The ache in her back didnt stop her as she moved toward the door.
MarieAntoinette wiped her damp hands, winced from the pain, and went to answer. A shy knock sounded the third time already. She was busy cleaning a window and hadnt yet stepped into the hallway Behind the door stood a very pretty, pale young girl with tired eyes.
MarieAntoinette, Ive heard you might rent a room?
Those neighbours! Always sending someone my way! I never rent a room; Ive never done that.
But I was told you have three rooms.
So what? Why should I be forced to lease? Im used to living alone.
Excuse me. I was told youre religious, so I thought
The girl, fighting back tears, turned and began to descend the steps slowly, her shoulders trembling.
Sweetheart, come back! I havent turned you down yet! Young people today cry over everything. Come inside, well talk. Whats your name? Can we be on a firstname basis?
Manon.
Manon? The sea ever call to you, little one?
I have no father. Im an orphan. No mother either. I was found in a building lobby by kind people and taken to the police. I was not even a month old.
Dont take it personally. Come, lets have tea and talk. Hungry?
No, I bought a small roll.
A small roll, you say! Ah, youth, you think of nothing but yourselves, and by thirty you already have ulcers. Sit down, theres still hot pea soup and a bit of tea to warm. I have plenty of jam. My husband died five years ago, yet I still stock for two out of habit. Well eat, then youll help me finish the window.
MarieAntoinette, may I do something else? My head spins, Im scared of falling out the windowIm pregnant.
Well then! Thats my lucky break! Have you given yourself up?
Why jump to that? Im married. Julien, from the same orphanage as me. He was called up to the army, just came back on leave. When the landlady learned I was expecting, she fired me. Gave me a week to find another place. We didnt live far, but you see circumstances.
Circumstances What am I to do with you? Well move my bed into Pauls room. Fine, you take my room. I wont take any money from youdont even think about it, it would anger me. Go fetch your things.
I dont have far to go. All our belongings are in a sack at the bottom of the building. The weeks passed and Ive already visited several houses this morning with my stuff.
Thus they became a pair Manon kept studying fashion design for light garments. MarieAntoinette had been disabled for years after a severe train accident, so she stayed home, crocheting lace doilies, collars, childrens slippers, and selling them at the nearby market. Her wares sold well because they were as delicate as sea foamlight and ethereal. Money never lacked; part of it came from selling garden vegetables and fruit. On Saturdays they worked the garden together; Sundays MarieAntoinette attended church while Manman stayed home reading and answering Juliens letters. She seldom went to mass, complaining of back and head pain.
One Saturday, while they were tending the cottage after the harvest, they prepared the soil for winter. Manon tired quickly and MarieAntoinette sent her to the little hut to rest and listen to the old 45rpm records they had bought with her husband. After raking, the expectant mother lay down to relax. MarieAntoinette tossed dry twigs into the fire, lost in thought. Suddenly she heard Manon scream, Mother! Mother! Quick, come! Forgetting her aching legs and back, MarieAntoinette rushed to the hut. Manon clutched her belly, crying out, Mother, it hurts! Its too early, too early! I must give birth in midJanuary. Pray for me, you can! Tears streamed down MarieAntoinettes face as she prayed nonstop.
A neighbor was persuaded to help, and in the fastest a battered Renault could go, they sped to the maternity ward. Manon kept moaning, Mother, Im in pain! Its too soon! Pray! The nurse placed her on a stretcher, leaving a tearful MarieAntoinette at home. All night she begged the Holy Virgin to save the baby. The next morning she called the hospital.
The girl is fine. She kept calling for you and Julien, cried, then settled and fell asleep. The doctor says theres no longer any risk of miscarriage, but shell need to stay with us a few weeks. Her hemoglobin is low; make sure she eats well and rests.
When Manon was discharged, they talked until midnight, Manon never stopping about Julien.
He isnt a found child like me. Hes an orphan. We grew up together in the orphanage, friends from school, then lovers. Hes caring, more than love, I think. He writes often. Want to see his picture? Hes the second from the right, smiling
Handsome boy MarieAntoinette didnt want to tire Manon. She had needed new glasses for ages, and the soldier photos were tinyshe could only make out outlines. Manon, why did you call me mother in the garden?
