The French Girl (3 page)

“What is this?” she asked as she picked up the plastic wrapper and dropped it back down on the table.

“Madame Duvais was out of real bread,” I explained.  “It was all she had.”

“What about Monsieur Segal? Surely he was not out of fresh bread?”

“I did not have the time…Please, Anais.  There’s cheese, and apples and a Charleston Chew, too.”

She unwrapped the cheese and sniffed at it.  Setting the block on edge, she cut off a thin layer that was beginning to mold on each side and tossed them out the open window. Then she cut several thick slices for each of us and stared at the plastic-wrapped bread.

Shrugging her shoulders, she said, “Go ahead and open it.”

We had never eaten store bought bread before. Even the school baked fresh bread every morning.

I opened the wrapper. Every slice looked exactly the same. I picked up a slice and it felt soft in my fingers. Anais took a slice too, and wrapped it around a big slice of cheese.  She popped it in her mouth.  I did the same.  It was the strangest bread I had ever tasted, very light and airy compared to Monsieur Segal’s bread, which was crusty and heavy.  As I chewed, the bread got stuck to the roof of my mouth. I rolled my tongue around to get it off and realized Anais was doing the same thing.  We both laughed at the same time.

Anais ate hers like a sandwich but I took one slice of cheese at a time and placed it on a small piece of bread.

“Look,” I said as I pushed my thumb into a slice.  A small thumbprint remained.  I began to make shapes with my thumb in the bread.  Holding up a heart shape, I began to sing, “Anais and Luc Paul sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S…”

I suddenly realized Maman was standing in the doorway staring at me.  She was wearing an old navy-blue skirt and flowered blouse.  She held a bottle by the neck and was swaying.

“What did you just say?” she asked, her eyes flaring.

I looked at Anais, who tucked her head down.

“
Qu'avez-vous dit?
What did you just say?” Maman asked again coming closer.  She grabbed onto the back of a chair to steady herself.

“I…I…” My stomach began to flip and growl.

Anais looked up at me and gave me a small shake of her head.

Maman clung to the back of each chair as she moved closer. She grabbed my cheeks with one hand and squeezed them.  Her long red fingernails dug deep into my skin. “What did you say?” she said very slowly.

“Why don’t you go back to bed?” Anais said quietly.

I began to feel tears welling up from Maman’s fingers digging into my cheeks.

“Leave her alone,” Anais said.

Maman pushed my face away and spun towards Anais.

“
Putain
! Whore!” she said.  She swung her arm just as Anais shoved her chair back so Maman’s blow mostly caught the table.  The glass of milk went sailing across and left a white blot on the wall before shattering to the floor.  Maman clung tightly to the bottle as Anais stood up.  I backed as far away as I could from Maman as she lifted her head up and spotted the loaf of bread.  She picked it up.

“
Qu'est-ce que c'est
?  What is this?” she demanded with a sound of disgust in her voice.

“Madame Duvais was out of real bread,” I explained as fast as I could.

“The Fried Dough woman cannot even keep any decent bread?” Maman said as she took the entire loaf and heaved it, along with the block of cheese, out the open window.

I made myself as flat to the wall as I could.

“You,” she said turning to Anais, “
Pétasse
! Bitch!” she screamed.

Anais said nothing. Maman’s eyes shifted to the knife that was still sitting on the table. She picked it up by the handle and turned towards Anais.

“Maman,
Non
!” I yelled.

Maman lunged forward.  Anais stepped aside again as Maman pitched forward.  The knife plunged dead into the center of the table as Maman very slowly slid down onto the kitchen floor.  The bottle tipped over and its contents seeped into her blouse.

I stared at Maman for a few seconds before looking up at Anais.  I could see the flush of color in her cheeks.

“Anais?” I asked quietly.

Anais took the toe of her shoe and nudged Maman’s arm with it.  Maman did not move. Anais shoved her a little harder, but still, Maman did not move.

“Help me get her inside,” Anais said as she picked up the bottle and laced her arms underneath Maman’s shoulders. I thought she would weigh much more, but she wasn’t very heavy at all.

Anais set Maman on her bed and quickly unbuttoned the flowered blouse that the wine had seeped through. The bones of her chest protruded from underneath her skin.  Anais tucked Maman under the covers in just her bra and gestured for me to go out.

We went back into the kitchen and in silence, cleaned up the broken glass and spilled milk and wine.

“Are you still hungry?” Anais finally asked.

“No.”

“If you are, I have more money for food,” she said.

“Anais…” I started to say, but Anais put her hand on my arm and stopped me.

“She will sleep through to the morning now.  You will be alright. I have somewhere I need to go.”

“But Anais,” I protested, “please don’t…”

Anais brushed the hair off my face just as Maman used to do and touched my cheeks where Maman’s fingers had dug in.

“It is alright, Etoile.  Everything will be alright. Go to bed early. I will be back later.”

