by Alice Quinn
“Ha-ha! But of course! Great! So that’s all that’s left to do! Incredible! Honestly, Madame Maldonne. You’re amazing. A genius—really! Just look at me! I’m sure you can tell! I’ve totally transformed, haven’t I?”
“If you say so . . .”
I wondered what she was talking about, as I hadn’t done anything or spoken a word, but I could also sense that time was almost up in our fake therapy session and that I’d soon be able to read the message from my Linus. Wow, there I was already calling him my Linus. A man I’d still never met—and wasn’t likely to!
What happened next terrified the living daylights out of the pair of us. I freaked out first because Madame Paraffin (?) had her back to the door and so it took some time to understand what was going on.
20
A head popped around the doorframe—Laroche!
His face was haggard, his marbled skin showed traces of red, and he was pointing a big kickass revolver at our heads. This was clearly an emotional time for him. His panic-stricken eyes moved from me to the journalist and back again to me at a frantic pace.
But Madame Tangerine hadn’t seen a thing. She’d noticed my expression, but I guess she took it to be a response to her gratitude. She stood, sauntered over to me, and planted a massive smacker on my cheek.
With his wide eyes on us and his knuckles white as he gripped his gun, Laroche moved into the room. That’s when my “patient” turned around and found herself with a gun almost touching her nose.
She cried out.
The sex-swapping man was trembling as he held up the revolver. The journalist was trying to form words, but nothing came out.
Laroche stuck his weapon under my patient’s chin and looked like quite the pro.
“Madame Maldonne, there’s definitely a problem here,” she articulated slowly.
I needed to get this situation under control, but holy mother, I was frozen in fear. I had a big-time freak on. I was imagining my children without me, all alone in the world, wondering why I’d left them.
In a shaky voice, I managed to say, “Come on, don’t lose your shit. Talk to me. Don’t be afraid, Madame Margarine, this guy’s a nice guy.”
“If you say so. What about the kids? The kids I have to pick up from school?”
I eyed the clock on the wall.
“Yes, the kids will be waiting. You’re late, Madame Clementine! Get your ass into gear!”
Gun Boy reacted to this by pressing the revolver further into the journalist’s face without even looking at her.
“Where’s the witch Amar? She got her own way, didn’t she? She won! I’m going to kill myself! And I’m going to do it in front of her! That’s why I came back! Where is she? You’d better tell me!”
I managed to keep my cool, even though I already saw myself in a pool of my own blood. I remembered an old film with Marlene Dietrich or Greta Garbo in the role of Mata Hari when she’s just about to be executed and lifts an eyebrow, mockingly. I made the same move.
“Good one!” I said. “Well played. But you’ll have to wait a few days before the big event if you want Rachel Amar to witness it. She’s away on business and it’ll be a few days before she’s back. I’m sorry. You’re going to have to take a rain check.”
He stared at me nastily, so I gave it another go.
“Hello? Are you taking any of this in? Do you want me to sum things up for you?”
“You’re Madame Amar’s replacement?”
“No. Nothing like that. Do I look like a shrink to you? Can you not tell how old I am? I’m only just out of elementary school!”
“Age has absolutely nothing to do with status,” he replied. “It’s more your style that’s the problem. You know. Your makeup, the colors . . .”
“Yeah, listen to me. You’re pissing me off with your talk of how I look—like you’re a fashion king or something. You don’t exactly come across as on-trend. Just go back home, would you? Nice and quiet. I’ve already told you that Rachel Amar has gone to the US.”
“I don’t believe your story for a minute! You’re making all this ridiculous nonsense up as you go along! It’s a trap.”
“I swear to you. I’m telling nothing but the whole truth.”
He lowered his arm. He seemed defeated. I’d finally worn him down. I knew he’d never have the nerve to follow it through. Our little discussion had given Madame Limousine a chance to escape.
My telephone gave a little diiiiinnnnngg-a-riiiinnnggg to let me know I’d received a text message. I took a quick peek. It was Léo.
