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. A shy knock sounded it was already the third time. She was busy cleaning a window and hadnt yet stepped into the hall. Behind the door stood a very pretty, pale girl with tired eyes.
MarieAntoinette, I heard you might rent a room? the girl asked.
Oh, those neighbors! Always sending someone my way! I never rent a room, Ive never done that.
But they told me you have three rooms.
And so? Why must I rent? 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 stairs slowly, her shoulders trembling.
Sweetheart, come back! I havent refused you yet! Young people today are so delicate, they cry over nothing. Come inside, well talk. Whats your name? Can we be on a firstname basis?
Manon, she replied.
Manon? Did the sea call to you, little one?
I have no father. Im an orphan. I have no mother either. Kind people found me in a building lobby and took me to the police when I was not even a month old.
Dont take offense. Come, have some tea and speak. Are you hungry?
No, I bought a little roll.
A little roll, you say! Ah, youth, you think of nothing but yourself, and at thirty youll have stomach ulcers. Sit down, theres freshly made pea soup and some tea to warm up. I have plenty of jam. My husband died five years ago, yet I still keep provisions for two out of habit. Well eat, then you can help finish the window.
MarieAntoinette, may I do something else? My head spins, Im scared of falling out the windowIm pregnant.
Well, thats my luck! Did you let yourself go?
Why jump to that? Im married. Julien, from the same orphanage as me. He was called up to the army, just returned on 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. Fine, you take my room. I wont charge you a centdont 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 bottom of the building. The weeks passed and Ive already toured several houses this morning with my things.
Thus they became a pair. Manon continued her studies as a lightweightclothing designer. MarieAntoinette had been disabled for years after a serious train accident, staying home to knit lace doilies, collars, childrens slippers, and sell them at the nearby market. Her wares sold well for their delicate, seafoam lightness. Money never lacked; part of it came from selling garden vegetables and fruit. Saturdays were spent gardening together; Sundays, MarieAntoinette went to church while Manon stayed home answering Juliens letters, rarely attending mass because her back and head ached.
One Saturday, while tending the cottage after the harvest, they prepared the soil for winter. Manon grew tired quickly, and MarieAntoinette sent her back to the small cottage to rest and listen to the old 45rpm records theyd once bought with her husband. After raking, the expectant mother lay down to relax. MarieAntoinette tossed dry branches onto the fire, lost in thought. Suddenly she heard Manon scream, Mother! Mother! Quick, come! Forgetting her own pain, MarieAntoinette sprinted to the cottage. Manon clutched her belly, crying out. MarieAntoinette urged the neighbor to help, and in the fastest a battered Renault could go, they sped to the maternity ward. Manon kept moaning, Mother, it hurts! Its too early, too early! I shouldnt give birth until midJanuary. Pray for me, Mother, you can! MarieAntoinette wept and prayed nonstop.
Manon was placed on a stretcher from the reception while the neighbor left MarieAntoinette sobbing at home. She prayed to the Blessed Virgin all night for the babys safety. 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 a miscarriage risk, 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 constantly mentioning Julien.
He isnt just another found child. Hes an orphan. We grew up together in the orphanage, friends from school, then lovers. Hes caring, more than love, I think. He writes a lot. Want to see his picture? Here, the second from the right, smiling
Handsome boy MarieAntoinette tried not to tire Manon. Shed needed new glasses for ages, and the soldiers photo was tinyshe could only make out outlines, not the second, third, or fifth figure. Manon, why did you call me mom in the garden?
Oh, I forgot, out of fear. Its an old orphanage habit. There, every adultdirector, plumberwas a dad or mom. I almost outgrew it, but when stressed I slip back. Sorry.
I get it MarieAntoinette sighed, disappointed.
Aunt Marie, tell me about yourself. Why are there no pictures of your husband or children in the flat? You have no kids, I guess?
No, no children. I once had a son, but he died before his first birthday. After the accident I couldnt have more. My husband was like my child; I adored him, loved only him. He was to me what your Julien is to you, the only person in the world. When I buried him I removed all photos. Though Im faithful and know hes with God, seeing a picture and crying was too hard. I hid them. He needs my prayers, not my tears. You could ask Julien for a larger photo to frame; I need a frame somewhere.
On Christmas Eve, MarieAntoinette and Manon readied the house 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 going into labor.
My dear, isnt that supposed to be later?
I must be wrong. Call quickly, I cant wait.
Half an hour later the ambulance was already at the hospital. On December25, Manon gave birth to a little girl. That same day MarieAntoinette sent a telegram to the young father with the good news.
January was busy. The baby brought joy and new worries. With Juliens consent, Manon named the child Marie. MarieAntoinette wept with happiness. Little Marie filled their days with sleepless nights, thrush, whimshappy troubles. MarieAntoinette felt her many pains ease a bit.
One particularly mild winter day, MarieAntoinette took advantage of the sunshine to shop. Returning home, 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 lunch.
Inside, MarieAntoinette 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 like looking at old ones.
The soup was bubbling nicely when Manon came back with little Marie, a young neighbor helping with the stroller. The two women gently placed the baby, whose cute nose was deep in sleep. They slipped quietly into the large room.
Manon, MarieAntoinette said, smiling, how did you locate Sachas photos?
I dont understand, why do you say that?
This? MarieAntoinette pointed at the picture.
That? 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 was grinning mischievously at the photographer. She sat on the couch, pale and distant, staring into space. Turning to Manon, she saw her silently crying, a camphorscented compress in hand.
Mom, look at me! Look into my eyes! Whats happening, Mom? 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, its an old photo. Who is this, 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 it. The shirt matched Michels, but 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 picture.
Confused, Manon handed over the framed photo. MarieAntoinette covered it with kisses, crying, My Michel, my treasure, my child!
Julien, Manon whispered.
May it be Julien, but he is my son, Manonmy son! Look at this picture of his fatherthe same face!
Manon still hesitated.
Manon, and 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 the mark there?
It is. It looks like a star. Mom, my sweet mother, its there!
The two women embraced, weeping, oblivious to the tiny cry of Marie in the next room, demanding her mothers breast.
The Pain in Her Back Won’t Stop Her as She Makes Her Way to Open the Door.
