43- Wakes up

s1: Marion wakes us up. She runs her wrist over the quilt, telling some story about missing lollipops. Lucie touches my eyelashes and says, "Your eyes are glued shut."

We dress under the sheets because it's too cold in the room. The squeaky bed makes them laugh.

My father-in-law has lit a fire in the kitchen. I see him at the back of the garden, looking for firewood in the shed.

It's the first time I'm alone with him.

I have never felt comfortable around him. Too distant. Too quiet. And then everything Adrien has told me about him, the difficulty of growing up under his gaze, his sternness, his anger, the agony of school.

With Suzanne, it's the same. I've never seen them affectionate with each other. "Pierre isn't very expressive, but I know how he feels about me," she confided one day when we were talking about love while peeling beans.

I nodded, but I didn't understand. I didn't understand this man who held back and repressed his impulses. To show nothing for fear of feeling vulnerable is something I've never been able to understand. In my family, touching and kissing is like breathing.

I remember a heated evening in this kitchen... My sister-in-law Christine was ranting about her children's teachers, calling them incompetent and narrow-minded. Then the conversation turned to education in general, and then to theirs in particular. And the tone changed. Insidiously. The kitchen turned into a courtroom. Adrien and his sister became prosecutors, and their father was in the defendant's seat. What a violent situation... If only the bomb had exploded, but no. They swallowed their bitterness again and avoided a major disaster by just throwing a few killer jabs.

As always.

How could it have been possible anyway? My father-in-law refused to engage. He listened to his children's biting comments without ever giving a response:

"Your criticisms go in one ear and out the other," he always concluded with a smile before leaving.

That time, however, the argument was more bitter.

I still remember his tense face, his hands gripping the jug of water as if he wanted to break it before our eyes.

I imagined all the words he would never say and tried to understand. What did he exactly understand? What did he think about when he was alone? And

what was he like in private?

As a last resort, Christine turned to me:

"—And you, Chloé, what do you think about all this?

I was tired, I wanted that evening to be over. I was tired of their family feuds.

"—I... —I added thoughtfully—, I think Pierre doesn't really live with us, I mean, not truly, he's a kind of Martian lost in the Dippel family...

The others shrugged and turned their backs on me. But not him.

He let go of the jug, and his face relaxed into a smile. It was the first time I saw him smile like that. The last time too, maybe. I think some kind of complicity was born between us that night... Something very fragile. I had tried to defend my strange gray-haired Martian as best as I could, the one who is now coming to the kitchen door pushing a wheelbarrow full of firewood.

—"Are you okay? Are you cold?"

—"No, no, I'm fine, thank you."

—"And the girls?"

—"They're watching cartoons."

—"Are there cartoons at this hour?"

—"During the school holidays, there are cartoons every morning."

—"Ah... perfect. Did you find the coffee?"

—"Yes, yes, thank you."

—"And you, Chloé? Speaking of holidays, shouldn't you...?"

—"Call my company?"

—"Yes, well, I don't know, I'm just saying."

—"Yes, yes, I'll do it... I started crying again.

My father-in-law lowered his eyes. He took off his gloves.

—I'm sorry, I'm getting involved where I shouldn't.

—No, no, it's not that, it's just... I feel lost... I... You're right.

I'm going to call my boss.

—Who's your boss?

—A friend, well, I think so, I'm going to see...

I tied my hair with an old hair tie from Lucie that I found in my pocket.

—Just tell her that you're taking a few days to take care of your grumpy old father-in-law... —he suggested.

—Yes... I'm going to call her grumpy and incapable. It sounds more serious.

He smiled and blew on his coffee to cool it down.

Laure wasn't in the office. I muttered a few things to her secretary, who had another call on the other line.

I also called my home. I dialed the voicemail code. Unimportant messages.

But what was I expecting?

And once again, the tears came. My father-in-law came in and quickly left.

I told myself, "Come on, you have to cry and let it out. Exhaust the tears, wring out that sad body, and then turn the page. Think about something else. Put one foot in front of the other and start over."

They've told me a thousand times, "But think about something else. Life goes on. Think about your daughters. You don't have the right to give up. Make an effort."

Yes, I know, I know it very well, but understand me: I can't do it. For starters, what does it mean to live? What does it mean?

But what can I offer my daughters? A crippled mom? A topsy-turvy world? Okay, fine, I accept getting up in the morning, getting dressed, feeding myself,

dressing them, feeding them, enduring until night, and tucking them in with a kiss. I can do it. Everyone can. But nothing more.

For God's sake. No more.

—"Mom!"

—"Yes," I replied, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

—"Mom!"

—"I'm here, I'm here..."

Lucie was in front of me, wearing her coat over her nightgown. She was twirling her Barbie by its hair.

—Do you know what Grandpa said?

—No, what?

—He said we're going to eat at McDonald's.

—I don't believe you," I replied.

—Well, it's true! He told us.

—When?

—Earlier.

—But I thought Grandpa hated McDonald's...

—No, he doesn't hate it. He said we're going shopping, and then we'll all go

to McDonald's! Me, you, Marion, and him!

She took my hand as we went up the stairs.

—You know, I don't have much clothes here. We forgot everything in Paris...

—That's true," I acknowledged, "we forgot everything.

—So, do you know what Grandpa said?

—No.

—He told Marion and me that he would buy us clothes when we go shopping. And we can choose them ourselves...

—Ah, really?

I changed Marion's diaper, tickling her belly.

Meanwhile, Lucie sat on the edge of the bed, slowly approaching where she wanted to get.

—And he said it's okay...

—What's okay?

—He said it's okay to get everything I asked for... Horror.

—And what did you ask for?

—Barbie clothes.

—For your Barbie?

—For my Barbie and for me. The same ones for both of us!

—Are you talking about those horrible glowing T-shirts?!

—Yes, and also everything that goes with them: pink jeans, pink sneakers that say Barbie on them, socks with bows... Do you know which ones I mean?... The ones with a bow on the back...

She pointed to her ankle.

I put Marion back on the floor.

—You'll look beautiful," I said, "you'll look beautiful! Lucie pouted.

—Anyway, you think all the nice things are ugly... I laughed and kissed her adorable pout.

She put on the dress and daydreamed.

—I'm going to look pretty, right?

—You're already beautiful, my love, you're already very, very beautiful.

—Yes, but like this, much more...

—Do you think it's possible? She thought about it.

—Yes, I think so...

—Come on, turn around.

What a great invention, daughters, I thought as I