He was in front of the school gates waiting to pick up the girlios, but he needed my authorization. He gave me the number of the gate woman. I’m sure that wasn’t her official job title, but all the same. I dealt with it and the babas were handed over to Léo. I couldn’t have been more relieved that he was taking care of things.
After texting him where I was and telling him to bring the kids directly to Rachel Amar’s place, I called the journalist. “You needn’t bother picking up my kids now, thanks. Someone else is on it.”
While these texts and calls had been going back and forth, Laroche had regained his strength. He was agitated again, but I also detected a sense of wariness. It was something in the eyes.
“I’m not into all this messing around. Rachel Amar’s replacement will just have to do. Sit down at that desk. I’m going to lie down on this couch for a few minutes and you’re going to listen to me.”
I was beside myself.
He clearly didn’t like the laughing. “What? What did I say?”
“Nothing. She’ll take you. Don’t worry . . .” whispered Madame Borderline, who had snuck back in, smiling nervously.
I couldn’t believe my ears! I glowered at her. “Madame Margarine, please . . .”
“It’s Eudoxie Apraksine.”
“What?”
“My name is Eudoxie Apraksine.”
“Isn’t that what I said? Whatever your name is, I think you should mind your own business! Monsieur, I am not replacing Rachel Amar. It was a coincidence that you saw me in her office. Please let me explain. As I’ve already told you, I am the cleaner, the maid, the housekeeper . . . whatever you want to call it, but I’m not a therapist or a psychologist or a psychiatrist. There is a massive difference between dusting and curing brains.”
Alexandre, eyes bulging, started howling like a Dementor. “Housekeeper? Seriously? My brain most certainly does need curing if you think I believe that! I’m sick of everyone treating me like I’m nothing! Like a turd! You don’t think I saw the both of you having a session earlier? Maid! Ha-ha! You’re too young to be a maid!”
“What? You’re very judgy, aren’t you? Since when has there been a right age for cleaning up someone else’s mess? You’ve obviously never been to a cleaning agency! I’m way too young to be a shrink, but I’m more than old enough to clean shit up.”
“That’s so not the case. You could have skipped a couple of years in high school or college. This replacement could even be part of your training! Cleaner! What else have you got for me?”
He held up the gun again in front of my face. And that was it. I lost it. My fear disappeared out the window, as it often does during those moments when I maybe should be worried for my safety.
“‘What else?’ I ain’t got nothing else for you, dickhead! I’ve been telling you the truth!”
“No, it’s not the truth! She’s a liar!” shouted the journalist frantically. What a racket. She must’ve been driven by fear, enthusiasm, or her deep-held belief that I really was a shrink. Or all three?
“She’s fantastic at her job! She totally knows what she’s doing. If your head’s broken, she’ll fix it. She’s like a brain mechanic or something! Absolutely marvelous! Get on that couch and your whole world will change, I guarantee it. I’m Eudoxie Bintou Apraksine. And you are?”
“Alexandre Laroche. Pleased to meet you,” he said with a smile, holding out his left hand (not the one with the gun in it).
This Kerosene woman really needed dealing with. How was I going to get her under control? She was the reason my situation was going from bad to worse.
“You need to watch it, Madame Chlorine, because I won’t just keep repeating myself. This must be the third time at least. Don’t interfere with the setup here. I am not taking on the responsibility of dealing with a suicidal obsessive who’s spent years in Freudian therapy and still hasn’t acted on a single threat he’s made.”
“Oh, and that’s how a typical housekeeper speaks, is it? Ha-ha!” cried out Alexandre Laroche, becoming more and more manic by the minute. “Not a very good cover-up. Or is it intended to be amusing?” he added frostily. “Sit over there. And I’ll lie down here. I’ll give you one last chance to try and get me to change my mind about how worthless I am. And if you can’t do it, I’ll kill myself right here in front of you.”
“Jesus! I can’t deal with this!” I shouted.
“Come on, Madame Maldonne, say you’ll do it! Help him, please! Don’t be so selfish! You can see how much he needs you!”
