Paris Noir - Aurelien Masson [39]
7.
A strange sun over the city. Something warm and restful. I walk for a long time before I get to Lycée Paul-Valéry. That’s where I told Marco to meet me. The high school we went to. Especially me, because Marco didn’t go to school very often. But I tried my best. Especially in French and History. So how did I end up a mechanic?
Marco’s already there. Sitting on the hood of his BMW. We look for a nearby café. We sit outside. We order, then exchange banalities.
That’s when she appears. For the second time. Valerie is striding ahead, as if she’s late. I call her. I get up. I run after her. She finally turns around.
[She walks rapidly across the stage. He calls her. She turns around.
]HER: What are you doing here?
HIM: Nothing. I'm having a cup of coffee. You have a little time?
HER: No, sorry. Someone's expecting me.
HIM: You never called me.
HER: I know, I was really busy.
HIM: I waited. I didn't know how to reach you.
HER: Forgive me.
HIM: I have nothing to forgive you for. I'm only passing through.
HER: I promise you. As soon as I can …
Then I hear a voice. “Mommy!”
[A voice calling offstage.]
Valerie turns around. A little girl is running toward her. Maybe eight years old. Valerie glances at me. I see a painful form of despair in her face. Behind the little girl, a guy, a tall guy. He looks familiar.
HER: I've got to go.
HIM: I understand.
HER: I'll call you.
HIM: Don't bother. I understand completely.
HER: I don't think so.
[She turns around and exits.]
She leaves. Wobbly legs, exploding heart, I think I’m going to collapse on the ground. Two breaths. I go back to the bar. Marco questions me. “You know Valerie Dumont?” “What?” “The girl you followed.” “She’s a friend of my sister’s. We saw each other at the wedding. I didn’t know her name was Dumont.” “That’s her husband’s name. I told you about him already, at the warehouse. I do some jobs for him. If you want, I’ll introduce you.”
“Don’t bother. Really, don’t bother.”
8.
Flattened, hurt, smashed. Aching belly. Back from the station. My train ticket. Tomorrow I’m going back to Toulon. The phone rings. A few words of conversation. Steps. Mom through the door. “Phone for you.” “Marco?” “No, it’s a woman.”
I rush over to the phone. It’s her.
[Each at opposite sides of the stage. They talk to each other on the phone.]
HER: Antoine?
HIM: Yes!
HER: I'm sorry.
HIM: You didn't tell me you were married.
HER: I know.
HIM: Or that you had a daughter.
HER: I know. Forgive me. When we met … it was so sudden … I didn't know what to do.
HIM: And now?
HER: I still don't know. But we can see each other, if you want to.
HIM: That's not a good idea.
HER: What are you talking about?
HIM: You're married, you're a mother, all that.
HER: That's not a problem.
HIM: I'm going to go away.
HER: It's your decision.
HIM: Right. When?
HER: Now.
HIM: It's nighttime.
HER: I'll wait for you at my place. Nobody's home.
[They hang up and exit from different sides of the stage.]
I call out to Mom. “I’m going out for a little while to see a friend.” “So late?” “It’s the only way she can do it.” “Okay, son.” “I’m taking Sophie’s car.”
9.
Through the darkened city. Just one thought leads me on. Her. Speed to her. Speed. A nice apartment on boulevard Diderot. I ring. She opens