This Little Family

by Inès Bayard

  Thomas is sitting at the table with them this evening. Laurent has insisted that he be up on the same level as them for the meal. They’re all together. The intercom rings. “Let it ring, it must be a delivery man or a neighbor who’s forgotten their key.” Laurent doesn’t contradict Marie. A few minutes later their own doorbell rings. Laurent gets up to open the door. Marie recognizes her sister’s voice through the kitchen’s thin walls. Roxane is breathless, standing panting in the hallway, supported by Laurent who kindly invites her to join them for dinner. With Roxane’s every footstep over the parquet in the corridor, Marie’s fingers tense on her paper napkin. She didn’t invite her sister over this evening. Roxane appears in the doorway. Marie manages a brief forced smile for Laurent’s sake. Usually, he would finish his food quickly to leave the two women to talk, but the conversation he overheard yesterday means he needs to stay on the alert. This impromptu visit might be his chance to discover the truth at last.

  Marie embarks on a conversation about the birthday present she bought for her father. Roxane is visibly uncomfortable, she’d like to admit the full extent of what she knows straightaway. She could turn to Laurent and tell him everything her sister has done. She wouldn’t have the courage. She’s paralyzed by the look in Marie’s eyes. Filtered through her story about buying this present is all the terror and violence of a woman who now knows she’s being hunted down. Laurent watches her but doesn’t see anything. He loves his wife. And in this state of turbulence he can’t possibly spot the mistake. He’s a tired husband, an exhausted husband, overwhelmed by the weight of suspicion.

  Laurent leaves the table and Marie struggles to disguise her relief. She’s not always sufficiently aware of the weaknesses in her loved ones. Roxane will never manage to tell Laurent the truth. She’s too frightened. Whereas Laurent is still governed by his love for her. He won’t be able to do a thing. And the child will be no help to him. His body spoke only once and since then Marie has been vigilant about her son’s cleanliness, even if that meant changing him with her eyes closed or leaving him in the bath without really watching over him. In fact, now that she’s facing her sister alone, she’s no longer afraid of losing this battle. In some instances, the victims determine the future course of action. And that is what she allows to happen.

  “I just came to say you’re right. This is your problem. It’s up to your conscience but don’t expect me to keep helping you with your lies. That’s over.” Her sister’s pity extends only to Thomas and Laurent. Marie feels she made the right decision by choosing silence after she was raped. Her sister hasn’t even asked her who her rapist was. Not for a moment has the subject of the sexual assault been referred to directly by Roxane. Her mother hasn’t asked any questions either. When she found her own daughter swimming in filth, she didn’t even have it in her to ask for explanations. The facts were enough. The consequences visible and irreparable. Ever cautious, they’re all acting in silence. The rape is vanishing under the weight of more recent events. Its gnawing, degraded violence is called into question in various ways and simply eclipses itself from the surface of this torment and sorrow. And they each start out on their lives again.

  Paul doesn’t understand: “A test? Are you sure that’s what you want? You can’t turn the clock back afterward.” Laurent is sure. He won’t back down. He explains his suspicions about his wife, all her strange behavior since Thomas was born, her endless lies that he’s discovered in the last few days. Paul is surprised and thinks privately that, at the end of the day, no one ever really knows what goes on within a couple. The tensions, emotions, infidelities, their relationships with their child—all things that are camouflaged, prettified, wrapped up in a sweet sugary coating to hide the bitterness deep in the heart of the whole setup.

  Laurent couldn’t get to sleep last night. As he lay next to his wife, the bed felt so deep and heavy. He feels he’s sinking into something whose contours he still can’t make out clearly, trying to stay afloat, struggling to understand, going over and over events in his mind. The two of them taking Thomas for a stroll along the Canal de l’Ourcq. He remembers watching tourists as they walked by or cheerfully clinked glasses on moored barges, the flat greenish water, the big restaurant terraces outside the Rotonde Stalingrad building full of people and flooded with sunlight. It’s like a freeze-frame with this peaceful setting stretching to the horizon. A floating feeling wraps him in clammy warmth. He can see his wife in the distance. Standing upright and holding Thomas’s buggy confidently. They’re close to the water. She’s rocking the buggy slowly backward and forward. Its wheels slide on the paving slabs at the water’s edge. This clearly etched image of his wife and son could be his last before the drama. He’ll never see them again. The buggy is only a couple of inches from falling into the canal’s black depths. Laurent can feel his heart beating; he comes slowly over to Marie. She senses him behind her, turns around. Her eyes are filled with grief. She wanted to do it, was prepared to go through with it. They continued with their walk along the dock. Laurent remembers that afternoon, remembers all these little details that now look like great daubs of blue paint on his wife’s guilty face.

