Dany Laferrière: Heading South

“Denz, Fanfan couldn’t care less,” Chico puts in. “He even enjoys seeing women fight over him.”

“Chico! Chico!”

Simone is calling him from the back room. Chico gets up quickly. I suspect he falls in love with all the women I get mixed up with. He goes into the room and comes out right away.

“She wants to see you.”

“Why didn’t she call me herself? She called Denz. She called you. I’m not going in if she doesn’t call me.”

“She can’t bring herself to say your name out loud. I think she’s afraid of something. . Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Go fuck yourself, Chico,” I say, standing up.

She is sitting at the back of the room.

“What’s the matter, Simone?”

She keeps her head down.

“If you don’t answer, I’ll leave.”

She looks up. Eyes filled with tears.

“Why did you leave me?”

“Where did you get that idea? I saw you on Monday.”

“Monday! Don’t you feel like an eternity has gone by since then?”

“It’s only Thursday, Simone. It’s only three days, not even that. .”

“That’s three days when I don’t know where I am or who I am or what I’m supposed to do.”

“You went to school, though?”

“No.”

She looks me straight in the eye. Her face a blank.

“Can I see you?”

“I’m right here, Simone.”

“Not here.”

“Why not?”

She looks down.

“I want you, Fanfan, I want to be alone with you for a little while. I’d like you to be just with me, just for an hour. . Is that too much to ask?”

“No, but it’ll have to be here.”

So I stay with her for an hour in that little room. She never stops crying, and holding my hand tightly. Every so often she leans her head on my shoulder while rubbing the palm of my left hand. Then suddenly she rears back and stares at me as if seeing me for the first time. Then she kisses my ear. That’s her idea of happiness. And then Chico takes her home. I can only guess what they talked about along the way.

MY MOTHER IS busy sewing in the middle of the night.

“You should get some sleep, Mama.”

“No, dear, I have to finish this dress. Madame Saint-Pierre is coming to pick it up tomorrow.”

I fall asleep to the regular rhythm of the sewing machine. As usual, for that matter.

I’M STILL IN my room, lying on my narrow cot, reading a book about jazz that Denz lent me, when Madame Saint-Pierre arrives.

“Oh, Madeleine! You’ve finished it already.”

“I worked on it all night,” my mother says humbly.

“I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have. You must be dead tired now.”

“I always work like this. . I have two growing children who are very dear to me and I have to bring them up myself.”

“I know. Maryse is with us. She has a rare intelligence. Oh, what a beautiful dress! You are truly a matchless marvel, my dear. .”

“But you haven’t tried it on yet.”

“I trust you, Madeleine, I’m sure it will make me look ravishing.”

I listen to this chit-chat from my bed, feeling distraught.

“Can I speak to you a moment, Madeleine?” Madame Saint-Pierre suddenly says, her voice becoming almost hoarse.

“Of course. .”

I take all of this in with a growing sense of unease. Maybe I went too far, and she’s going to complain to my mother about me. In which case I’d have about two seconds to get dressed and dash out the back door that opens onto the courtyard. My mother would never forgive me if she lost Madame Saint-Pierre’s friendship, even if she does know that it’s nothing but a superficial relationship. As far as my mother is concerned, Madame Saint-Pierre holds Maryse’s future in the palm of her hand. Damn! What the hell was I thinking, taking such a huge risk? I can get what I want from Simone, or Minouche. But Madame Saint-Pierre is such a mature woman. She’s one of the Pétionville bourgeoisie. At the time she might have been impressed by my behaviour, but when she got home, when she’d had time to think about it for a while, she must have realized she’d been had by an impertinent little shithead. Which is what I am! Damn! Damn! Damn! And damn! The trap is closing in around me. I’m going to have to leave my cosy little nest and forage for myself in the urban jungle. And I have no idea when I’ll be able to come back home. My mother is going to want my balls for bookends. Madame Saint-Pierre will no doubt find some excuse to kick Maryse out of her school. All those long nights my mother spent hunched over her sewing machine, for nothing. What an asshole I am. Totally. Barely ten minutes ago I was lying here, minding my own business, thinking I should get up and have some lunch, it was almost eleven o’clock, the time I usually get up on Saturdays, and now here I am little better than a mangy mutt. Damn! Where the hell did my bloody pants get to?

“What is it you want to tell me, Madame Saint-Pierre?”

“I don’t know if this will shock you or not, but I want a short dress.”

“How short?”

“Above the knee. I want to have my hair cut short, too. . What do you think, Madeleine?”

“I think it’s good to change your style once in a while.”

“It’s the first time. . I don’t know what’s come over me. I feel like a giddy schoolgirl. .”

Madame Saint-Pierre’s joyous laughter, followed by a long silence.

For my part, I’ve heard enough. I’m already dressed, and without making a sound I slip out the back door.

A FEW HOURS LATER, at the Rex, I’m listening with one ear to Minouche’s carrying on.

“The next time I run into that hussy I’m going to scratch her eyes out, take it from me!”

“What have you got against Simone?”

“She’s a little snob, that’s what. . She thinks she’s an intellectual because she’s read three books. The slut! I know what I’ll do, I’ll tear her clothes off her back in front of everyone. But she might like that, come to think of it, the little lesbian.”

“Will you please stop with the gratuitous vulgarity, Minouche? You’re not impressing anyone.”

“Listen, Fanfan, you know what I’m like; I haven’t changed. .”

“You’re getting upset about nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing? That bitch came to my house and started screaming at me. It’s lucky for her I wasn’t home; I’d have torn the tongue right out of her head!”

“Finish your hamburger. Anyway, it was you who went to her house.”

“Where do you get off, talking to me like that? Are you sleeping with her? What am I saying? Of course you’re sleeping with her. . So what’s new, you sleep with everyone. Have you tried doing it with animals? I’d be surprised if. .”

“Stop it, Minouche! Ah, here’s Chico. .”

“Oh, him! I can’t stand him, with his weasel’s face. . He’s only after one thing. .”

“Careful, he’s a friend.”

“A friend!” Minouche says with disdain. “All he wants is for you to pass on your girlfriends when you’re done with them. He’s like a dog waiting for his master to toss him a bone. Deep down, what he really wants is for you to fuck him in the ass.”

“You don’t mince words, do you?”

“I call a spade a spade.”

Chico comes and sits at our table.

“Hello, Minouche,” he says, all smiles.

Without unclenching her teeth, Minouche picks up her math book and leaves.

“Anyone’d think she hates your guts.”

“What’s up with her?” Chico asks, not attaching much importance to the question.

“She’s pissed off because Simone is a classier chick than she is, that’s all.”

“Right. I’m going to Torgeau to see my uncle, who promised to give me some money. Want to come?”