Lili is crying, p.12
Lili Is Crying, page 12
Just because. For the sake of it. For no good reason. They just “are.”
It’s in their nature to be “against” their best friend’s happiness. A happiness that risked growing greater than their own.
For without stopping to consider this absurdity, it pleases them to see her suffering.
Suffering excites them. After gossiping about Lili, they’re far more active in their work. Life is more interesting when someone else is suffering. A suffering starved enough to gobble up a whole life (Lili’s life).
And the little they know of her suffering feeds their sadism, secret and perverse.
—That poooooor Lili.
—My poooooor Lili, purrs Élise.
A bit disdainfully, a bit condescendingly, a touch superior, a touch self-satisfied and with the taste of a lover’s kiss in her mouth.
* * *
—Ah! cries Marthe, but, then again, it’s not over yet.
Then again.
Why shouldn’t Lili be happy?
I do hope it ends well, don’t you worry, Lili, everything will work out, cries Marthe.
—She pulled up all the carnations that were growing in the wooden crate, spits Élise.
And ripped the flower heads from their stems.
So the shepherd will see them, get it?
It’s the kind of dramatic gesture you make when your heart is broken.
She read about it in The Prostitute Princess.
But those weren’t carnations, barks Élise.
Doesn’t matter, sings Marthe, the gesture is what counts.
The headless stems.
The trampled petals.
—After all, cries Marthe, why shouldn’t she be happy?
And why is it so important to you that she not be?
—Me? shouts Élise. I never said I didn’t want her to be happy, on the contrary, I love Lili dearly. We’ll all go to the wedding.
—Women like you, shouts Marthe, you walk about all virtuously, clutching at your shopping bags, pursing your lips around your sharp, bitter tongues.
—Naturally, shouts Élise, naturally. Virtuous, can’t say you know much about that!
—I’ll take my lovers over your pinched mouths! trumpets Marthe, over your small pleasureless bodies.
—You said it, screams Élise, pleasure—that’s all you ever think about, all those stories have gone to your head.
—Women like me, says Marthe quietly, know what life is about.
A different man in our different beds every night.
We dreamed of caresses, but we got the opposite. It hurt our hearts, but we’re the better for it. We made love, and we’re the more intelligent for it.
—And now she’s saying she thinks she’s intelligent, shouts Élise, that truly takes the cake.
She rushes out.
—Why, you’re jealous! cries Marthe, chasing after her. You wanted the shepherd for yourself.
—You’re off your rocker, replies Élise, completely off your rocker,
only, Élise mutters,
only, Élise stutters, sputters.
I love Lili dearly and I don’t want her to be unhappy.
—No, says Élise, her voice like butter, I wouldn’t want that.
But then again, there are so many reasons to put a stop to this happiness
that will go wrong
that will turn out badly
that will fade anyway
that will end
I’ll find them, yes I’ll find them
for certain
for sure
Yes, I’ll find them, utters Élise,
flutters Élise.
—It stands to reason, cries Élise, that you’re unhappy with your life
it was always your dream to be a kept woman.
—Like all women, my dear, fusses Marthe, would you love your Maurice quite so much if he weren’t paying for your dresses, your houses, your bathrooms?
—I’ll come back when you’re in a better mood, shouts Élise.
Marthe watches her go, her hands on her hips, and says her under her breath:
Stuck-up little madam, thinks she’s so much better than everyone else, her heart’s like chewing gum.
Quarrels.
Women’s quarrels. And in the hotel bar and dining room (train-station-buffet style), by the stove, the ashes are unswept.
Marthe, a tear on her cheek. She’s angry.
In the doorway, the beaded wooden curtain is still making little clicking sounds, agitating after Élise.
—Drink, Lili, drink,
Lili’s husband is crooning.
You can’t come home in the state you’re in, but I’ll be counting on you tomorrow, Lili. Around ten o’clock.
Drink up.
Then he leaves, not sure whether to close the door behind him, pointing with a last gesture at the cup of linden blossom tea he’s been urging her to drink.
Killings (continued)
Scraps of day and scraps of night.
Color set off against color.
Patchworking.
If the sounds of footsteps running could be heard on the shadowy paths.
Stones rolling under the soles of espadrilles.
Branches snapping here and there.
It’s because:
Lili
or Élise
or the shepherd
or Lili’s husband
was up to something, here and there, on the shadowy paths.
If heavy male footsteps were heard
stepping from stone to stone
the lighter female tread
from grassy patch to grassy patch
the creak of parting bushes
It’s because:
the shepherd
or Élise
or Marthe
or Lili
or Lili’s husband
was up to something, here and there, at the upright hour, in the midday heat.
around about the boardinghouse.
here and there.
