Part Sex
The wait
Jacques' arrival gives a new meaning to the
nights spent with Guillaume; the immediate reaction of panic and fear has
subdued to the excitement of the concealment. The childe has woken at the
delight of hide-and-seek, to the delights of acting. Joy and excitement
enjoy sudden upsurge at the arrival of four dozens of red roses, note
attached simply says: "Thanks for taking care of your devilish G. de
C."
Hi, Marcel, what a surprise! You're lucky I'm
still up... but... you look upset, what happened? His face still tense
with rage and anger already familiar to me, but unknown, lumps on my sofa,
under heavy weight of a large problem. Sit next to him, surrounding his
shoulder with my arm. Gently caress his black hair. He stops me with his
frail hand in irritation. No, please, I'm not buying. I know. Do you want
to talk about it? It's Pierre. We've just had a fight. But you always have
fights. What did you do this time? He turns, irate eyes dropped in the
thin pallor of his face. What did I do? Me? Why does it have to be me?
Can't you trust me? I do trust you, Marcel, I know you too well, I didn't
mean to say it was your fault, just that sometimes you can be... He jumps
on his feet. You're just like him, you're the same, you're both
insensitive! Marcel, my man, pull yourself together. I hate to see you
upset like this. He keeps pacing up and down the room letting the steam
fume out of his raging face. He releases a few words of anger, but
anonymously addressed. I let him cool off a bit. I can't stand being
offended and humiliated. I gave him so much, I gave him all my life, I
gave him all my love and what does he do? He throws it away, damned! He
loves you too, you know, if he did something, I'm sure he didn't meant it.
He doesn't love me, aargh! I hate him!! Don't be unfair, it's true, he's
not as extroverted about his feelings as you are, but that doesn't mean...
You're wrong, dead wrong.
Marcel never looks at me in the eyes, during
this altercation, he keeps them down.) I mean, sure, he doesn't let out
any feelings for me, he doesn't have any! How can you say that? What did
he do? He stops in the middle of the room. Feverish with anger and
remorse. I saw him last night, I saw him enter a hotel with a kid, must
have been 8 or 10, no more. They were holding hands, ha! Pierre, with a
child? No, that can't be! I assure you, I saw him (his eyes now inflamed
with red anger and excitement), I saw the two of them, and then they came
out after three hours, three hours, can you believe that? You followed
him, you spied on him? I didn't mean to, I just wanted to ask him to come
with me to a concert, I had free tickets for two! I only wanted to see
him, like usual. So I drove to his place, and as I was parking the car, I
saw him leaving the building. So I went after him, I tried to call him, to
stop him, but he was already too far to hear me. I followed him with my
car until he stopped. I stopped the car and came out, then I saw him
picking up this child, then he left with him. I don't know what went
wrong, I went crazy, I felt like a ball of anger pressing against the back
of my neck. I followed them and I saw them going inside this hotel.
I know, I shouldn't have done it, but... Stop
reproaching yourself, Marcel. I'm sure there's an explanation for all
this. In fact, I know there is. There is only one explanation, that he
doesn't love me. Oh please! Get up and go toward him, we hug. Oh, Mad, I'm
so tired of all this. Everything is pointless, life makes no sense. It's
all right, mon petit loup, it's all right. I hate it, why can't they see
how deeply they hurt me? Nobody can see that, because you're more
sensitive than they are, because you always care and try not to hurt them,
but they don't do it out of malice; I don't think Andre would... did you
talk to him? If only I could show him...
Hold him in my arms, feel all the emotional-quake
shaking his very depth, remember a situation where I should have made
Andre feel this way, should probably point out double standards usually
unfair. Why don't you talk to him? I did. And...? I broke up with him. I
was even ready to apologize for following him, for having suspicions
toward him, that I was there in front of him ready for him to wipe them
out, to embrace me, for him to give me his version of the facts, I was
ready to make peace, but he... But what? He said he didn't need any
explanations, there was no explanation, I should have trusted him period
and not put him through a third-degree interrogation. Well, he's sort of
right, you know? I just wanted him to prove I was wrong in suspecting him,
I wanted him to tell me it was all false. He may have done just that. Oh
no, he refused to explain anything, thus proving he was guilty; oh you
should have seen him, he's not like us, he's not like you and me, he was
so cold, so indifferent, he didn't even bother to make up an excuse. You
didn't want him to?! No matter what he would have told you, you still
would not have believed him, you wouldn't have trusted him any more, and
then the whole thing would have dragged itself until you were both angry
and frustrated at each other. I don't like to have to explain myself all
the time, it's offensive and humiliating. I was wrong, you're just like
him, look at yourself, your life isn't exactly... Marcel, stop it!
