The ache in her back didnt stop her as she moved toward the door.
MarieAntoinette wiped her damp hands, winced from the pain, and headed for the entrance. Someone knocked timidlyalready the third time. She was busy cleaning a window and hadnt yet stepped out into the hallway. Behind the door stood a very cute, pale young girl with tired eyes.
MarieAntoinette, I heard you might rent a room?
Ah, those neighbours! Always sending someone my way! I never rent a room, never have.
But I was told you have three rooms.
And so? Why should I be forced to rent? Im used to living alone.
Well, excuse me. I was told youre religious, so I thought
The girl, trying to hide tears welling up, turned and began descending the stairs slowly, her shoulders shaking.
Darling, come back! I havent refused you yet! Young people today are so fragile, they cry over nothing. Come inside and well talk. Whats your name? Can we be on a firstname basis?
Manon.
Manon? Did the sea 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 offense. Come, lets have tea and chat. Hungry?
No, I bought a small roll.
A small roll, you say! Ah, youth, never thinking of themselves, and by thirty youve got stomach ulcers. Sit down, theres hot pea soup and a bit of tea to warm up. I have plenty of jam. My husband died five years ago, but I still stock for two out of habit. Well eat, then youll help me finish cleaning the window.
MarieAntoinette, may I do something else? My heads spinning, Im afraid Ill fall out the windowIm pregnant.
Well, thats my luck! Youve let yourself go?
Why jump to that? Im married. Julien, from the same orphanage as me. He was called up to the army, recently got leave. When the landlady learned I was expecting, she fired me, gave me a week to find another place. We lived nearby, but you seecircumstances
Circumstances What am I to do with you? Well move my bed into Pauls room, then you take my room. I wont take any money from you, dont even think about itthat would anger me. Go fetch your belongings.
I dont have far to go. All our things 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 serious train accident, so she stayed home, crocheting lace doilies, collars, childrens slippers and selling them at the nearby market. Her wares were popular for their delicate, seafoam lightness. Money never lacked; part of it came from selling vegetables and fruit from their garden. Saturdays they worked together in the garden; Sundays MarieAntoinette attended church while Manon stayed home answering letters from her beloved Julien, rarely going to mass because her back and head ached.
One Saturday, while they were at the cottage finishing the harvest and preparing the soil for winter, Manon grew tired quickly and MarieAntoinette sent her to the little 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, Mama! Mama! Come quickly!
Her heart pounding, ignoring her sore legs and back, MarieAntoinette bolted to the cottage. Manon clutched her belly, crying out, Mama, it hurts! Its too early, too early! Im supposed to deliver in midJanuary. Pray for me, you know how! MarieAntoinette wept, praying nonstop.
They fetched a stretcher from the reception, left the neighbor to drive the ancient Renault at top speed to the maternity ward. Manon kept moaning, Mama, Im in pain! Its too soon! Pray!
All night MarieAntoinette prayed to the Holy Virgin for the babys safety. The next morning she called the maternity.
The girl is doing fine. She kept calling for you and Julien, cried, then settled and fell asleep. The doctor says theres no longer a 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 to speak of Julien.
Hes not just another found child. Hes an orphan too. We grew up together in the orphanage, friends since school, then lovers. Hes caring, more than love, I think. He writes often. Want to see his picture? Here, the second from the right, smiling
Pretty boy MarieAntoinette didnt want to tire Manon. Shed needed new glasses for ages, and the soldiers photo was tiny; she could only see outlines, not the second, third, or fifth figure. Manon, why did you call me mama in the garden?
Oh, I forgot, out of fear. Its an old orphanage habiteveryone, from the director to the plumber, is called mom or dad. Ive almost outgrown it, but when Im stressed I slip back. Sorry.
I understand MarieAntoinette sighed sadly.
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 once had a son, but he died before his first birthday. After the accident I could no longer have children. My husband was like a child to me; I adored him, knew only how to love him. He was, for me, what your Julien is to youthe only person in the world. When I buried him I removed all pictures. Though Im faithful and know hes with God, seeing his photo and crying was too hard. I hid them. He needs my prayers, not my tears. Could you ask Julien for a larger picture so we can frame it? I need a frame somewhere.
On Christmas Eve they prepared for the holidays, decorating, speaking of the baby Jesus and waiting for the first star. Manon kept getting up, sitting down, rubbing her lower back.
Youre not well, dear. You arent listening. Why are you fidgeting like a child?
Aunt Marie, call an ambulance. Im about to give birth.
My dear, it isnt that soon, is it?
Im sure Im wrong. Call quickly, I cant wait.
Half an hour later the ambulance was already at the hospital. On Christmas Day, Manon delivered a little girl. That same day MarieAntoinette sent a telegram to the young father announcing the good news.
January was busy. The baby brought joy and new worries. With Juliens consent, Manon named the infant Marie. MarieAntoinette wept with emotion. The little Marie filled their days with happiness and mishapsinsomnia, thrush, tantrumspleasant troubles that made MarieAntoinettes many pains feel lighter.
One bright winter day MarieAntoinette went shopping. Returning, she found Manon at the door with a strollerthe new mother had taken the baby for a walk.
Enjoy the walk, okay, Aunt Marie?
Yes, enjoy it, Ill start preparing lunch.
Inside, MarieAntoinette glanced at the table and saw her husbands photograph in a frame. She smiled, You finally found it. You chose a picture from his youth. Young people dont like looking at the old.
The soup simmered nicely as Manon returned with little Marie, a young neighbour helping with the stroller. The two women gently placed the baby, whose cute nose was peacefully sleeping. They slipped quietly into the large room.
Manon, MarieAntoinette said with a smile, how did you find Sachas photos?
I dont get why you say that.
This? MarieAntoinette pointed.
You asked me to have Julien photographed larger. He went to a studio; I found the frame on the bookshelf.
MarieAntoinette took the picture with trembling hands. Only then did she realize it wasnt her husband. The young sergeant grinned mischievously at the photographer. The woman sat on the couch, pale, eyes vacant, staring into the distance. When she turned to ManMan, she was silently crying, a camphorscented compress in her hand.
Mom, look at me! Look into my eyes! Whats happening, Mom? 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, its an old photo. Who is it, Mom?
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.
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 disoriented, Manon didnt know what to think. She handed over the framed photo. MarieAntoinette covered it with kisses, weeping, My Michel, my treasure, my child!
Julien, Manon whispered.
Maybe its Julien, but hes my son, Manonmy son! Look at that fathers photoits the same face!
The young woman still hesitated.
Manon, what about the birthmark? Is there a starshaped mark above his right elbow? When I identified the baby after the accident, I recognized him because the 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. Mom, my dear mother, its there!
The two women embraced, crying, oblivious to the tiny cry of Marie in the next room, longing for her mothers breast.
Despite the pain in her back, she pushes on toward the door, determined to open it.
