where there’s a peace pipe.
“Papa, it was to get away from you and Mama! You put me in the middle of your fights. I couldn’t see either of you without hearing your complaints. Worse, all your ‘Talk to him! He’ll listen to you’ or ‘Go see her and ask her to come back. I’m ready to accept her apology.’ It’s sad to say, but with Mama’s death, at least it’s calmed down. And I’ve changed, too. I’m getting older and I’m realizing what’s really
important. In one year, I almost lost you twice. That’s not a life—not for you, not for me, not for Alex.”
Marion takes a deep breath and continues.
“I’ve made a big decision, Papa. I’m selling the apartment in the complex and I’d like you to come live with us in Singapore. What do you think?”
“Darling, I’m not sure I heard right. It cut out. Anyway, I have to hang up now. The nurse just came in and it’s time for my treatment. Love you!”
“Papa, don’t hang up. Did you hear my proposal?”
For several long seconds, both of them are silent. Ferdinand’s face remains shut down, then he finally blurts out, “I think so, yes.”
“I’m aware that means an enormous change. But it’s family! I’m not asking for an immediate response, I’m not forcing you into anything. I’m just saying I’d like it. OK, I’ll leave you to your nurses. Call me as soon as you get home and we’ll talk about it some more. Hugs, Papa. I love you.”
“Go on, Marion. Bye. How do you turn this thingamabob off, Juliette?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
All Fun and Games ’til Someone Gets Hurt
Ferdinand has been back at home for two days. His convalescence at the hospital was longer than anticipated, and he’s relieved to see his apartment again. As Marion asked him to do, he informed her of his return home, while trying to break the record for shortest phone conversation: eleven seconds. He didn’t want to give her a chance to reopen the discussion about the proposed move. Ferdinand hates moving, and he can’t seriously entertain his daughter’s request.
For two days, he’s lived as a recluse: neither Juliette nor Beatrice knows he’s back. He wants to be forgotten, and to take advantage of his solitude to do some thinking. Furthermore, his relationship with Beatrice is still stuck in his craw. First, she flirts with him by telling him about her life and sharing her feelings. Then she sends him packing. Then she rescues him from an unjust conviction at the eleventh hour, only to force him back into the hospital, where he hates the green walls and incessant beeping that indicates life and death. Not to mention the car ride, when she nearly killed him. What a nut!
OK, sometimes he thinks he’s a little loony, too. But above all he has his pride. How can he spend time with her again? Where would they begin? A tongue-lashing? Excuses? A kiss? He decides to avoid her, along with the evening’s bridge party.
The plastic clock displays 5:52. Ferdinand paces around. The closer it gets to the top of the hour, the more anxious he gets. He reassesses each conversation with Beatrice, looks out the window as if the solution to his predicament is there, then checks the time again.
5:53. In seven minutes, Beatrice will come to my door to beg me to come play. But I won’t go. I won’t! It’s not that he blames her. He knew deep down what she would say. Eighty years of experience taught him that. It’s always the same with women. They ask me to love them, then toss me aside when I finally have feelings! I won’t go play tonight, that’s for sure! In any case, she won’t have to ring the bell—the bridge set is sitting on her doormat. She’ll get the message. 5:54. This clock isn’t working. It’s slow! And it’s on Beatrice’s side—it’s slowly torturing me.
5:56. Ferdinand sighs. He looks through the peephole and sees the bridge set is still where he left it. Beatrice should discover it soon. I’d like to see her face when she realizes I’m not coming. That it’s over between us. Ferdinand, like a caged animal, returns to his station in front of the window, staring into space. Then again, it would be a shame to leave the complex now. The concierge isn’t here anymore to bother me, the neighbor ladies make eyes at me, Juliette brings me licorice . . .
The doorbell rings. But it’s only 5:57. Beatrice is getting rude, she’s early! Anyway, I’m not here. Silence. Ferdinand presses himself against the wall. He ceases moving, holds his breath. Then, he remembers. Darn, the light. I should have turned it off. Now she’ll see it shining underneath the door. Stealthily, Ferdinand shuffles in his slippers to the light switch in the entryway. He’s turning blue in the face. He presses it, and the light goes out. Whew!
But the desire to see his neighbor’s pleading face is too strong. He lifts the cover on the peephole, adjusts his lens, and sticks his eye in. Nothing! Suddenly a worried little voice calls, “Yoo-hoo, is anyone there? Where is that damned light? Yoo-hoo . . .”
It’s not Beatrice’s voice . . . the bell rings again . . .