Marcel is on the verge of tears. I don't want to
see him any more. We had a pact, we were supposed to tell each other
everything, even if it were trivial. He has betrayed my trust, it's all
over now. Did you tell him everything? Yes, yes. Did you tell him about
us, that time? What? See, you didn't! But that is between you and me,
there was nothing wrong with it, you're a woman! What's the difference? He
may say the same for what happened the other night, too. Marcel falls into
drooping silence, inside he's fighting between the unfairness of his
behavior with Andre and his hurt feelings. Come Marcel, let's go out,
let's go get something to drink. You know, I can't live without him.
Part Seven
Punishment
Drunk again, little pussy? No, Jacques, I'm not
drunk, I'm fine. Just a little tipsy. I was only celebrating your return.
You could at least wait for me to celebrate. You know I don't like it when
you drink. As a matter of fact I'm quite drunk, but making huge efforts to
sound and look normal, which obviously fail. I just wanted to be ready to
welcome him and behave the way he expects me to. But I overdid it, I know
he doesn't like me drunk. Or maybe I did it on purpose, just to spite him,
or maybe.... We are going out, tonight. My my, all these nice roses for
me, dear? Oh... yes, of course, do you like them? I want to take you to a
nice little restaurant on the isle du bois. Veuleauvent? Ah, you know it
already, don't you? No, I... I heard it's not very good. Why, it's the
most famous restaurant in Paris. Why don't we try some other place? Well,
I'm sorry pussy, you'll have to try this one instead. Please, Jacques....
No, we are going there, and that's that. Besides I like it very much, and
you will too, I'm telling you. Yes, as you wish. There you go, you'll see,
it won't be so bad. I'm afraid, all my playfulness has left me, I'm no
longer in that mood for hide-and-seek. I know this is silly, but somehow I
have the feeling that he knows about Guillaume. My paranoia will
eventually lead me to unmask myself, and I'll have to face his wrath. But
I have to defend my little secret as long as I can. Maybe I'll manage to
keep my cool. Guillaume, why aren't you here instead? If only Guillaume
had taken me with him... no, people like Guillaume will never get caught
living with someone like me. Now I'm alone.
Soon we'll leave for Italy (oh, how many times I
had desired this trip... and now, my heart is no longer there) and I won't
see him again, maybe ever again. I throw myself into Jacques' arms, I
reverse on him all the passion I'm feeling inside, but for somebody else.
I hug him desperately, as if trying to be pardoned, I cuddle myself
against his body. My sincerity initially puzzles him, but is actually
interpreted differently. This won't make me change my mind, pussy. It's
not that at all, Jacques, we'll go anywhere you want, I'll always follow
wherever you go, Jacques. Of course you will, you're mine, you will always
do as I tell you. I missed you, I missed you so much.... Well, isn't that
special?! He kisses me with domineering violence, he intrudes into my most
intimate parts, starts making love to me. I'm not in the mood, I would
rather spend the evening surrounded by people (going out for dinner
appears as a better prospect than being made love to), protected by the
indifferent crowds. But dare I refuse myself? As a contrast, I try my best
to be cooperative. I like you this way, pussy, submissive and obedient.
But, touches and caresses only make Guillaume's presence even more present
in my body; I fail to please him, and he gets up in anger. Bitch! I'm
sorry, Jacques. He goes to the window, and after a minute of threatening
silence, he speaks. We're leaving for Italy tomorrow. So soon? Fierce his
dark mean face turns toward me. Why, do you have any plans? No, I have no
plans, but the girls... Then, we're leaving tomorrow, you'll write to your
girl-friends and apologize. We're leaving tomorrow, it's set. He closes
this statement with a narrow smile, enjoying his cruelty. I haven't packed
yet, it'll take me some time.... You won't need to, I'll buy you new
clothes over there, clothes that more suit your quality. He comes toward
me menacingly. For a moment I fear for my life. And for tonight, let's see
what you should wear. He opens my wardrobe, goes through my dresses, pulls
some out, throws them around. Ah, there! This one looks just like you.
