The Pain in Her Back Doesn’t Stop Her as She Heads to Open the Door.

The ache in her back didnt stop her as she went to open the door.
MarieAntoinette wiped her damp hands, winced from the pain, and moved toward the entrance. A shy knock soundedalready the third time. She was still polishing a window and hadnt yet stepped into the hallway. Behind the door stood a very pretty, pale girl with weary eyes.
MarieAntoinette, I heard you might rent a room?
Those neighbors! Always sending someone my way! I never rent rooms, never have.
But I was told you have three rooms.
And why should I be forced to rent? Im used to living alone.
Excuse me. I heard youre religious, so I thought
The girl, fighting back tears, turned and began descending the stairs, her shoulders trembling.
Sweetheart, come back! I havent refused you yet! Young people today are so fragile, crying over nothing. Come inside, lets talk. Whats your name? Can we be on firstname terms?
Manon.
Manon? Did the sea call to you, little one?
I have no father. Im an orphan, and I have no mother either. Kind people found me in a building lobby when I was less than a month old and took me to the police.
Dont take offense. Come, lets have tea and chat. Hungry?
No, I bought a small roll.
A roll! Ah, youthnever thinking of yourself, and at thirty you already have stomach ulcers. Sit down; the pea soup is still hot, and well warm some tea. I have plenty of jam. My husband died five years ago, yet I still stock for two out of habit. Well eat, then you can help finish washing the window.
MarieAntoinette, may I do something else? My heads spinning, Im scared of fallingIm pregnant.
Well, thats my lucky break! Have you been careless?
Why jump to that? Im married. Julien, from the same orphanage as me. He was called up for military service, just returned on leave. When the landlady learned I was expecting, she fired me, gave me a week to find new lodging. We lived nearby, butcircumstances
Circumstances What am I to do with you? Well move my bed into Pauls room. Fine, youll take my room. I wont take any money from youdont even think about it, it would anger me. Go collect your things.
I dont have far to go. All our belongings are in a sack at the buildings basement. A week passed and Ive already visited several houses this morning with my stuff.
Thus they became a pair. Manon continued her studies to become a designer of light garments. MarieAntoinette had been disabled for years after a serious train accident, stayed home, crocheted lace doilies, collars, childrens slippers and sold them at the nearby market. Her wares, as delicate as sea foam, sold well. Money was never scarce; part of it came from selling garden produce. On Saturdays they worked together in the garden; on Sundays MarieAntoinette attended church while Manon stayed home, reading and answering letters from her dear Julien, rarely going to mass because her back and head ached.
One Saturday, while they were tending the chalet after the harvest and preparing the soil for winter, Manon grew tired quickly. MarieAntoinette sent her to the small cottage 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 branches into the fire, lost in thought. Suddenly she heard Manon scream, Mother! Mother! Quickly, come!
Heart racing, ignoring her sore legs and back, MarieAntoinette sprinted to the cottage. Manon clutched her belly, crying out, Mother, it hurts! Its too early, too early! I shouldnt give birth until midJanuary. Pray for me, you can! MarieAntoinette wept, praying nonstop.
A neighbor was persuaded to help, and in the fastest Renault they could find, they sped to the maternity ward. Manon kept moaning, Mother, Im in pain! Its too soon! The staff placed her on a stretcher from the reception while the neighbor left a tearfilled MarieAntoinette at home. All night she begged the Holy Virgin to spare the baby. The next morning she called the maternity unit.
The baby 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 a few weeks with us. Her hemoglobin is low, so make sure she eats well and rests.
When Manon left, they talked until midnight, Manon constantly mentioning Julien.
Hes not just another found child; hes an orphan too. 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 photo? Hes the second from the right, smiling
Handsome boy MarieAntoinette didnt want to tire Manon. Shed needed new glasses for ages, and the soldier photos were tinyshe could barely make out any face, only outlines. Manon, why did you call me mother in the garden?
Oh, I forgot, out of fear. Its a habit from the orphanage; every adult theredirector, plumberwas called mom or dad. Ive almost stopped, but when Im stressed, theyre all my parents. Sorry.
I understand MarieAntoinette sighed, disappointed.
Aunt Marie, tell me about yourself. Why are there no pictures of your husband or children in the apartment? You have no children?
No, none. I once had a son, but he died before his first birthday. After the accident I couldnt have more children. My husband was like my child; I loved him above all. When I buried him I removed every photo. Even as a believer, knowing hes with God, it was too painful to see his picture and weep. 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 they prepared for the holidays, decorating, speaking of the baby Jesus, waiting for the first star. Manon kept getting up, sitting, rubbing her lower back.
Youre not well, dear. Youre not listening. Why are you fidgeting like a child?
Aunt Marie, call an ambulance. Im going into labor.
My dear, its not supposed to be that soon, is it?
I must be mistaken. Call quickly, I cant wait.
Half an hour later the ambulance was at the hospital, and on December25 Manon gave birth to a little girl. That same day MarieAntoinette sent a telegram to the young father with the happy news.
January was busy. The baby brought joy and new worries. With Juliens consent, Manon named the child Marie. MarieAntoinette was moved to tears. Little Marie filled their days with sleeplessness, thrush, capriceshappy troubles that eased MarieAntoinettes chronic pains.
One bright winter day MarieAntoinette went shopping. Returning, she found Manon at the door with a stroller, having taken the baby for a walk.
Enjoy the walk, okay, Aunt Marie?
Yes, Ill start preparing lunch.
Inside, MarieAntoinette glanced at the table and saw her husbands picture in a frame. She smiled, You finally found it. You chose one from his youth. Young people rarely stare at old faces.
The soup simmered as Manon returned with little Marie, a young neighbor helping with the stroller. They gently placed the baby, whose cute nose rested peacefully. They slipped out silently into the large room.
Manon, MarieAntoinette said, smiling, how did you locate Sachas photos?
I dont get why you ask.
This? MarieAntoinette pointed.
That? You asked me to enlarge Juliens photo. He went to a studio; I found the frame on the bookshelf.
She took the picture with trembling hands, then realized it wasnt her husband. The young sergeant in the photo winked at the photographer. She sank onto the couch, pale and distant, eyes far away. Turning to Manman, she saw her silently crying, a camphorscented compress in hand.
Mother, look at me! Look into my eyes! Whats happening, mother? Manon sobbed.
Manon, open the wardrobe; 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 gave me a body I identified by the shirtidentical to Michelsbut the face was unrecognizable. My dear 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 photo.
Lost and confused, Manon handed over the framed picture. MarieAntoinette covered it with kisses, weeping, My Michel, my treasure, my child!
Julien, Manon whispered.
Let it be Julien, but hes my son, Manon, my son! Look at this picture of his fatherits the same face!
Manon 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 the clothing matched his age, but his arm was crushed and I couldnt find the mark. 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 tiny cry of Marie in the next room, demanding her mothers breast.