In the shade (how cool it is, at last a bit of shade) of the climbing, twisting, rolling paths all around the boardinghouse.
Here and there.
As the clock strikes, footsteps to the right or to the left, backward or forward.
Moving away, turning back, approaching, withdrawing.
A branch moves.
I see him.
What’s he up to?
Is that her?
Watching, waiting.
Spying. Holding our breath.
Leaning. Waiting.
Wait.
It’s taking so long.
What are they saying?
I can only hear the murmur of low voices.
Every now and then a word reaches me.
Lili’s husband is at the boardinghouse.
The mother Charlotte told me.
The shepherd is on the hunt.
He’s going to kill Lili’s husband
who’s come to bring his wife back from her mother’s house.
Lili who had refused to go back to the inn on the main road bordered by plane trees.
Lili who’d said:
I don’t feel well, I’m going to Maman’s house. No one looks after me the way Maman does.
—No, Lili cried, I’m going back to Maman’s.
She went home to her mother’s, shouts Léa.
There’s no point in you climbing all the way up to our place, you won’t find her here.
Go back the other way.
—I sent Lili’s husband back down to the boardinghouse, shouts Léa.
I’m on my way to the boardinghouse! shouts Lili’s husband
to bring Lili home.
—I saw him, Lili sobs.
I spotted the shepherd on the mountain.
He was turning around.
He’s coming back down.
His mother told him.
He’ll kill him.
A crime is going to be committed.
For my sake, sobs Lili
(the bride is so beautiful).
—Stop him, sobs Lili.
He’s armed, he went off hunting. I saw the gun.
—If you can’t then ask Élise, sobs Lili,
—Élise, calls Marthe, one minute, please, it’s important.
(a man’s life is at stake.)
The shepherd is about to do something stupid.
The shepherd is coming down the mountain, heading for the boardinghouse.
To kill Lili’s husband who went to get Lili who went home to her mother,
shouts Marthe.
—that’s proper cinema, whistles Élise, just like at the movies.
I love it, whispers Élise. Naturally, I’ll go.
I’ll climb the paths and intercept the shepherd, chitters Élise.
If there’s a fine role to play in this story, I’ll play it, chitter chatter.
I’m not the killer.
I’m not the victim.
I’m not the cuckold.
I’m not the suffering wife.
I’m not the jealous lover.
Which is why, with a light step, her cord soles bounding up the donkey tracks, Élise goes off in search of the shepherd who wants to kill Lili’s husband who went to the boardinghouse to get Lili who went home to her mother’s (her plan is to talk him out of it).
Which is why, at the very same moment, on the steep paths all around: the sounds of espadrilled feet leaping from stone to stone, keeping time with their leaping bursting hearts.
—that’s enough,
shouts the mother Charlotte.
vicious exchange of words.
Lilihome
pots and pans
sobs Lili’s husband
making herill
don’t
you
fresh paintplane trees
—Leave, shouts the mother Charlotte,
will it all be over soon?
divorce
divorce
yes
what?
—She wants a divorce, shouts the mother Charlotte.
Do you never understand anything?
No, he doesn’t understand.
He’ll be the last one to get it. He knows nothing.
Everyone else knows, apart from him.
Open eyes
shouts the mother Charlotte.
—Don’t you knowhow to look?
don’t understand
shouts Lili’s husband.
And Lili sobs, her face in both hands.
—You want a divorce.
Why, Lili. Tell me.
Lili sobs, her face in her hands.
Why does she all of a sudden want a divorce?
Who gets divorced for the sake of their mother?
No, shouts the man, NO.
We’ll soon see who’s in charge.
I don’t want to lose you, Lili.
You’re my wife.
I love you.
It takes two people to get married.
It takes two people to get divorced.
I’m your husband, Lili.
You’re mine.
Lili sobs, her face in her hands.
Why, Lili, will you tell me that?
You can’t do this to me?
Lili,
begs Lili’s husband.
You’re my one true love.
You’re the great love of my life.
Did you not know?
—Now he’s talking about true love, sobs Lili, her face in both her hands.
I’ll kill myself, cries Lili’s husband.
If you leave me, when I get back to the inn, the house will be silent, lifeless, it’ll reek of death. I have no one to talk to there.
—He’s going to kill himself, sobs Lili, her face in both her hands.
—But why, Lili?
He still can’t understand.
The idea hasn’t even occurred to him.
There’s only ever one reason, shouts the mother Charlotte.
He ignores her as he calls out:
—Lili, I’ll give you until this evening. Think it over, Lili.
—She’s already thought it over, shouts the mother Charlotte, and that’s enough now, leave, this whole scene has gone on long enough. She has her reasons for wanting a divorce.
It’s because you make her unhappy.
It’s because.
In the bushes, the shepherd makes a rustling sound. He’s shifting position.