***

I sat up for a long time on the sofa, which was also my bed since there were only two bedrooms in the apartment and tried to read the copy of
Black Beauty
that Mrs. Gordon had loaned me but I could not focus on the words.  I kept listening towards the hallway, but Maman did not stir.

A few hours later I heard the front door open. I could smell the cigarette smoke drifting off Anais’ clothes as she passed by.

“Anais,” I called.

“Go back to sleep,” she whispered.

“Anais,” I said again and she paused.  “Anais, will Maman ever be alright again?” I asked, but she ignored the question and went straight to her room.

I lay back down and tried to fall asleep, but a cool breeze brushed against my skin. The kitchen window was still wide open.  I glanced down into the alley as I went to shut it and saw the white shadow of the store-bought bread being dragged along by something in the black of the night.

CHAPTER THREE

T
wo days later, I was sitting against the crook of a tree watching some of the girls hopping to a game of
Marelles
on the playground when I tasted the saltiness of a cool sea breeze in my mouth. The girls all brushed the hair back from their faces as the wind twisted it around.  I wrapped my arms tighter around my waist as goose bumps crept up my skin.  A secret wind I thought to myself.

***

As I joined the others heading back into school I noticed Frankie Lavasseur, who was so much bigger than all the other children, pointing towards the wall where our “Names as Art” projects hung.  Spotting me in the crowd, he began to chant, “Toilette Toussaint, Toilette Toussaint.”  I glanced up at my poster and saw that the letters of my name had been rearranged. The other children began to join in.  I felt my cheeks flush and my stomach churn.

“To your classes!” Mrs. Gordon suddenly bellowed from behind. The children moved along obediently, but I remained standing there. The white paint on the concrete walls began to spin around.

“Etoile,” I heard Mrs. Gordon say, but I had trouble figuring out which direction to turn.  “Etoile,” she said again placing her hand on my shoulder to steady me.

I tried to look up at her but my eyes couldn’t seem to focus.

She knelt down to my level.  “Etoile, what did you eat for breakfast this morning?”

“Cereal, I think,” I lied.

She untaped my project from the wall and rolled it up with great care.  “We will fix this later.  In the meantime, why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and see if Mrs. Levesque can find you something to eat?  Tell her I said it was okay and that I will speak with her in a….”

Mrs. Gordon stopped and looked past me.  I turned around. For a moment, I almost thought I saw the county woman talking to the school principal, Mrs. Varrone.  I blinked several times until my eyes focused on the white shoes.  They walked straight towards us.  Mrs. Gordon put her arm on my shoulder and drew me closer.

“Mrs. Gordon,” Mrs. Varrone said glancing at me, “may I speak to you in private for a moment please? Etoile, you may stay right here.”

The two women walked a bit down the hall while the county woman looked me up and down.

“Do you remember me, Etoile?  I’m Mrs. Galloway,” she said.  “We met at your apartment the other day.”

I nodded and gulped.  I pushed my hand into my stomach against the pain.

Mrs. Gordon and Mrs. Varrone came back down the hall. Mrs. Gordon looked a little pale as she put her arm around my shoulder and said, “Come with us, please, Etoile.”

They led me into Mrs. Varrone’s office and shut the door. I waited for someone to say something and finally, Mrs. Gordon said, “Etoile, have you met Mrs. Galloway?”

I looked up at the county woman and nodded.

“Etoile, I’m very, very sorry to have to tell you this, but there has been a terrible accident…”

Mrs. Gordon reached forward to hug me, but I broke away and raced towards the entrance of the school.  I heard all three women shout my name, but I kept running.  I ran past the empty playground, down the road towards the center of Cote Nouveau, past Monsieur Cavelle’s flower stand where I caught the scent of roses for just a second, past
Le Gateau
which had a “Closed” sign dangling on the front door. I nearly stumbled as I turned my head because I had never known
Le Gateau
to be closed in the middle of the day, ever.  As I passed The Thirsty Fish, Luc Paul came out and spotted me.

“Etoile!” I heard him call, but I kept on running.  He started after me, but I was much faster.  My lungs were beginning to burn. I was aware of people calling my name as I sailed past them.

Turning the corner, I saw several police cars and an ambulance at the entrance of the apartment building. Two men in white shirts came from behind the building near the alley pulling a steel gurney.  The body was wrapped tightly in black plastic and strapped down heavily as if it was going to try and escape. I stopped in my tracks.  I did not like how tight the straps had been pulled down.  It made everything look flat.

A sudden gust of wind came out of nowhere billowing the men’s white shirts out from their waists, but the black plastic sheet did not stir one bit.

A car’s breaks screeched behind me as the county woman pulled up.  I bolted up the stairs, but a policeman stood at the entrance of my apartment.

“Sorry, Miss, no one can go in there,” he said pointing to the yellow tape strung across the entrance.

“Anais!” I yelled. “Anais!”