All of a sudden, the light turns back on. A white shape appears. Tall. Blond. Slender. From the back. A woman, in a long white fur coat. She turns around and scrutinizes the door, as if she were trying to see through it. Ferdinand can almost feel the heat of her gaze piercing him. He concentrates and makes out the woman’s features more clearly. Blue-gray eyes, a plump face little ravaged by the years, a delicate mouth redrawn in red. A beautiful woman, sixty-five at the most. Ferdinand has never seen her around here, otherwise he would have noticed her, maybe even tried to talk to her! Suddenly the white shape seems to dart toward him. Shoot. Ferdinand closes his eyes and mouth as tightly as possible, as if to disappear. She saw me.
The stranger rings again. “Hello. Is anyone there? I’m a bit late. I got lost in the stairwell and there are no numbers on the floors. I’m here for the bridge party.” Ferdinand exhales to empty his lungs entirely. Whew! She’s not looking for me. Ferdinand opens the door and sticks his head out.
“It’s the door across the way, little lady. You’ll see, I put the bridge set on the doorstep.”
“Oh, thank you! Yes, the game, how silly of me. Where was my head? I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She takes a deep breath, her hands trembling. “May I ask you to lend me your arm to help me across? My legs don’t carry me well anymore. I was really frightened in the dark . . .”
“Uh, yes, I’ll help you. Uh . . . there’s been a misunderstanding . . .” Ferdinand takes his keys and pulls the door shut behind him.
“Thank you so much, sir, for your help. I’m lucky to have found a knight in shining armor. Isn’t that wonderful. I get the wrong door and stumble upon a charming man who plays bridge, no less. May I know whom I have the honor of speaking to? I’m Madeleine,” she says, catching the old man’s arm.
Ferdinand’s head is spinning. He’s the one who needs to hold on. He’s bowled over. He’d been planning to play dead all evening, but now finds himself on the landing approaching Beatrice’s doorbell, with a seductive woman on his arm. How can he flee before being spotted by his neighbor, while still leaving a good impression on the lovely Madeleine?
But the door opens to reveal Beatrice. “Ah, I thought I’d heard your door. I’m truly delighted you’ve come, Ferdinand. I see you’ve already met Madeleine, your new partner. She’s the most seasoned player I know. Come in, come in. You like winning, Ferdinand, so here’s someone your speed. Besides, you’ve surely heard Juliette talk about Madeleine. She’s her grandmother!”
Madeleine lights up. “How nice to find out I’m on the arm of Mr. Ferdinand. I’m thrilled! We’ll see each other regularly then. I’ll be living upstairs from now on. At least, I think so. My memory plays tricks on me sometimes.”
The game has four players as soon as Mr. Palisson arrives, who helps Ferdinand unfold the bridge table. He explains the rules three times. Nevertheless, everyone has a lovely time, and Beatrice enjoys the presence of her neighbor. Madeleine has the most entertaining evening she’s had in months. At least, as far as she can remember. As for Ferdinand, he wins, but doesn’t even think to enjoy his victory, he’s so turned upside down by the superb woman who spends the evening touching his arm . . .
Chapter Thirty-Six
Once and for All
The Christmas season is approaching. Beatrice will spend ten days with her children, then she’ll celebrate New Year’s Eve at the retirement home with her sister-in-law. Juliette is leaving for Normandy with her father, little sister, and grandmother, where Madeleine will take a spa cure. Like every year, Ferdinand has nothing planned. Mari
on doesn’t get any vacation time, and Alexandre will spend his time off with his father, as he does every year. And that’s it! Ferdinand’s made the rounds of all his options. He’ll be alone. Like last year. Except last year, there was Daisy.
It’s the last day of school before vacation, and Juliette has promised to have lunch with Ferdinand. He’s prepared her favorite dish: chicken and pasta shells au jus and pickles. For dessert, he’s planned a surprise: a homemade chocolate mousse. A first! The only spoonful he’s allowed himself was delicious.
The table is set, when the little girl, punctual as always, tumbles through the door. She takes a report out of her school bag and shows it to him. He never had grades like those. This little girl will go far. Ferdinand is proud of her. Juliette sits at the table, a chatterbox as usual. The chicken isn’t quite cooked yet. She tells him about her morning at school. By way of an appetizer, she gorges on the pickles.
Suddenly all the lights go out. The fridge and the oven, too. A power failure. A quick check through the peephole reveals there’s light in the stairwell. Ferdinand resets the breaker. The power doesn’t come back on. Blast! His Christmas dinner will be ruined if the chicken is raw and the mousse warm. Seized by an impulse, he rushes out and rings Beatrice’s doorbell. Surprised, pencil in hand, she opens the door, all smiles.
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