Pascal drives off like a whirlwind. The wipers shriek on the glass, pushing away a load of water that seems to gather again immediately. Jo reaches out and taps on her sister’s hip, but doesn’t dare take her hand. There’s rainwater running into her eyes and ears. She snorts like an animal, trembling with worry and cold.

Love Me Lili

Love Me Lili

“Did he leave?”

Valérie shrugs; the fat in her arms flops down, pathetic, against the embossed dress, too warm for the season despite the thunderstorm.

“I couldn’t take it any more.”

“So it was your decision?” Séverine insists.

“No, it was his, but he’s right.”

“You’re saying he’s right? Listen to yourself.”

Séverine is upset and angry on Valérie’s behalf, as if Valérie was speaking for all women when in fact it’s only about her. She’s leaning against the outside wall of the school, barely sheltering under the roof projection, one foot against a tub of flowers. It’s still thundering, exploding in the distance. She lights a cigarette – the last one before going back to work. Playtime is almost over, and she’s only taking a break because Valérie has dropped by. The teacher is bound to make an unpleasant comment when she gets back, because she’s supposed to watch the children during playtime, but shit, she’s exhausted. And with this rain on top of everything else, the kids are going to get water everywhere.

“There’s no right or wrong; in any case, I was expecting it. I think I’d even been expecting him to do it for a long time.”

“Then why didn’t you leave?”

Valérie shakes her head and hesitates. “I don’t know. After all, you know him, he’s nice.”

In fact, Séverine isn’t really listening. She’s applying every answer to her own case, wondering if she’s better than Valérie, if she’s at a standstill because life has something wonderful in store for her or if she’s painting a black picture again and her life isn’t so bad after all, compared to her friend’s.

The phone vibrates and rings in the pocket of her work smock.

“Go on, you can answer it.”

“No, it’s my mother, and I’ve no wish to speak to her.” Séverine silences the device with her thumb and draws a little satisfaction from it, confusing the machine with the caller. “You were saying?”

“I don’t know any more.”

“Are you going to find yourself a guy who can give you a kid?”

Valérie grits her teeth: Séverine rarely minces her words. Never, in fact. “You’re kidding. It’s too late now.”

“You still could. You’ve got a few more years left.”