Johanna looks at her father, moving in the patterns of the fire, as he answers and listens. She sees him close his eyes and rub the back of his neck with his large hand. He listens for a long time, mutters a thanks and shakes his head like a child. When he hangs up, his hand is trembling and he takes a breath as if he’s been holding it for a long time. He lets out a sob.

“What’s the matter?” Jo asks.

“It’s my father. He’s just died.”

Almost Attractive (Epilogue)

Almost Attractive (Epilogue)

They’re almost attractive when they leave the house to go to the party. Their mother is wearing new feather-shaped earrings and even Manuel told her she looked pretty, just like that, even though he doesn’t say much any more. Céline has dressed Jolene up like a doll and is proud of her even though the little girl is wriggling in her buggy, already eager to walk. Her little golden T-shirt rides up to the middle of her tummy, revealing the adhesive tape of her baby pants, her soft skin and her protruding belly button.

It’s Séverine who’s wheeling the kid in a huge buggy – the girls are walking ahead, as usual.

Manuel is already drunk, having attacked the pastis long before leaving. Consequently, he’s lagging behind, looking at his wife, wondering if she’ll let him touch her tonight, after the party. And if he’ll be too drunk to get a hard-on. Then he’s suddenly moved to tears by the chirping child. He approaches the buggy, and babbles nonsense to answer his granddaughter. Manuel is a boat with a hole in it and an unsteady waterline, never very far from sinking.

The girls speed up, arm in arm, putting a distance between themselves and their parents. They’ve got their sandals out again, the heat is everywhere. Céline missed her appointment with the Pôle employment agency this morning, but there’s no work for her anyway. Besides, her grandparents are relying on her for the apples.

Jo’s decided to stay on at school. At the teacher and parent evening, they said she had potential. That she should open up a little with others, that she should be more trusting. It made her laugh.

They’re feeling too hot and their sleeveless tops are damp. They can already hear the music and start singing – Freed from desire, mind and senses purified. Things that don’t change can almost be reassuring, sometimes, as comforting as an old, familiar angst.

They sing loudly, stepping into this new summer by shaking their heads to the rhythm of the song, like a denial. Céline brushes a lock of hair behind an ear; Jo stuffs her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, emphasizing her dark shoulders and small breasts.