The French Girl

by Felicia Donovan

  Anais rolled over on her side and snugged her back against mine. “I am too tired to talk right now,” she said. “Perhaps another time.”

  “But Anais!” I protested. Her breathing quickly grew very deep and I knew she was asleep.

  It was some time before I fell asleep. I lay quietly watching Anais’ chest rise and fall with each breath. Her long brown hair cascaded across the pillow just like Maman’s. It felt strange for her to be there and I felt a momentary twang of guilt over the fact that we had both changed so much, as if our lives had, in just a short few months, grown very separate.

  I listened to the sounds of the peepers in the vernal pond that emptied at the end of the small stream, and the crickets calling for each other. A light breeze drifted through the open window and in the moonlight, I watched the soft tendrils of Anais’s hair flutter against it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I woke up the next morning to find Anais gone from my bed. Panicked, I threw on my slippers and ran down the stairs. Surely she would not have left without saying goodbye. I got to the bottom of the stairs and was relieved to hear soft voices coming from the kitchen. I almost barged in, but as I got closer, I saw Anais and Giselle seated across from each other and stopped. Their hands were both clasped tightly around their coffee cups, their heads lowered, almost as if in prayer, so I stopped and waited. I crept closer to the entrance of the kitchen and listened.

  ***

  “She kept her stash of money under the mattress,” Anais said. “I found it one day and realized that is how she always had money for her wine. Madame Duvais would not sell it to her anymore but there were others who would, and Maman knew exactly who to ask and how to get them to buy it for her.”

  “I had split from school early that day. What was the point? I did not care about what they were teaching me anyway. She was lying alone in her bed when I got there, breathing very deeply. I nudged her several times to make sure she would not wake up. When she did not stir, I reached under the mattress and grabbed as much of it as I could because we had no food.”

  “She had caught me stealing from her before, but then again, she knew I knew how she got the money in the first place. She was still sound asleep when I grabbed the money, but when I turned, he was standing there in the doorway, just looking at me. I did not even realize he was in the apartment.”

  Anais paused and rubbed the back of her hand on her face. Giselle leaned forward and touched her arm. Anais did not pull back.

  “I could see in his eyes what his intentions were as he narrowed them on me. Oh, those eyes… Eyes that are empty and full at the same time…”

  “I remember,” Giselle said quietly.

  “He squinted them and said, “Do you always steal from your mother?” I did not know what to say. Then he gestured to the door and said, “Where is your room?”

  Giselle shut her eyes and bit her lower lip.

  “It happened very quickly. He got up afterwards and went to go out through the back door of the kitchen, but she was sitting there, smoking her cigarette and clutching a glass of wine. She saw me fumble at the buttons on my blouse and her eyes grew very wide. They would go almost black when she got upset. She looked at both of us for several minutes before things began to register. She kept looking from me to him and then her hands began to shake terribly. I tried to step away from her, but she knocked the glass over and lunged towards me, wrapping her hands around my throat. Even though she was shaky, she was still very strong. I waited for him to do something, but he did not. I tried to get her arms unclasped, but she was strong with rage and just kept squeezing.”

  Giselle took Anais’ hand in hers and held it for a moment. Giselle looked as if she was about to cry.

  “Finally, I saw him step behind her and he was able to pry her hands off of my throat. I suppose, for that one small gesture, I should be grateful. As soon as I was clear of her hands on my throat, I stepped back, hoping to make it to the back door. The kitchen window was open as it often was. My hands were shaking as I tried to get the door open but the latch had broken months ago and was very difficult to undo. I glanced over my shoulder because I thought he was holding her, but he had let her go. She came running towards me. I stepped towards the window thinking she would keep going towards the door. Just before she reached me, I flattened my body up against the cabinets.”