—They truly believed I was planning to kill a man, says the shepherd, what a joke. I wanted to pretend. That’s all.
They thought me capable of committing murder, but I’m only good for eavesdropping.
They truly believed I was about to kill that man, that poor man.
Threatening it, that’s one thing. Love inspired me to threaten him, what more do you want?
—Leave, shouts the mother Charlotte.
And that’s why everyone left.
The same way they came.
Scrambling soundlessly down the steep, stony tracks.
Pushing foliage back into place.
Straightening branches.
And loose stones rolling ahead of them down the mountain, displaced by their scurrying steps.
It’s why everyone went home.
Marthe (who, after some deliberation, had also decided to come along)
Élise,
The shepherd,
Lili’s husband.
Nothing happened.
No one died.
And Lili sobbing, her face in both her hands, as her mother paces up and down, silent and frowning.
Their paths cross at the bottom of the mountain.
Élise’s and the shepherd’s.
—First she’ll have to get a divorce, cries the shepherd,
and then we’ll get married.
That house you can see up there in the distance is mine and that’s where we’ll live
Good, good, breathes Élise, now calm down and go home.
That’s your mother approaching on the main road. Tell me if I’m seeing straight. She’s out of her mind with worry.
Marthe’s and Lili’s husbands.
—She wants a divorce, cries Lili’s husband, but why?
No reason. She has no cause. It’s her mother.
She’s bewitched by her mother.
But wh?
But wh?
cries Lili’s husband.
Then all of a sudden, at the foot of the slope, he comes to a halt. He turns to look up at Marthe, who is coming down the path behind him.
Wh?
cries Lili’s husband.
The truth dawns on him.
The mother Charlotte’s words had slowly done their work.
There’s only ever one reason, she’d yelped.
Then Lili’s husband shouts:
Who?
Marthe, who? I want to know
who?
How should I know, puffs Marthe, and stop squealing like that, you sound like a piglet at the slaughter.
—Why didn’t you tell me? shouts Lili’s husband.
—It’s not a thing people say, puffs Marthe,
and
please, stop shouting, I’m not deaf.
The truth glimmers again, he murmurs, stammering:
The sh.The shepherd.
The shepherd.
The sh.
Marthe says nothing.
Lili’s husband bows his head.
They’ll separate.
—So that’s what’s been going on, he says (he’s no longer shouting),
that’s why she’s been staying at Léa’s
Since when? demands Lili’s husband
since when?
Marthe says nothing, she’s staring at the ground, at her dusty espadrilles.
—Why didn’t you tell me?
—You know why, it’s not the kind of thing people just say, mutters Marthe,
She turns away to see if she can spot the village rising in the other direction.
Then she sees Élise, who seems to be waiting for her on the bank.
—Adieu, says Marthe, Élise is waiting for me.
She rushes off to join Élise. She’s keen to get away from this unhappy man. Let’s leave him to his defeat—too true, too real, too shameful, too hard to bear. The kind of defeat that nothing can repair, nothing can soften.
Let’s cut this disagreeable moment short.
—Adieu, sings Marthe.
Here she is, already by Élise’s side. Lili’s husband stands very still, watching them bend their heads together, swap their thoughts.
Their heads part, they link arms, then walk briskly away.
Their overlapping shadows fading into the distance.
She asked for a divorce.
She is now back home at her mother’s.
She hasn’t given up on the shepherd
I love him.
He couldn’t stay on by himself at the inn on the road bordered by plane trees.
He packed his bags.
He left, turned back to lock the door.
With a drawing pin, he put up a sign saying
“House for sale.”
He set off down the main road in the direction of Bagnols.
He might have taken the bus but, no, he set off alone down the road,
his bags on his back.
The lonely house among the plane trees.
Looking spruce.
Rustling with a bright wind
with blossoming flowers
with climbing leaves
with shuttered windows.
The house of fifty smiles
Of one hundred and fifty smiles
Of two hundred and fifty smiles.
Happiness for rent.
Unwanted.
A detached house, a green lawn.
“for sale”
He left with hands stuffed into his pockets, his fists clenched with hatred.
For:
he’s the type of person who keeps his head down
keeps his mouth shut
sets off alone
his pockets bulging with fist.
They’ve broken my heart.
They’ve broken my life.
And I wouldn’t break anyone’s heart.
I would never break anyone’s life.
For I’ve not had the chance.
The opportunity has never presented itself
(it’s not that I wouldn’t want to, it’s that I’ve not been given the opportunity).
Which is why he’s walking to Bagnols.
To work through his rage.
The kind of rage that gnashes teeth,
that bulges pockets.
—What if I were to take my revenge, shouts Lili’s husband.
The words hang in the air, for he hasn’t got it in him to avenge himself.
