Philippe Djian - Betty Blue

“Tell me what I can get you,” I said.

“I want something fabulous,” she said.

Betty melted into a chair, sighing.

“Make that two,” she said.

I went up to her, raised her chin, and kissed her theatrically. I could hear them laughing behind me, but I didn’t care. I took my time. I found that it was even better after the kind of day we’d had-a broiling kiss served up hot. Then I went and started on the drinks, Mario came around to see what was going on, but was too tired to stay-he just kissed the two girls and split. I’d made enough for five, which left us with four very full glasses. It was something I’d come up with on the spur of the moment, something a bit rough around the edges.

It leveled Eddie right off the bat. He didn’t notice, but everyone else did. He started regaling us with some wild idea about seeing the sun rise over the snow. He couldn’t live without seeing it.

“What the hell are you bothering us with that shit for?” I said.

“Man, can you imagine anything prettier? What’s Christmas without a little snow?”

“It’s like a peanut with nobody inside.”

“Hey, we can go in the car. Try not to spoil my fun, okay?”

I felt the girls going soft. They were not particularly low on the idea.

“Shit, you have any idea what it’ll be like out there in the cold? You playing with a full deck, guy?”

“I just want to see your face when the first rays come through the flakes. I want to see you wisecrack then…”

“It’s not that. I’m sure it’s great-the sun, the snow, and all that stuff-it’s certainly awesome, but it’s not that. What I’m wondering, Eddie, is just how you think you’re going to drive in the condition you’re in?”

“Shit,” he said. “Shit-I’m going to teach you something. There is no condition that I can’t drive a car in.”

His eyes were shining like flying saucers. It’s the gin, I said to myself. I had to admit that I’d been a little heavy-handed with the gin-I’d let myself go.

“You’re going to get us all killed!” I said.

Everyone laughed, except me. Five minutes later we were in the car, waiting for Eddie to find the keys. I sighed softly. “What’s with you?” he said. “Don’t you think this is fun? It’s Christmas-don’t worry about a thing! Everything’s going to be hunky-dory. Here they are…”

He jingled his keys under my nose and one of them gave me a spark-blue and cold. Nice little cunt of a key, I thought-go piss up a rope. I hunched down in my seat.

We crossed town in the wee hours. The streets were practically deserted, and that made it nice-we could drive down the middle at low speeds, spotting the lights from far away in the mild dawn fog. I wondered where all the people were, if the sidewalk hadn’t swallowed them in the night. The girls were laughing in the backseat. We left the city, headed for the blazing horizon, we had to hurry. We all had drawn-out faces-all so tired. Still, a new energy slowly slid into the car. We rounded the cape and headed for the sun on that December morning, lighting cigarettes and talking nonsense, while a new day was getting ready to be lived. We drove for a while, until we came to a snow-covered field. There were a few large buildings-factories-in the background, but we didn’t have time to find anything better. By then it was a matter of minutes. We parked on the side of the road. The sky was clearing. There was the sensation of abominable temperatures-approaching zero, with icy winds. We got out of the car anyway, slapping our arms.

In two seconds flat, my nose started running, and my eyes teared. Seats were expensive for this early bloodless morning-it was enough to make your hair fall out. After the work we’d put in the night before, the tranquility of this little corner of the world seemed somehow grotesque. I mean it. Eddie had his hat pulled down over his eyes; he was smoking a cigarette and sitting on the hood of the car, his face turned toward the flames.

“Jesus Christ,” I said. “Jesus Christ, Eddie, you falling asleep there…?”

“Stop blabbering and look…”

He motioned to me to turn around. lust then a grazing ray of sunlight swept over the field of snow. We witnessed a festival of sparkles-golds and blues. In the end it was nothing to write home about-I had to struggle to keep from yawning. It’s all a matter of disposition here on earth. That morning I was rather disposed to shiver, trampling those dear little flakes underfoot. I was not interested in anything too profound. I was interested only in finding someplace warm, where I could do something that wasn’t too tiring-blinking for instance-and as little of that as possible. Betty had been out of jail for two days, and I hadn’t slept in three nights. It would take more than a ray of sunshine to get me excited, I was still standing only by the grace of God. A whole day talking to Betty, a whole night decorating the dining room, and finally that miserable Christmas Eve running around between tables, body racked with pain. I was not about to let a frigid little wind come crack every tooth in my mouth, and then smile about it.

Even though I was freezing to death, we didn’t leave right away. The girls decided that they simply couldn’t leave without feeding the little birds. I was starting to feel weak. The sun was coming up but it wasn’t giving off much heat. I felt death approaching. The girls miraculously managed to find some crackers in the glove compartment, and off they went, rosy-cheeked and Santa Claus-smiling. It was “Oh this” and “Ah that” and “Let’s smash these crackers into a thousand crumbs and throw them in the air by the fistful.”

I sat in the car with the door open, my feet outside. I smoked a cigarette while the sparrows came and landed in the snow like rain.

Eddie was out there too. I watched them all laughing, dumping tons of food on the poor birds’ heads, imagining that each crumb represented the equivalent of a large steak and french fries, and it occurred to me that you could probably kill them like that: force-feeding them fifteen or twenty main dishes in a row, things they’d never ordered.

“Merry Christmas, fellas!” Eddie yelled. “Come and get it, boys!”

One bird showed up after the others. I saw him come from the end of the sky, then change course suddenly, his two legs sticking forward. He set himself down away from the others, apparently uninterested in what his friends were up to. He looked away while the steaks tumbled onto his back. I thought it must be the village idiot-he needed a few extra minutes to get what was happening.

He started coming toward me-taking little hops, his feet together. He stopped ten inches from my shoes. We looked at each other for a few seconds.

“Right,” I said. “Maybe you’re not as dumb as you look.”

I had the feeling that something was going on between the bird and me. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I asked the others to throw me a cracker, caught it on the fly. It seemed to be less cold out than before. Life is full of small nothings that warm your heart. You can’t ask for the moon. I crushed the cracker with my fingers and leaned forward. The bird foraged under his wings, like somebody who has lost his wallet. I started dropping the crumbs under his nose, smiling in advance. I knew I was working a miracle-making a small mountain of food appear at his very feet. He looked at me and cocked his head.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “You’re not dreaming.”

I don’t know what the little jerk was thinking of-here was this freight car full of merchandise in front of him and he seemed not to even see it. I could hardly believe my eyes, couldn’t get over it. I wondered if there was something wrong with the crackers. How could you possibly not notice that sunlit hill of goodies glowing like a gold-leafed temple, unless you were doing it on purpose. Still, he looked away, ignoring what I’d done, and hopped away to a place where there was nobody around and not a bite to eat. He looked like a penguin walking straight for a precipice.