  “Perhaps her foot caught the leg of the table or perhaps she was just too off balance, but I saw her, almost in slow motion, as she began to stumble forward. The distance between her and the window narrowed and I watched the look on her face as she passed inches from me, the blackness of her eyes, the hatred in them. I did not reach for her. She was still running forward, stumbling. I do not think she ever even realized what was happening until she was actually out the window.”

  “We stood in the kitchen, he and I, waiting for a sound, but there was none. No scream, no cry, no loud thump as she hit the ground. It was silent. Everything had grown very silent. We looked at each other and he put his finger to his lips and came towards me again. I backed as far away and he seemed to realize this was big trouble, so he made me swear not to tell anyone and left by the front door. I sat down at the table and smoked a cigarette. Monsieur Dumont found her in the alley minutes later.”

  Anais stopped and Giselle leaned forward and touched Anais’ hair.

  “At first, they did not believe me. They suggested all kinds of things and for three days, made me repeat the story over and over. He was well known in town. He gave to their charities. They had no reason to doubt his word, but every reason to doubt mine when they found out I had been with others. I did what I had to do for me and for Etoile. Finally, enough people came forward to say they remembered the Closed sign on the window because it was so unusual. Then, they came back to the apartment and took away my bedclothes. They said they would run some tests and finally confronted him.

  But it was Madame Duvais who told the police that she specifically remembered going to his shop to get more bread and finding him in it, scrubbing his hands and acting very nervous. He tried to burn his clothes in the brick oven, but they found them too and got to them before he could. Otherwise, I would be in jail.”

  “I am so sorry, Anais,” Giselle finally said. “He should have been stopped years ago. I tried to tell them too, but my mother refused to believe me.”

  “I figured that when I saw the painting. You would not have left Le Gateau out unless there was a reason.”

  “I could not bear to give permanence to something so vile.”

  “He is the one in jail now.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “Many have come forward since. He will be there for a long time.”

  Giselle nodded. “You were very brave, Anais.”

  Anais put her head down and her shoulders began to shake. Giselle pulled her close and nuzzled her head in her hair.

  “It is all right, Cherie,” she said. “It is all over now.”

  ***

  I thought of Monsieur Segal and all of his questions and how strongly Giselle had reacted when I had first mentioned his name. Then, I remembered racing from the school to the apartment building that day and there being a closed sign on his shop and how for just a second, it crossed my mind that I had never seen Le Gateau closed in the middle of the day.

  I stood there motionless, trying to take it all in. It felt like the times when the wind blew so strong that it knocked the power out and we would all suddenly be aware of how very quiet the house was. It was the absence, not the presence of something that sharpened everything, yet of what I did not know.

  I retreated back upstairs to my room and climbed back in my bed. I waited until Giselle came up and shook me, calling “Wake up Sleepy Head,” because I did not ever want her to know that I knew.

  Anais’ eyes looked puffy and she quickly looked away from me.

  “We will have a good breakfast then we must drop Anais back at the train station.”

  “May I co
me?”

  “Of course.”

  Giselle let me have Cap’N Crunch cereal while she made Anais a large egg omelet. Anais finished off the eggs, the toast, the ham and drank all the orange juice.

  The train station was about an hour away. We arrived a few minutes before the train and sat in the waiting room with Anais, who carried a small bag with her.

  “Jean was sorry she could not come to say goodbye, but she has classes this morning. She asked me to wish you good luck.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You must let us know everything going on and keep us posted on Sister Frances.”

  “It will not be the same without Aimee,” Anais said, “but she swears she will not go without a bang.”

  Giselle laughed. “Then we will most certainly look forward to hearing everything.”

  Anais slid her bag off her shoulder and said, “I almost forgot.” She unzipped the top and took out a small, flat box wrapped in yellow paper with bright orange flowers on it and handed it to me. “Happy Birthday, Etoile.” I took the box from her and opened it up. Inside was a very old silver picture frame just the right size to fit the picture of Josette Simone.

  “Thank you, Anais, but how did you know?”