From deep within the apartment, I heard someone call my name.  Ignoring the policeman, I ducked under the tape and ran inside.

“Hey!” the policeman said as he tried to maneuver under the tape to stop me.  “I said you cannot…”

There were several policemen in our living room lifting cushions, opening drawers, and touching everything we owned.  They all looked up as I bolted in.

“Anais!” I yelled.

She was sitting in one of the chrome silver chairs smoking a cigarette, staring at the open window across from her.  She did not get up.

“Anais,” I said throwing my arms around her neck.  She kissed my hair.

“It is okay, Etoile,” she said stroking at my head and drawing me very close to her. “
Il est partout maintenant
.  It is all over now,” she whispered.

“What do you mean, Anais?” I said pulling back.

She put a finger to my lips.

A man wearing a gun on his belt was taking photographs while another had a long tape measure and was measuring near the window.

“Who is this?” the man with the measuring tape asked as he stood up.

“This is my sister, Etoile.”

He had a very large, bald head. He stooped down to me.  “Hello, Etoile.  My name is Detective Brody and I want you to know how sorry I am about your mother.”

I looked at Anais, but she turned away and looked towards the window.

“Why don’t you come out with me into the other room?  We need to talk to your sister alone.”

“
Non
.  I will stay with Anais,” I said.

Detective Brody put a hand under my arm and tried to pull me away.

“
Non
!” I yelled.  “
Je veux rester avec Anais!
I want to stay with Anais!”

Anais turned to me and touched my arm with her hand.  I noticed for the first time, that her nails were painted bright red.  “Go with them, Etoile,” she said.  “Do what they ask you to do.”

“But Anais!” I said again.

“Go with them,” she said again as she picked up the cigarette and took a long, slow drag.

***

The Detective led me by the arm to the living room where the county woman was standing.  She was very out of breath.  Her skin was flushed and beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. Her chest rose and fell quickly.

“You…you should not have run off like that,” she said between breaths. Turning to the detective, she said, “I am Audrey Galloway of County Services.”  She opened her wallet and took out a card. The detective glanced at it and nodded.  “May I speak to you for a moment in private?” she asked.

The detective turned to the policeman at the door and gestured towards me with his head.  “Make sure this one stays put,” he said as he and Mrs. Galloway stepped outside.

“Etoile,” Mrs. Galloway said when they returned, “You are going to have to come with me now.”

“I will stay here with Anais.”

Mrs. Galloway looked at Detective Brody and shook her head.

“Anais needs to go with the policemen for a little while.  You will come with me.”

“Then I will go with them. I will go with the policemen too. I want to stay with Anais.”

Mrs. Galloway produced a white handkerchief with a rose on the corner of it and dabbed at her sweaty forehead. “I know this is very hard for you to understand, but you cannot be with Anais right now.  I have spoken to your neighbor, Mrs. Lavasseur, and she has agreed to let you stay with her for a few days.”

“Mrs. Lavasseur?  But I do not…I cannot…”

“Let’s go gather some of your things together. Show me to your bedroom,” she said putting a sweaty hand on my back.

The policemen started to leave.

“Please,” I said turning to her.  “Please!  Do not make me go anywhere. I want to stay with Anais."

“I’m afraid that is not possible,” the county woman said more firmly.

“But why not?” I said.  “Why not?  She is old enough to take care of me.  Please, Madame. 
S’il vous plait!
. Please!”

“Your sister needs to go with the policemen and talk to them down at the station right now.  And by the law, she is not old enough to care for you…”

The detective came out of the kitchen with his hand under Anais’ arm.

I ran towards her, but the other policeman grabbed me.

“Anais! Anais!” I yelled, struggling to get free but his grip was too strong.

Anais picked her chin up and looked straight ahead, just the way Maman did and walked out.

“Come now, let’s get some of your things. Where is your room?”

I pointed towards Anais’ bedroom.  Mrs. Galloway handed me a small blue bag and watched as I pushed aside her stack of Teen Beat magazines with “Set your hair like Farrah’s!” on the cover along with a picture of a shirtless Greg Brady.  I rummaged through Anais’ dressers, taking several of her sweaters as well as her key chain with her initials engraved on it that Papa had once given her and slipped it into my pocket.

“Excuse me,” one of the policemen said to Mrs. Galloway, “they need to speak to you again for just a moment.”

I waited until she left the room before slipping across the hall to Maman’s room and opening the door. The pillow was still dented from Maman’s head.  Two empty bottles stood side by side on the table next to her bed. I opened up her dresser drawer and rummaged through her blouses.  I just wanted to touch something that had been against her skin.  I felt something hard.  Glancing back at the door, I pulled out a thin, black box that had been tucked beneath the blouses and opened it.  Inside was a necklace with a big ruby stone at the center and diamonds all around.  Hearing nearby voices, I quickly shoved it back in the drawer.  The bottle of bright red nail polish that Maman always wore was sitting on top of the dresser.  I slipped it into my pocket.