  Paul explains the procedure for a paternity test. It’s not difficult to carry out. There are dozens of Web sites that offer mail-order kits but Laurent came to Paul to be sure he would have no unpleasant surprises. Marie won’t know anything about this, and he will have his friend’s support if it turns out that Thomas isn’t his biological son.

  The two men say their goodbyes sadly. Paul feels bad for Laurent. He knows the dramas that extramarital affairs can cause. A few years after his own wedding he met a nurse on night duty at the hospital. They often met up at work, had passionate trysts on the hospital premises, and then Paul would go home with the satisfaction of having a personal life as varied and intense as his work. But the nurse ended up wanting more. More dates, more outings, more dinners and weekends together. She pestered Paul with insulting messages, threats, ultimatums, and declarations of her love. Sophia eventually found out about the whole thing. Paul begged her to forgive him and swore he would never do it again. Sophia forgave him. She even arranged to meet the desperate young woman to ask her to stop pursuing her husband.

  Confronted with a man’s infidelity, a woman often feels thoroughly ashamed. Laurent has also been tempted by Julia. One evening after work she suggested they have one last drink at her place to celebrate their progress on the Ponce case. Laurent wavered. His mind was already tying itself in knots, weighing up the pros and cons, gauging the good and the bad in what he was about to do. He declined. He very much wanted to but the consequences were too onerous. He didn’t want any problems with Marie, was keen to stay comfortably nestled in his home, surrounded by his family, and wouldn’t take even the smallest risk of losing everything.

  * * *

  —

  Laurent has gotten into the habit of picking up Thomas in the evenings, and Marie is delighted to have more time to herself at the end of the day. Today she’s decided to go to the movies with Sophia, making the most of this rare period of calm. Which is Laurent’s opportunity to act. Paul gave him a small bag with everything he needs to carry out the paternity test: latex gloves, four long cotton swabs, two plastic tubes, and the instructions. Thomas is quiet and Laurent watches him in the rearview mirror. He’s not sure. Even if Thomas isn’t his son, he loves him as if he were his own. A driver sounds his horn. Laurent hurries back to the apartment and settles his son in the bathroom. He tears open the packaging. Thomas twists his head in every direction. It’s difficult to get the swab into his mouth because he refuses to open his lips. Laurent sees himself in the mirror: his gloved hands carefully holding the two long swabs, then slipping them into the phials before sealing the pouch. He hopes Thomas will never remember this, that the poor child will forget all the doubts weighing down on his head. Before Marie comes home he has time to drop the test off at Paul’s office. He doesn’t want to run any
unnecessary risks by keeping it at home. Paul has told him it should take about three days. The hospital will let him know when the results are ready.

  Laurent feels relieved. He managed to go through with it. Only his son could make him doubt his decision. But the child seems to give his assent with just one look.

  It’s Marie’s father’s birthday and the whole family has gathered at Bois-le-Roi to celebrate, as they do every year. Irene has decorated the table sumptuously and prepared a delicious meal, ending with a big cake that she ordered in advance from the patisserie.

  Roxane hasn’t spoken a word to Marie since her impromptu visit to her apartment. Their mother thinks this is just a routine tiff between the two women, about children or work. Roxane looks away every time Marie comes near.

  Laurent is bouncing Thomas on his lap on the sofa. He wants to be happy today before tragedy strikes. He can’t imagine what lies in store if the test is negative. A future without Marie, without his son, without this warm and loving family in Bois-le-Roi. A future made up of nothing. Wandering alone around the law firm, drowning in work and heartbreak, he would be lost. He would have nothing. Laurent has never tried to judge his marriage objectively. Their day-to-day life—with its innocent little arguments about a crooked toothpaste cap or an empty toilet paper holder—doesn’t bother him. Comforting habits have a pleasant anesthetic effect, and that’s where the danger lies. But a man without such habits is lost. Perhaps Laurent won’t tell his wife the truth.