  “Giselle gave me the idea,” Anais explained.

  “It will fit perfectly, I’m sure.” I hugged Anais just as the train was called.

  Anais stopped and faced Giselle, who touched her hair and said, “Soin de prise de vous-même. Take care of yourself, Cherie. If you need anything, all you have to do is ask.”

  “Merci.”

  Giselle pulled Anais towards her and kissed her lightly on both cheeks. We watched her walk very slowly towards the train, never looking back. Giselle slipped her arm around my shoulder and I knew it would be a long time before I saw my sister again.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  One Sunday morning, while Giselle was busy cleaning the leftovers from one of their Saturday night gatherings, I begged Jean to take me for a bike ride. We rode down the main road towards the big hill when Jean abruptly stopped and said, “Let’s turn back now.”

  “But Jean…”

  “It’s a lot steeper than it looks, Etoile.”

  “But you do it, Jean.”

  “I have ten speeds on my bike, Etoile. I can downshift and use my handbrakes.”

  “But I have brakes, too, Jean. Please! We can go very slow and if it is too steep, we can dismount and walk down. Please, Jean!”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Come on, Jean, last one down is a rotten egg!” I said racing past her.

  “Etoile!” I heard her yell, but I was already ahead of her. The trees seemed to fly past me. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time as things blurred past. I heard Jean call my name and soon she was behind me.

  “Slow down, Etoile,” she called, but the ground became steeper and steeper. My feet began to slip off the pedals.

  “Slow down! Use your brakes!” Jean called again, but I could not get my feet secured on the pedals to apply the brakes. The trees became a blur as I suddenly felt the front wheel hit something and lurch to the side. My whole body seemed to shift to the right as one foot hit the ground momentarily and the bike began to spin out from underneath me. I tried desperately to get my feet down, but I was going much too fast and I went one way hitting the ground hard with my knee, while the bike went another. I lay there dazed for several seconds, only aware of a flame of pain that shot through my right knee like a hot poker was being held against it. I closed my eyes against the pain and clutched at it.

  Jean skidded her bike out on the back wheels sending a cloud of dust my way. I covered my eyes against it as she ran towards me.

  “Etoile, Etoile!” she said kneeling down beside me. “Are you alright?”

  “Je suis si désolé. Je ne pourrais pas m'arrêter.”

  “In English!” Jean said, but I did not hear her until she took me by the shoulder and gave me a shake. “En Anglais, please!”

  I stopped and nodded and caught my breath. “I am so sorry, Jean. I could not stop.”

  Jean very gently touched my knee, which was bleeding and covered in dirt. “Can you bend it at all?” she asked.

  I slowly brought my knee up. It was painful, but I could bend it.

  “Good. That’s a very good sign.”

  I looked back at my bicycle with its twisted handlebars.

  “Don’t worry about the bike, Etoile,” Jean said. “We can always repair it,” but I was not so sure it could be repaired.

  Jean placed her hands under my arms and lifted me up. I tried to stand and bare weight on the knee, but it gave way.

  “It’s swelling,” Jean said. “We need to get you home and get ice on it as soon as possible.”

  “I think I can walk,” I said, but as I tried to take a step, the knee gave out.

  Jean looked around and scratched her head. “We need to get you back home.”

  “But how, Jean?”

  “I’ll push you on my bike,” she said.

  “But the hill,” I said. “You cannot push me all the way back up the hill?”

  Jean looked at the steep hill.

  “I see your point.” She glanced up and down and said, “Etoile, have you ever had a piggy-back ride?”

  Jean hid our bikes in the trees and kneeled all the way down on one knee while I climbed aboard her shoulders. Jean was very careful not to touch my right knee as she very slowly stood up. I could not believe how high up I was.

  “Are you okay up there?” she asked.

  “I am taller than you, Jean.”

  “How’s the pain?”

  I was too busy looking at everything from so high up to think about it.

  “It is okay.”

