Philippe Djian - Betty Blue

“There’s enough here for three days,” I said. “That is, if you’d like to invite me to your house.”

She leaned against the car and pulled me to her. It lasted five minutes. It would have gone longer, if I hadn’t pulled myself away-if I hadn’t stayed lucid.

“We’re not going to let a strawberry cream pie melt away, are we? That would be stupid!”

It took two trips to get it all up to the cabin. The land was really sloped, and the sun was already hot. Betty ran all over the place, picking up strange pebbles or standing with her hand shielding her eyes, looking at the horizon. “Jesus, I just can’t believe it,” she kept saying.

As for me, I knew I’d scored big-my all-time-high game. It was a little nothing of a cabin, yet there she was, running her fingers along the windowsills, biting her lip, and turning in circles. I wasn’t allowed to drop my ashes on the floor either. Soon, I thought, we’ll be playing house, making make-believe dinner. That’s exactly what we did. It was real champagne we poured into the paper cups, though.

“When I think…” she said. “When I think that I’ve had to wait thirty years for someone to give me a present like this…!”

I winked at her. I was pleased with myself. The guy figured he’d unloaded his little piece of desert for a hefty sum, and I felt I’d bought a little bit of paradise for a song. I’d been working on the whole thing for a week now, figuring out every detail. Bob was the one who’d put me onto it. We took a quick trip one day to look at it, and my mind was made up immediately. I’d told him, You know, Bob, at first I was just going to buy her a plant, but I realized it would be too small for her, I want to buy her a stretch of mountains or something-a branch of the sea… You wouldn’t know where I could find something like that, would you?

I put the champagne back in the ice chest to cool, and we went out for a walk. By the time we got back, it was just perfect. While she was laying out the comforter, I went down to the car to get the radio, and a stack of magazines I had piled up on the backseat. Once touched by civilization, it’s hard to leave it completely behind. I filled my pockets with packs of cigarettes and went back up, sucking on a stem as I walked.

We spent some time getting settled, then had a drink outside on a rock. It was hot. I half closed my eyes to the setting sun. I cut the pure air of the bourbon with a handful of black olives. They were the kind I liked best, with the pit that comes away clean from the meat with an air of calm. I lay down on one elbow. It was then that I perceived a sparkling in the ground. Under the angled sun, the earth had taken to scintillating like a princess’s gown. God Almighty, this is too much, I said, yawning-this is really wild.

Betty had adopted a more classic position-a lotus-type thing, her back straight and her regard turned inward. She’s going to split her jeans, I thought. I couldn’t remember if I’d brought along another pair for her to change into. We watched a small bird pass by overhead. I was starting to drown in my bourbon. Who could ever hold it against me for getting a little drunk on her thirtieth birthday?

“It’s weird to have bought something like this,” she said. “It seems impossible.”

“The papers are in order, don’t worry.”

“No, I mean to buy something that comes all together like this, with its land, its smells, its little noises, the light-everything.”

I peacefully bit into a piece of smoked chicken.

“Yeah, well, that’s the way it is,” I said. “Everything here is yours.”

“You mean the sunset hanging there in the treetops is mine?”

“Unquestionably.”

“You mean the silence, and the little breeze going down the hill-I own it?”

“Yes. You got the keys right there in your hand…”

“Well, he must have been crazy, the guy who sold you all this!”

I didn’t answer. I drew a line of mayonnaise across my chicken leg. There were also those who would think it was crazy to have bought a place like that. I bit into the middle of my leg. The world seemed to cut itself tragically in two.

After dinner, she decided to make a fire. I wanted to help, but realized that I was incapable of moving. I excused myself, saying it was better that I not try anything foolish in the dark-crossing the terrain, for example-lest I be found later in the bottom of a ravine. She stood up, smiling.

“You know, men aren’t the only ones who know how to make fires.”

“No, but in general they’re the only ones who know how to put them out.”

It was almost totally dark out-I had trouble seeing anything. I stretched out full-length, my cheek against the rock. Through the darkness, I heard the cracking of small pieces of wood in the dark. It was soothing. I also heard mosquitoes. I don’t know why, but when she lit the fire, my strength came back. I managed to stand up. My mouth was dry.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Thing in the car,” I said.

The glow of the fire stayed in my eyes. I couldn’t see anything, but I remembered that the terrain was difficult. I did the soldier’s step and proceeded through the darkness lifting my feet high off the ground. Though I almost took one or two nosedives, all in all I did pretty well. I stopped for a moment halfway down just to savor the joy of being drunk and still standing. I felt the sweat run down my back. When I had first decided to stand up, I had thought myself a fool-part of me had wanted to stay plastered on the ground. The other part won out. Now I realized that I’d done the right thing. I’d been right to make myself get up on my feet. You never regret going the extra mile. It always lifts your spirits.

I sniffled once, softly, then went off again on my little stroll, my hands out in front and my heart light. I believe it was a small round pebble that made me fall. I believe it sincerely-otherwise, why would my foot have shot out in front of me like an arrow, why would the image of a bag of marbles exploding in all directions suddenly have come into my head? I experienced a moment of horrible lucidity before slamming into the earth. My body ignited. I started rolling down the hill in a sort of secondary state-just this side of comatose.

The journey ended right in front of the car’s left front tire, into which I smashed my head. I didn’t hurt anything. I stayed there on the ground for a minute, trying to comprehend what had happened. When you’re sixty such things are unforgiving-when you’re thirty-five they’re sort of laughable. Through the darkness, I saw the car door handle sparkling above my head. I grabbed it and pulled myself up. It was a major effort to remember what I had come down there to get-as if a jar of glue had been spilled on my head. Something to do with mosquitoes… yes… right… the Bug Bomb! I knew I’d thought of everything!

I got the can out of the glove compartment. I pretended not to see myself in the rearview mirror-I just passed a hand through my hair. I stayed there for a while, sitting in the front seat with my legs outside, watching the fire burning up top, the cabin dancing behind it as if it were sitting on top of the world. I tried not to think of what I still had to do.

At least I knew I couldn’t get lost. All I had to do was head for the light. Still, I felt like I was at the bottom of the Himalayas.

We woke up the next day around noon. I got up to make coffee. While the water was heating, I went into Betty’s purse to look for some aspirin. Inside, I found other bottles.

“What’s all this?” I asked. “These pills?”

She lifted her head up, then put it back down.

“Oh, nothing,” she said. “Just for when I can’t sleep,”