  Marie brings in two dishes of deviled eggs that her mother has arranged attractively in staggered rows. The rest of the meal is gargantuan. A woman who spends so long cooking on her own isn’t usually a very happy one; in most instances this is just a way of forgetting everything else. Marie has stopped fighting. Sitting in the living room opposite Roxane and her husband, she feels she’s claimed victory. Everything’s falling perfectly back into place. Irene asks the whole family to come sit at the table, and Roxane makes a point of sitting as far from Marie as possible.

  Laurent feels he’s in a privileged position. “Come on then, Laurent, tell us about this case. How’s it going?” In Laurent’s opinion, the significant media coverage of the Ponce case in the last few days has been over the top. It’s only a divorce suit. “Yes, but there’s also the rape of that girl.” Silence settles over the room. Roxane couldn’t help speaking out. It was overpowering. Marie stares at her from the other end of the table with a reproachful smile. She utterly loathes her. Can’t understand why this once loving and empathetic sister is now determined to do her so much harm. She needs some air, makes her excuses, and leaves the table.

  As a teenager she spent whole afternoons reading and daydreaming in the conservatory. She never complained, but she often felt the heavy burden of someone who’s never experienced anything exceptional. No suffering, no problems with family, finances, or relationships. No sickness and no deaths. She grew up in this healthy united family that gave her the values she would pass on to her own children. There were never any obstacles in her life until the rape. She knows that a woman who’s lived with poverty and depravity, hunger and death, hatred and violence might not have reacted in the same way. She would have had the courage to report this crime, to run away and have an abortion. She wouldn’t have hidden everything behind appearances. This realization makes Marie feel sick to her stomach.

  When Laurent doesn’t come home until late in the evening, she sometimes goes onto Internet forums. Sites with daily posts from women who’ve been beaten, raped, and sexually assaulted. Marie has never participated in these conversations. She’s never succeeded in doing it, not even under cover of anonymity. Some of the women kept their rapist’s child, and they talk about this. In some cases, the child can even see its father freely with no judgment spoiling these visits. Situations are normalized to make them more bearable. Marie could talk about what happened to her. But the consequences would be disastrous for her marriage, her family, and her work. She’d lose everything. Her CEO is a rapist but also a discreet and sensitive husband, a father who cares about his two daughters’ upbringing, and head of a banking group with excellent business results. When she climbed out of his car he threatened to destroy her marriage and her career if she talked. But the child will talk one day. Marie will confess her whole story to Thomas. The culprit definitely won’t be punished. The case will be closed.

  Marie surfaces from her thoughts. There’s a phone vibrating on the table in the veranda where they had their aperitifs. She recognizes her husband’s cell. He left it on the table. She goes over to pick it up and take it to him. A long message lights up on the home screen. It’s an email. Without the phone’s access code, Marie can see only the beginning. “Dear sir, the results of the paternity test you carried out on June 16, 2014, at the laboratories of the Pitié-Salpêtrière University Hospital, will be available on Thursday, June 19, 2014, from…” She holds her breath. Reality distorts around her. The phone quivers in her shaking hand. In the end she puts it down. She’s stunned. How could he have done the test behind her back?

  She wonders about her sister and her mother. There’s a slight risk they’ve spoken to him. And there’s her CEO. Could Laurent have seen him? Does he know everything? She throws herself at Laurent’s phone but can’t unlock it. She tries several combinations of numbers. Without success. She can hear her husband laughing in the dining room and discreetly moves closer to spy on the familiar faces of those she suspects are guilty. Thomas is sitting in his high chair. As usual, his grandmother has given him a sugared toy to help with his teething. Laurent is playing with him, taking the toy from him and then handing it back and smothering his face with kisses. Roxane is walled up in silence. Her mother is talking to her but she’s not listening. Her husband Julien is having to take an interest in his mother-in-law’s conversation and to answer on his wife’s behalf. Only Marie’s father looks relaxed. He’s celebrating his seventieth birthday, surrounded by his family. He has no worries to fret over anymore. His life is quiet, peaceful, and private. A great wave of anxiety washes over Marie. Laurent will soon know the truth. He won’t react the same way as Roxane. Silence won’t be an acceptable solution for him. He’ll make decisions. Throw her out with just a few clothes, tell her family, her friends, her coworkers, even have her forcibly interned in a psychiatric unit by a friend of Paul’s. Paul. She’d forgotten about him. Is he responsible for this? Did he have his doubts when Laurent told him about Marie’s behavior and reactions? She’ll call Sophia. Tomorrow. No, after lunch. The sooner the better.

