Philippe Djian - Betty Blue

Her boyfriend looked away sadly. Betty seemed paralyzed. I threw my dish towel on the floor and went over. I turned to Eddie.

“It’s all right,” I said. “Just put their bill on my account and get them out of here. I’ll explain later…”

“Jesus, now I’ve seen everything,” the lady said. “I’d like to know just who’s in charge of this greasy spoon!”

“Fine. What color is your coat?” I asked.

“Don’t stick your nose in this! Co back to your dish towels!” she said.

“Easy does it…” I said.

“That’s enough! Get out of my sight!”

At these words Betty let out a horrifying scream-almost animal-the kind that makes your blood run cold. I had barely seen her grab the fork off another table when the room seemed to light up, and she jumped at the lady with the speed of lightning.

She plunged the fork wildly into her arm. The woman let out a shriek. Betty pulled the fork out and plunged it in again, a bit higher up. The woman fell over backward and tumbled over a chair, her arm covered with blood. Everyone seemed petrified, but the lady shrieked even louder when she saw Betty coming at her again brandishing the fork. She tried to climb up on her back.

It was suddenly hot as hell. It woke me up. I had just enough time to grab Betty around the waist to keep her from doing something really stupid. I pulled her backward with all my strength and we rolled under a table. My muscles were so tense that I felt like I’d fallen over with a bronze statue in my arms. When our eyes met, I realized that she didn’t even recognize me anymore-then I felt the fork go into my back. The pain went up to my skull. I managed to grab her hand and twist it until she let go of the fork. It rang on the tile like something that had fallen from the sky, shining and covered with blood.

The people immediately gathered around us. All I could see was their legs, but by then my mind wasn’t registering anything. I felt Betty trembling under me. I felt sick.

“Betty,” I said. “It’s all over. Calm down. It’s all over…” I held her hands against the floor and she shook her head, moaning. I didn’t understand anything-all I knew was that I couldn’t let her go. I felt miserable.

Eddie stuck his head down under the table. I could see other faces crowded together behind his. I moved around so they couldn’t see her, and gave Eddie a frantic glance.

“Eddie, please… get them out of here…”

“Shit, what the hell happened?” he said.

“She’s got to have some space. EDDIE, GET THEM THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, GODDAMMIT!”

He stood up and I heard him talking to people, moving them toward the door. Brave Eddie, wonderful Eddie. I knew that what I had asked him to do wasn’t easy-people turn into mad dogs when you try to take their bones away. Betty was shaking her head like a metronome, while I stammered out stupidities like What’s wrong sweetheart, aren’t you feeling well?…

I heard the door shut. Eddie came back. He crouched down next to the table. He seemed genuinely upset.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with her?” he asked.

“Nothing. She’s calming down now. I’ll stay with her.”

“She should rinse her face off.”

“Yes, I’ll take care of it. Just leave us alone.”

“You don’t want me to help?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine…”

“All right. I’ll wait out in the car.”

“No, don’t bother. Don’t worry, I’ll close up. Go on home, Eddie. Fuck, just leave me alone with her.”

He waited for a moment, then touched my shoulder and stood up.

“I’ll go out through the kitchen. I’ll close up behind Mario.”

He turned all the lights off before he left-all except a small lamp behind the bar. I heard them talking in the kitchen for a second, then the back door closed. Silence poured into the restaurant like glue.

She wasn’t shaking her head anymore, but her body was stiff as stone against me. It was almost frightening. I felt like I was lying across railroad tracks. I let go of her gently, and when I saw that it was okay, I slid over next to her. I saw that we were drenched in sweat. The tile was glazed and sticky, covered with cigarette butts-a dream.

I touched her shoulder-her wonderful small shoulder. I shouldn’t have. Her reaction was terrifying. The touch of my hand set something off in her brain. She turned, groaned, and burst into sobs. It was like someone had stabbed me.

I stroked her gently, pressing against her back, but nothing helped. She was crouched down in a fetal position, her hair falling all over her amid the shit-fists held tight against her mouth. Crying and moaning. Her stomach jumped as if there were a beast trapped inside it. We stayed like that for quite a while, the pale light of the street reflecting on the floor. It was as if all the world’s misery had convened under that table. I was broken, at the end of my wits. It did no good to talk. I had no magic words. I’d tried them all. It was a bitter pill to swallow for the writer. I wasn’t sure she even knew I was there.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I got up and moved the table away. I had a hard time lifting Betty up-she seemed to weigh six hundred pounds. I lost my balance a little going behind the counter, and wreaked havoc with the bottles, but this was the least of my problems. I wedged my ass against the stainless-steel sink and got the cold water running.

God forgive me. I rolled her hair up in my hand-I had a sort of veneration for her hair-and when I was sure I had a good grip on her, I stuck her head under the faucet.

I counted to ten while she struggled. The water sprayed all over the place. I didn’t like doing it, but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know anything anymore. Anything about women… anything about anything.

I let her choke just a little, then let her go. She let out a big cough, then threw herself at me.

“You son of a bitch!” she screamed. “You son of a bitch!”

She slapped me across the face. I managed to get out of the way of a second slap, as well as a kick in the shins. She pulled her hair back and looked at me. Then she slid all the way down the bar, covering it with hot tears. I didn’t get shaken, though-I’d seen this before-what happens when your nerves start to let go. All there is to do is wait. I used the pause to fill up a glass. I pushed up on the measuring spigot of a bottle hung upside down-one shot, two, three… Over the lips, past the gums, look out stomach here it comes… I downed it in one gulp with my head tilted back, and with the same movement backed up against the wall. I closed my eyes. I listened to her crying. I needed a breather.

I breathed for a second, but when I accidentally pushed back on my wound I jumped. I rushed back to the measuring spigot, gnashing my teeth. Fill ‘er up-I poured two more glasses and then slid up beside her. I put my arm around her shoulder. I looked at my glass gleaming in the lamplight, then downed it.

By now she was feeling better-just sniffling. She was sitting with her knees against her chest, her forehead on her knees, and her face behind her hair, which I separated with my hand to offer her a drink. She shook her head. I had an extra glass on my hands, so I stretched my legs out in front of me to relax a little. I’d gone past the tired stage and now felt myself sort of floating. It was a nicer feeling than an hour ago-wiped out, but painless. I kissed her neck softly. She’d been cold before, now she came alive. I swallowed my drink to celebrate-it was the least I could do.

“Usually people fall off their stools on the other side of the bar,” I said. “I’m glad we’ve managed to be different.”

That night I fucked Betty with new passion. By some miracle we’d found a taxi just as we came out of the restaurant, and I’d hugged her tight all the way home-very tight. We went in through the back door to avoid running into Lisa and Eddie, but the house was silent and dark-we could have just gone straight in and up to bed. Though we hardly said two words to each other, we made up for it in other ways: I said all I had to say-several times-in the depths of her vagina.