  “Then we’re off.”

  If Jean was bothered at all carrying my weight, she did not say so, though I could see drops of sweat forming at the back of her neck as we went up the hill. Once we reached the crest, Jean quickened her pace.

  “How are you doing?” she called.

  “I am fine, Jean. How are you?”

  Jean laughed and patted my foot. “You gave me quite a scare, you know.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Etoile. As long as you’re alright, it’s okay, though I doubt Giselle will think so.”

  Giselle was crouched down weeding a patch of iris when she glanced over and saw us coming up the road. At first, she smiled and waved, then she must have spotted my knee, because she suddenly threw down her trowel and came running towards us at full speed.

  “Oh mon Dieu! What happened?”

  “She slipped a little on the hill.”

  “The hill!” Giselle said looking up at me. “What in heaven’s name were you doing on the hill?”

  “I was with Jean,” I answered.

  Jean carried me all the way into the house and up into my bed.

  “Call Eppy,” Giselle said. “See if she can come over right away.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, Giselle,” Jean began. “It’s just bruised.”

  “Call Eppy, I said!” Giselle demanded.

  “But Giselle…”

  Giselle spun around. “Fine, if you will not call her, then I will,” she said as she stormed out of the room. Jean looked at me with raised eyebrows.

  “Are we in trouble?” I asked.

  “Not you, me.”

  “But you did not do anything wrong, Jean.”

  ***

  Eppy arrived an hour later.

  “Well, well, where’s the little Evil Kneivel?” she asked as she came in carrying a wide black bag. “You didn’t hurt the hill, did you?” she asked as she set the bag down beside me and opened it up.

  Giselle and Jean stood behind her. Jean went to touch Giselle’s arm, but Giselle pulled away.

  “I do not think so, Eppy.”

  “Good,” Eppy laughed. She very carefully lifted my knee and rotated it around.

  “Do
es that hurt?” she asked.

  “No, just on top where it is scraped.”

  “How about that?” she asked bending it towards my chest.

  “No.”

  She took out a bandage and dabbed at the surface. “You have a little gravel in there,” she said. “I’m going to pull it out with these tweezers so it doesn’t get infected.”

  “Oh, Eppy,” Giselle said coming forward, “won’t it just work its way out on its own? Is that absolutely necessary?”

  Eppy threw back her head and laughed. “Oh no! Here we go again, Etoile. You had better take Giselle’s hand and squeeze it very tightly.”

  Giselle sat on the edge of the bed and I took her hand. She looked very pale. Jean came down and sat on the other edge and squeezed my other hand. A few times, it stung quite a bit as Eppy pulled several pieces of gravel and dirt out and I was glad to be holding their hands, but I thought Giselle was going to be sick at one point. She shut her eyes and shook her head.

  “Hang in there, Giselle,” Eppy said. “Etoile is being very brave and we’re almost done.”

  Finally, Eppy laid a towel beneath my knee and poured a rinse over it. That stung more than anything and I could not help but squeeze their hands very tightly while I squirmed, though I tried to squeeze harder on Jean than Giselle.

  “Sorry, Tootsie,” Eppy said. “That’s the worst part. We’re almost done. I’ll just wrap it up now and it will have to be changed each day for a few days. She’ll be fine. Nothing is broken, just bruised and scraped and some swelling which will go down after a few days.”

  Giselle wiped her hand across the back of her neck.

  “Are you okay?” Jean asked touching her arm.

  “Excuse me a minute,” she said as she went to the bathroom.

  “Poor Giselle,” Eppy said. “She wouldn’t make a very good nurse, now would she?” she asked smiling.

  “But she makes a good mother,” I said.

  ***

  That night, Giselle brought me dinner in bed on a tray with a small vase of flowers and a bowl of creamy potato soup with sausage, bacon, kale and onions in it. Then she brought me an extra-large bowl of chocolate chip ice cream for dessert.