“Madame Plasticine, this is a big deal. A serious situation and I’m not qualified! In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal! I can’t do it. Come on! Please!”
As we were speaking, Laroche had changed position slowly and was now able to grab the journalist and take her as his hostage.
“Enough already! You give me my therapy or I’ll kill her before I pop myself.”
“Madame Maldonne, I’d very much appreciate it if you could think very carefully before responding . . .” said the woman in a quiet, squeaky voice. “Don’t forget that I promised I’d do all your cooking for you.”
I sighed and sat down at the big desk.
“So you’ll talk with me? You’ll do this?” asked Laroche, surprised, I think, that his aggressive method had actually worked.
I nodded, but felt desperate about what was happening, about how I was going to get out of this. And now my kids were on the way. What had I been thinking?
Encouraged by his newfound success, he pushed Madame Guillotine out of the room.
“Get the fuck out of here! Leave us in peace!”
So it turned out he did use bad language, and she didn’t appreciate it in the slightest.
“Young man, in my country, men show women more respect than that. How dare you address me in such a manner.”
I wondered which of her countries she was talking about.
She turned to me. “This man needs you more than most, I would say! I’m going grocery shopping. There’s a great little organic place near here. I’m going to make some mafé for us. It’s a West African dish. Very spicy! It’ll cheer you up! The market exercise will have to be for another day, I’m afraid. You eat chicken, don’t you? I’m taking the keys! Be back soon!”
21
Things weren’t A-OK with me.
It’s one thing to give a friend a bit of advice in passing, to tell Véro or Mimi what to do with their lives, or to help out a Korean cashier in the supermarket, but from that to the bigwig sitting behind a desk with a patient on the couch? It was too much. Honest to frig. This had all gone way too far.
I really had to get a grip or this was all going to wind up one hell of a mess. And with the number of kids I was taking care of, I couldn’t allow myself to get caught up in this kind of game.
Laroche cheered. “Yeeeehaaaaw! It works! That’s wild!” He gave his gun a loud kiss. Odd or what? “These things are magic, don’t you think?”
I shrugged as the front door banged shut. The journalist must have headed out to do her all-important grocery shopping.
“OK, so are you sitting . . . um, lying comfortably?”
He certainly looked like he was all snuggly, his revolver lying across his belly.
The doorbell rang again and we both reacted with a start. What was this? A slapstick? One character leaves the stage and another character enters. I exhaled deeply through my mouth.
“We’re never going to get through this. When I think about all the work I have left to do!”
The journalist had come back. I heard Léo’s voice.
“Come in, Léo!” I hollered.
“Coming!”
Laroche shoved his weapon behind his back and blocked his ears with his fingers.
“Can you put the kids in the living room, please? You guys can all watch TV for a while, if you like. I’ll come and hang out in a bit, I’ve got somebody in here with me right now.”
“Housekeeper. Cleaner,” whispered Laroche. “Everyone always takes me for a moron, it’s ridiculous . . .”
I heard Madame Aquamarine closing the front door behind her again. I stepped over to the office door for a second and watched as the horde made its way to the living room. I needed my cuddle fix, but I didn’t dare leave the room because of the sex-swapping crazo. It just felt so weird that I hadn’t given my babas a kiss after school. I had a ton of questions for Léo too.
“Mommy! Mommy!” screamed Lisa.
She started searching for me in every room, and it wasn’t long before she found me. She jumped into my arms for a hug while Emma and Sabrina continued to explore the new pad. Léo followed Lisa into the office. He was carrying all the kiddos’ backpacks.
“Are we camping here now? Your life is pretty mental! You’re always on the move. I’ve gotta eat real quick. I have a date! I got a beach towel for Erina. You don’t have a suit for her, do you?”
I winked at him and rummaged around in my bag before pulling out a fuchsia-and-turquoise bikini with a stunning glittery Tahitian flower print. He seemed pretty pleased with the goods.
“If you check the fridge, you’ll see some leftover beans and rice. Just dump it all on a plate and reheat for a couple of minutes in the microwave. We’ll all have dinner later. But before you go swanning off to the beach, you have to get your math homework done. I know you have some, so don’t lie to me.” Intuition.