Wear it tonight. Yes, Jacques. Feel humiliated, depressed and totally
powerless. Let's go.
Pretty restaurant has a terrace overlooking the
little lake, surrounded by trees and green bushery, although in the open,
it feels like a dark, intimate alcove. Women tonight seem to be in a dark
vein. Most dresses are dark colors, most black, camouflaging with the
darkness of the new mood light. Bluish table lights reflect on grim long
faces, ghosts of doomed souls, evening zombies, transvestites as living
creatures. Oh Jacques, it's so sad here, it's so cold, let's go somewhere
else. No, I like it here. One quick harsh glance at me, I'm submissive
again. "Que será á será!" His sour crabby mood frightens
me, or should reassure me something else on his mind, maybe not my
behavior. Jacques, something wrong? No, my little pussy, absolutely
nothing. But maybe there is something wrong with you, why don't you tell
me what's been bugging you. Why? Nothing. You've been acting funny since I
came back. No, nothing in particular, I just had a depressing week. I
missed you more than I thought. That's not what he wanted me to say, but I
can't, I can't. Green his eyes enter my soul commanding orders,
scrutinizing recondite reasons. No alibi. Feel uneasy. I identify source
of uneasiness, Roland sitting at a somewhat distant table across the
terrace. Hope he does not see me. Hope Jacques does not see me seeing him
seeing me... sine fine. Charles Aznavour's lady better off than me, she
had the upper-hand. Not me. Very uncomfortable. Garçon, oysters for two,
and a bottle of Dom Perignon 1975. Yes, that includes the
"lady." That's all. You may go. This should put you in a better
mood for tonight. I must say, I didn't appreciate your reception, not a
bit. You don't seem to understand that when I want something, I get it, so
isn't it better for you if you're a bit more cooperative? I'm sorry, I
tried, but I told you, it has been a heavy week. And you still don't want
to tell me what happened, hein? Very well, I'll find out anyway. The
later, the worse it'll be for you.
I want to celebrate to my return, pussy. Let's
drink. Oh, but I forgot, you have already celebrated... right? And a toast
to our contract. It has worked out tremendously, don't you think? All
things considered, you're not a bad brawd, you're fairly good in bed and
you're faithful, right pussy? Naturally, I am faithful to you, Jacques.
You know I love you. (Oh god, to say it that way, you might save your
breath, he doesn't even expect you to say it... it's almost as if you
confessed your guilt) He breaks into a sonorous evil laughter. Well, if I
didn't know you, I would say you have been unfaithful! Jacques! I know, I
know... but look who's here! Roland, my friend! Jacques gets up and moves
toward the little romantic table. What are you doing here all alone? Come
join us. Roland smiles cordial back at Jacques, the two friends come
forward to the table. My eyes and Roland's meet, he understands. So, what
a coincidence the three of us here. Have you ben to any good parties
recently? Roland spontaneously and elegantly mentions a couple. Somebody
told me Patou had a great party this week. Typical, I'm away and all sorts
of fun and wild things happen. Well, good... it was actually a bore. Bore?
That is quite strange indeed, I heard your brother was there too, and you
know he hardly moves from his little hole. (hole?) It's true, but he
wanted to please Elisabeth; he can't say no to her. Ah, right,
Elisabeth... You two are usually a guarantee of good quality party, when
you show up together.
Roland seems to startle a bit, but recomposes his
face immediately and laughs. It's a myth; we've seen worse parties,
indeed. Oh but it's so rare to see Guillaume at any party, these days. I
think he's becoming a real bore. I should introduce him to you, Madeleine,
I'm sure you'd like him. I don't know any aristocrats, I wouldn't know how
to deal with them. Oh, you're so right, my dear! What do they say? Oh,
yes. Did you know, Roland, that in the States the word
"aristocrat" is illegal? I wouldn't know about them.... I'm
telling you, they passed a law many years ago, and if they catch you
saying it, paf! they fine you for $1,000. Ha ha ha! I'm sorry, I didn't
realize you two have not met yet, I thought you met at Patou's party, she
told me you left so early... naughty naughty! Instinctively I say it. Who
me? Why, you told me you didn't go, why should I be talking about you! Oh,
she's really a funny one, isn't she? Well, this is Roland de Courvoisier,
and this is Madeleine Berenguer, ma petite femme. Enchantee, madame! The
pleasure is mine, monsieur. Oh, you two are so... how do they say in the
States? civilized, yes, you're so tremendously civilized, he he he!! I
manage to prevent blushing, thinking of poor children dying of starvation
in Africa, or of cholera in Bangladesh. However, Roland grows visibly
pale. So, I suppose, since you didn't go to Patou's party, you never met
Guillaume de Courvoisier either, hein, ma petite? I told you, I don't know
any aristocrat. Tut tut, it's not true, you know Roland now, don't forget,
he might resent it. Well, I'll reserve to myself the personal pleasure to
introduce you to him.