  Her mind fogs over. She loses her balance. A vase on the windowsill shatters at her feet. “Marie? Is every thing okay?” her mother calls from the dining room. She uses her hands to scrape up the shards scattered over the floor. Tears stream down her cheeks. Her mother hurries over to her. “Marie, stop it! Stop it! I’ll get the broom. Don’t touch it, it’s sharp.” Marie’s body tips backward slightly. Laurent watches from where he’s sitting. He has Thomas in his arms. Marie studies him for a moment. A stab of pain distracts her but she can’t take her eyes off her husband. She wants to beg him to stop. The floor is dotted with drops of blood. Her palm is cut right across, with partially visible fragments of glass buried in her flesh.

  Her husband hastily puts Thomas into his buggy and runs over to her. “What are you doing? Come, we need to disinfect it.” A long trail of blood trickles onto the white tiled floor in the living room. As she walks through the dining room, Marie sees Roxane at the table. She’s finishing her helping of cake. Marie thinks she makes out a slight smile. Laurent hurries her along. He opens drawers in the bathroom, looking for dressings. Irene appears. “Is everything okay? Do you think I should call a doctor? It does look deep.” Laurent says he can handle it. Irene goes to clear up the mess on the veranda. Laurent tries to extract the larger pieces of glass with tweezers. Marie screams in pain. Perhaps he thinks she deserves it. She’d be happier swallowing the glass so there could be no m
ore words. Properly grinding up all these shards and ramming great handfuls of them into her body. She’d be overrun with glass.

  Laurent doesn’t react to her cries. Marie stares at him the whole time as he plucks out the tiny glinting fragments. Her hand looks like a map of muscle tissue. A hundred different possibilities come into her sick mind. Husband and wife take refuge in silence.

  Before finally looking away she asks, “Did you like the meal?”

  Marie finds the nights go on forever. There’s only one day left before Laurent finds out the truth. Every thought becomes a trial as she strives for an effective solution. She spent last night on Internet forums looking for a way to end it all. With no success. She’s overtired. Her body registers nothing but exhaustion and sadness. What she finds most difficult is seeing the child every day. She wants him to disappear from her life. Laurent is becoming increasingly suspicious of her. She caught him one evening scrolling through her cell phone and rifling through her coat pockets. They avoid each other in the apartment, trying their best to hide their discomfort.

  At the bank Marie can’t deal with her workload, her coworkers have turned their backs on her since the accusation of harassment, she’s losing her people skills. She can’t cope anymore. Once she leaves work there are still all those women with buggies, all those kids playing and those couples holding hands in the street. Little details that disgust her, make her feel nauseous. She’s tormented by anxiety. Only one day left. Just one day. That’s so little. The vast ocean of the lie is closing in around her. Once everyone knows about her rape she’ll never have a normal life again. Judged, disparaged for her silence, humiliated by those around her. It all needs to go away, and fast. The proof, the facts, the consequences, the emotions, the bodies. The bodies. She needs to bring this whole thing to an end herself. No one will do it for her. The restaurant terrace is full of people. Marie squeezes her thighs, her stomach, her breasts. She thinks about a body’s content, how it reacts to things. She feels ready to resolve everything. All life has to offer her is total submission, a protracted decline from which she’ll never recover. The solutions ran out long ago already. When she climbed out of that car she felt a part of her mind leave her. She couldn’t reconstitute the facts, pick up the coherent thread of her life, and when she told people she was pregnant that battle came to an end. Thomas, the child who brought about her downfall. His every cry deserves death, but all it produces in her is a profound exasperation at her own impotence. In a few hours’ time she’ll finally be able to reach an effective decision.