Oh, I forgot, out of fear. Its an old orphanage habitevery adult is a dad or mom, from the director to the plumber. Ive almost outgrown it, but when Im stressed I call everyone my mother. Sorry.
I understand MarieAntoinette sighed.
Aunt Marie, tell me about yourself. Why are there no photos of your husband or children in the flat? You have no children?
No, none. I had a son, but he died before his first birthday. After the accident I couldnt have more children. My husband was like a child to me; I loved him only as a child. He was, for me, what your Julien is for youthe only person in the world. When I buried him I removed every picture. Though Im faithful and know hes with God, seeing his face and crying was too hard. I hid them. He needs my prayers, not my tears. Could you ask Julien for a larger photo so we can frame it? I need a frame somewhere.
On Christmas Eve, MarieAntoinette and Manon prepared for the holidays, decorating, speaking of the baby Jesus, awaiting the first star. Manon kept rising, sitting, rubbing the lower part of her back.
Youre not well, dear. You dont listen. Why are you fidgeting like a child?
Aunt Marie, call an ambulance. Im going into labor.
My dear, isnt it still early?
I must be mistaken. Call quickly, I cant wait.
Half an hour later the ambulance arrived at the hospital. On December25, Manon gave birth to a little girl. That day MarieAntoinette sent a telegram to the young father with the happy news.
January was full. The baby brought joy and new worries. With Juliens consent, Manon named the child Marie. MarieAntoinette wept at the name. Little Marie filled their days with delight and troubleinsomnia, thrush, tantrumsbut happy troubles. MarieAntoinette felt her many pains lessen.
One bright winter day, MarieAntoinette went shopping, enjoying the sunshine. Returning home she found Manon at the door with a strollerthe new mother had taken the infant for a walk.
Enjoy the stroll, okay, Aunt Marie?
Yes, enjoy it; Ill start preparing lunch.
She entered the room, glanced at the table, and saw her husbands photo in a frame. She smiled, You finally found it. You chose a picture from his youth. Young people dont look at the old.
The soup simmered nicely when Manon came back with baby Marie, a young neighbor helping with the stroller. The two women placed the infant gently; the tiny nose rested peacefully. They slipped out quietly into the large hall.
Manon, MarieAntoinette said, smiling, how did you find the pictures of Sacha?
I dont get why you say that.
This? MarieAntoinette pointed.
Yes, you asked me to have Julien photographed larger. He went to a studio, and I found the frame on the bookshelf.
She took the photo with trembling hands, only then realizing it wasnt her husband. The young sergeant grinned mischievously at the photographer. The woman sat on the couch, pale, lost in thought, staring into the distance. When she turned to Manon, the girl was silently weeping, a camphorscented compress in hand.
Mother, look at me! Look into my eyes! Whats happening, mother? Manon sobbed.
Manon, open the cupboard; the photos are on the top shelf. Bring them all.
Manon fetched several albums and framed pictures. From the top, a man smiled Julien?!
My God! Who is that? Is it Julien? No, an old photo. Who is this, mother?
Its my husband, Alexandre. Manon, dear, where was Julien born?
I dont know. He was taken to our Paris orphanage after a train accident. They told him his parents were dead.
The Lord, what a terrible mistake! My little Michel, they showed me a body and I identified him. The shirt was the same as Michels, but the face was unrecognizable. My dear, my son Michel! Youre alive! Your wife and daughter live with me, and I knew nothing. Lord, you sent Manon to me. My daughter, give me the picture.
Completely bewildered, Manon handed over the framed photo. MarieAntoinette covered it with kisses, crying, My Michel, my treasure, my child!
Julien, Manon whispered.
Let it be Julien, but hes my son, Manonmy son! Look at this picture of his fatherits the same face!
The young woman still hesitated.
Manon, what about the birthmark? Is there a starshaped mark on his right elbow? When I identified the baby after the accident, I recognized him because his clothing matched his age. His arm was crushed, and I never found the birthmark. Why are you silent? Is it there?
Its there. It looks like a star. Mother, my dear mother, its there!
The two women embraced, crying, oblivious to the faint cry of little Marie in the next room, still yearning for her mothers breast.
The ache in her back doesn’t stop her as she strides towards the door.
