13, Rue Therese - Elena Mauli Shapiro [13]
There is an uncomfortable lag on the other side of the screen. For several seconds, the priest doesn’t speak. Louise fancies that she can hear his robe rustling as he shifts in utter bewilderment. Finally, the blessed male voice manifests again:
“Ah… well, ah… every sin is forgivable, my child, if you have faith.”
Louise has to put both hands up to her mouth to smother her imminent laughter. Her inner snickering is so loud that she does not even hear the penance that is dispensed to her. The penance is a useless thing; it is not what she comes for.
When she steps out of the dank church into the bright daylight, she takes her wedding ring off her right hand and puts it back in its proper place.
This—this false confession—this is one of Louise’s favorite hobbies.
TODAY IS FRIDAY, THE second day of November. Though most shops are closed because everyone is taking the long weekend for the All Saints’ holiday, Henri is not home but at work. This is not so bad, because Garance is over at Louise’s. They do not sit in the living room and sip tea, however, because this afternoon is too exciting for that. A new family is moving into the building. The massive truck filled with all their worldly possessions blocks the narrow little street below entirely. Garance and Louise are at the window together, leaning against the ledge and looking down at this truck, at all the happenings surrounding it.
The movers heave furniture down the ramp into the street with great difficulty. They negotiate carrying it up the curb and into the front door of the building. Every step is a heavy challenge and must be performed slowly, with discomfort. Louise would amuse herself by picturing the labor in the straining musculature of the movers, except she is too interested in the new family. She keeps catching unsatisfactorily short glances of them as they dash back and forth in a flutter of excitement and anxiety, hoping that nothing gets broken as they are installed into their new home.
There are several children, all boys with smooth blond hair, as far as Louise can see. There seem to be dozens of them, but she has not seen more than two together at any given moment. Surely, there must be more than two?
“They must have paid extra to get those guys out here on a holiday,” Garance observes of the movers, who are red-faced with their efforts.
“They must have. It’s a good idea for the family, though, to have a couple of days to settle in before going back to school and work.”
They are quiet again as they watch. Louise looks at the woman of the house, who is explaining something about the exquisite delicacy and monetary worth of her glass-topped reading lamps to one of the movers, who looks glazed and bored. The woman is mildly plump but pretty, with the same straight blond hair as her boys and a round face with delicate features. She wears loose billowy clothes that obscure the shape of her body, but Louise swears that she sees a slight swelling in the drapery sheathing her abdomen. Louise thinks the woman must be pregnant—yes, the woman is pregnant and this pains Louise, though she has never met this person before. This pains her because she is so jealous of the woman and of her fine sons, her little boys who run circles around her, shouting with glee and excitement—this woman, her fine sons, and yet more incipient life ripening in her body!
And she, Louise—an empty vessel. Truly, for no good reason, the sight of this woman she has never met before pains her.
“Louise.” Garance elbows her teacher in the side. “Louise, that man is so handsome, he shouldn’t be allowed!”
“Allowed to what?” Louise asks without averting her gaze from the woman, though she knows what Garance means. Always, she is willfully obtuse with the girl, in order to squeeze the words out of her.
“Allowed to walk around!” the girl squeals.
Louise turns her head to look at this marvel of a man that Garance is gawking at, and at this moment the same man looks up straight into her face, his attention grabbed by Garance’s lusty