I can tell now Roland is getting a bit edgy and
his pallor competes with the absent-otherwise-white moon; for one who's
not used to lying, this has ben a heavy night. Jacques is acting more
boorish than ever, and he's getting on my nerves. I'd tel him to shut up,
but for paranoia. I'm afraid I must go now. But Roland, must you go to bed
so early? Patient Roland remains firm in his cowardly idea. I'm waiting
for a lady any minute now. Oh, another one of your ladies about to have
her heart torn to pieces, you playboy! No, this one is a nice lady, a real
lady. Roland, I warn you, don't offend my femme here, she's a real lady
too. (People always love to talk about me in the third person when I'm
around!) Very well, Roland cuts short, good night folks. Goodnight to you,
Roland my old boy, I won't hold you any longer. Goodnight, Madame, it was
nice to meet you. Goodnight, Monsieur Roland. What was all that about?
My my, aren't you horny tonight! Jacques, I only
want to please you. I'm really sorry about earlier, I was not myself. You
were drunk, pussy! (And yet, wasn't it under the effect of alcohol that I
allowed him to take possession of me?) I'm going to repay you now,
Jacques. Malicious grin on his lips, grinning coldly knocks me down with a
blow. In more ways than one, my dear. I'm lying on the floor half©naked.
I'm as shocked as hurt. What came over you? He is standing above me,
sneering. I told you, pussy, what would happen if you were unfaithful. But
I have been faithful to you, Jacques! You're a liar! You stupid bitch! He
picks me up from the floor and hits me again and again in the face, on my
arms, on my breasts. I cannot even defend myself. Guillaume... He's
furious, but his rage is cold and sharp. He throws me on the bed and tears
away, rips my underskirt. This time, I'll give you the full punishment and
maybe next time you'll remember who's the boss. Jacques, no please, it's
not true! Please, don't do that, not again, please!! No! What a liar! I
know everything about you and Guillaume, do you think I'm stupid? I'm
paralyzed, I don't understand anything he says. How could he know...? I'm
lying in the bed watching him getting ready, powerless, resigned to my
destiny. Patou, must have been Patou. Oh, she'll pay dearly for this! She
will pay, after all this is over. He handcuffs my wrists and ankles to the
bed and gags me. One look at him, merging with background portrait of
dear, dear poet, died for us all, for to save us all from daily routine,
from daily suffering in prisons we ourselves erect around us, oh what a
pity his eyes so furious, his eyes so meek. One look at me, he's ready to
begin.
Part Eight
Olives, cherries and champagne
At this point one may ask Madeleine: What will
happen to Guillaume? Will Jacques and Guillaume have a face-to-face
confrontation? "No, Jacques is not jealous and could care
less about what Guillaume and I did. It's all an excuse; all he cares is
the power he can exercise over me. But Guillaume was never interested in
me except for what a demiªmondaine like me could offer to a man like him.
But he's too cool to fall in love with a demi-mondaine... or isn't he?
Does he know, does he realize in what hands I'm stuck? Probably not, but
it makes no difference to me. No one can free me, I alone could free
myself if only I had the strength or the power to do it. But I don't.
Guillaume and I were done the morning he left my apartment. Besides, I
cannot really complain. What I've got is really the best I could ever hope
for. Jacques and I were meant for each other; sex is indeed a very small
price for what he gave me; and in any case I'm not in a position to pick
and choose."