“What? But I’ll be late!”
“You won’t! You’ll do it real quick! Come on, get that butt of yours moving! Send me a quick message as soon as you get to the beach, OK?”
Laroche groaned. “Will you be finishing up any time soon? When were you thinking of starting our session?”
I threw my eyes to the heavens. Lisa whispered something in my ear. I noticed she didn’t look too great and she was whimpering.
“What’s up, sweetness?
“Frighty.”
“You’re frightened? Frightened of what, honeybun?”
“Pirate Anorak.”
“What? What’s with all the pirate talk still? Sabrina?” I shouted. “Where’s my big girl? Sabrina? Come here, would you?”
Sabrina came in, giggling. “Yeth?”
“Why are you all talking about this Anorak man all the time? Have you seen someone hanging around?”
“Oh, it’th nothing, Mommy. I haven’t theen anyone. Don’t worry!”
Lisa covered her mouth and giggled nervously. “It’s a man. He keeps bumping his head on trash cans and lampposts. He’s a pretty funny pirate, but I feel jumpy-out-of-my-skinny. He’s strange. Very bad.”
I gave Sabrina the eye. The eye usually worked. The eye said, Let’s get to the bottom of this, or there’ll be trouble.
“The’th getting all mixthed up between the thtorieth I make up and real life,” explained Sabrina.
“My Lisa! Don’t be scared of someone who bumps his head on stuff! You’re not spooked by Mr. Bean, are you? We all giggle at Mr. Bean, don’t we? He’s not scary at all!”
When she saw that I wasn’t a bit bothered about the story with the clumsy pirate, she clearly felt reassured, because she wriggled around in my arms, which meant she was ready to be put down.
I set her gently to the floor, then called out to Léo.
“OK, Léo, I’m just going to finish up with this patient and then I’ll come and take over with the tots!”
We were finally alone. Laroche and I. Let the therapy commence!
Laroche let out a massive sigh. “At long last!”
“Cool your horses.”
“What, do you run a daycare center on the side or something?”
“These are my nippers and they need taking care of, OK? Normally, I’d have finished work by now, but seeing as I can’t actually get any of my actual job done in this joint, I still have a whole load left to finish by the time I’m done with you. And by that, I mean cleaning, not shrinking!”
Alexandre Laroche seemed to be worried about all the noise and confusion, but he started to speak anyhow, spouting off some miserable tale . . .
“I don’t have a whole lot to say other than I think I’ve reached the end of my rope. That’s about it. I’m sick to death of spending a fortune on therapy that isn’t getting me anyplace. It does nothing. Nothing. Nothing. That word pretty much sums it all up perfectly. I don’t need a CV because I run my own company, but if I was to write one, do you know what I’d write?”
“Mmmm,” I mumbled, trying my best to imitate what I’d seen of Rachel Amar on the tapes.
“Nothing,” he said. “That’s what I’d write. Nothing.”
Sabrina moseyed in and sat on my knee. She studied Laroche with interest.
“What’th thith man talking about, Mommy?”
“His name is Alexandre. He says he’s unhappy. He feels like he’s nothing.”
She nodded her little head. “I thee. You can continue!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, please don’t mind my daughter,” I said. “Go ahead.”
And so he went ahead. And boy, did he go ahead.
“It’s not even as if I’m a nobody. Being a nobody is still something. Me? I’m nothing. I’m taking up someone else’s place on this earth. I don’t even know why I’ve made all this fuss. Why did I insist on having this last session? I know there’s no hope for me. I’m in way too deep. I have a total lack of desire, you see. Nothing. That’s what I am. All I ever wind up doing is stuff that doesn’t even interest me. Like the se—” He noted Sabrina. “You know, the things I do as part of a group . . . the parties. I don’t know why, but I don’t even feel anything there either. I really am at the bottom of the heap. An absolute nothing. And what happens when nothing disappears? Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? Nothing happens. Is there anybody out there who would miss nothing?”
