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By Root 452 0

I hold on to my obsession, I remain indifferent to the tumultuous buzzing of cars and to the bustle inside the hotel. Soon I will be alone again. Won’t my past come to the rescue? Where are my old unhealthy habits? Where are the objects with which I fooled myself and that I was careless enough to destroy? My hands are empty, emptier than before. I am alone with my fear, alone with my suffering that stands there ready to spring and finish me off. Would I have the courage to kill Félicia? Ah! These long sleepless nights when even the air you breathe resounds with a life of its own, when each hour falls on the heart like a tolling bell! How these nights have furrowed my face and aged me!

Félicia is definitely better. She doesn’t need me. Jean Luze watches over her like a nurse by her bedside day and night. The red roses he gave her bloom on her table. She is beautiful in her blue silk shirt. Who tied that ribbon round her hair?

“Claire,” she says in a soft distant voice, “I’d like to hold my child.”

I hand her son to her.

A debilitating defeat. I no longer have the strength to delude myself. I know that for him I am an able and devoted sister-in-law who runs his household and whom he rewards once in a while by confiding in me or with a modest gift. He has never thought of me as a woman. This fact tortures me. I would perform heroic feats if it got his attention. Wouldn’t it be heroic to throw myself at him and confess my love? …

We are about to go home. The suitcases are packed and I am waiting for the Luzes by the hotel entrance with Jean-Claude in my arms. The days to come will be agony! I will see them kissing, caressing each other, living together in their room. They will make me a witness to their love, they will share their plans with me, convinced they are making me happy when I am in torment. How will I bear this without falling apart?

Jean Luze, I was telling myself, do you have any idea what I am capable of? Do you know what kind of a monster this starving being can become when its hunger is so sorely tempted but left unquenched? You have been most reckless with me. You have given me a son and you are now taking him back after shutting the doors of your love in advance. For you didn’t let me do or say anything. Wretch! You’re the one who’ll be my scapegoat. Do you understand? Your indifference will be a springboard for that sterile rebellion of which you yourself have spoken. That’s the easiest explanation for my distress. You will relieve my conscience of the hard truths that assail my mind. Self-discontent, that is the venom that feeds malice.

Félicia is recovering very slowly from the exhaustion of that awful trip and I myself feel rather bruised from the lurching and the weight of my sister and her son lying on top of me. Jean Luze is right. I have sacrificed too much. I am going to think about myself a little more and make a final decision about my future. My glance is more evasive than usual. I am afraid someone will see my disordered thoughts. I take care not to reveal anything. Am I going to wear this stifling mask until the end of my life?

We’re home again! It wasn’t hard to leave behind those petty memories back in my hotel room and at the hospital. Our little town has been shaken by the disappearance of Jane and her child. What’s happened to them? Nobody knows. I curse that trip to Port-au-Prince. If I had been here, things would have happened otherwise. This is the last time Calédu attacks one of my friends. What will happen to Jane and her child? Some people say they saw them passing through around midnight escorted by the armed beggars. Joël and Jean Luze whisper mysteriously to each other and seem to hide something from me. Are they working together to get rid of Calédu? Was Jane helping them? And the men who were seen going into her house, were they Joël and his friends? Three questions I am as yet unable to answer. But I am sure of one thing: the commandant only arrested Jane so that I might throw myself at his feet and beg for mercy. I would rather see Jane and her son die. I would rather