At this point, Jacques and Madeleine go to Monza,
where he will participate in the twelfth Grand-Prix of the year. As we
have already seen, he has a mortal accident. However, what still remains
to be seen, is whether she had a part in the murder of Jacques, or whether
it was Guillaume to do it all by himself. On her plane back to Paris, she
reflects:
"Nice gorgeous lively dresses gain me
respect and admiration from ignorant outsiders who judge me spartan and
courageous for managing to hide my sorrow so cleverly and for taking it so
well. Little they know (and I'm not going to correct them in their
delusions) how relieved I am of his death, and perhaps that I am not so
innocent either, but he deserved what came to him on the track, if we
hadn't accelerated nature, Justice should have taken care of him. Finally
the good Lord has taken pity over me and decided to rid me of that
fartface, well, not exactly true. I did have a good time, notwithstanding
all, I even loved him at one time. But it's all over now, I really don't
feel anything, except for this elated renewed ectasis of life, this
irresistible joy of living. At last my own master. Will I survive alone?
Print flowers white and yellow suit, with wide
flowery straw hat I feel like a Botticelli's printemps, like a new virgin
sprung up from the sea, to life. A virgin again. Back home. Lightweight
slide into shower, waltz around apartment feeling good about myself, light
and cheery, light and beautiful, light and young. I just realized I hadn't
felt young in a long time, like taking for granted that my life was over,
that once taken that path, there was going to be no changes and I would
have been Jacques' femme for ever and ever. Life is different now, smiling
at me again, anew.... Vanity strikes again as a symptom of
"eros" (i.e., love for life, lust for life, Van Gogh, Plato, Sid
Vicious, etc.) bursting need for good dresses, new dresses, dresses bought
in Italy by Jacques for me, never worn, now the time, new dresses sexy
dresses make me pretty, prettier than ever, joy inside radiating outside
varnishing dresses of new forbidden light; try dresses, change dresses for
the sake of trying them all on me, to see how each one of them fits me,
how each one shows off my figure, now reborn. Attack jewelry, so far
seemed so vain, so useless, now perfidly enjoy shining on me, on my neck,
on my ears, in my hair; scarves, fluffy, soft colorful scarves á á
la Chanel, clouding my body like in the grey sky of Paris, as one famous
taylor once said of his models. Anything, any gadgets which will enhance
my beauty floats, flows, flies around, in and about my body stressing my
excitement, my foolish sensations. Have an attack of self-confidence, new,
unfelt since my early 20's, feel strong, strong and young, strong young
and winning, conquering the whole world. Young and powerful.
Doorbell rings. Waltz toward door. Hello!
Guillaume shadows room, for a second, then radiates his pure golden hair
into large, whorish room. Guillaume is into the scene now, he's now part
of my strength and power and youth and happiness. The knight. Guillaume
the warrior, the noble hero, the Musketeer who fought for me, who waged
battle with the dragon who imprisoned me, now deserves reward. Shining
bade. Open door, he appears sunshine into the apartment. Radiant glory. He
penetrates catly penetrates and I close door behind him. Lusciously kiss.
I missed you. It felt like years, I thought it'd never happen. I thought
he'd never crash. We have so much to catch up. Absolutely. Let's get
started. I'm into it. Not yet. We drag each other's body into bedroom.
Will you get rid of that portrait now? No, I
don't think so. It's so sick. It's going to stay, I like it. What's the
matter? I feel observed. It's only a painting, you silly. Yea, I know,
still.... Oh come on, baby. You'll forget about it. Kiss. Viciously wild,
strong powers entangle, virile forces driving us. Malign sensations.
Strong vibes. One quick glance to portrait. His sad big eyes brighten up
for that second, malign smile in a good-natured face acknowledging
approval, appreciation, desire, evil thoughts. Fleeting image of
Guillaume's face, enraptured, enraged in desire, dark, drunk his face now,
his eyes flashing, mysterious spirit possesses my lover, transporting me
in a magical morbid world, eyes of red flames merging with painted mild,
now wild eyes of poet died for us to be free... rash in my brain, fleeting
shot of portrait's eyes piercing inside, superimposing images alternating
flashing lover's poet's lover-poet. Everything fits, everything works out
now. I have found you at last!"
Epilogue
Very good Madeleine. Good show. The others
applaud too cheerful. Jacques hugs me tenderly. I'm happy for you, dear.
You've done it! Marcel is subtly smiling under his bushy moustaches. André
is silently smiling, good brother that he is."
(finis)
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