The ache in her back didnt stop her as she moved toward the door.
MarieAntoinette wiped her sweaty hands, winced from the pain, and headed for the entrance. A timid knock soundedalready the third time. She was busy cleaning a window and hadnt yet stepped into the hallway Behind the door stood a very pretty, pale girl with tired eyes.
MarieAntoinette, I heard you might rent a room?
Those neighbors! Always sending someone my way! I never rent a room, never have.
But I was told you have three rooms.
So what? Why should I be forced to rent? Im used to living alone.
Excuse me. I was told youre religious, so I thought
The girl, trying to hide tears welling up, turned and slowly began descending the steps, her shoulders trembling.
Honey, come back! I havent rejected you yet! Young people these days are so fragile, crying over nothing. Come inside, well 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. No mother either. I was found in a building lobby by kind people and taken to the police. I wasnt even a month old.
Dont be upset. Sit, have some tea, and lets chat. Hungry?
No, I bought a little roll.
A roll, you say! Ah, youthnever thinking of themselves, and by thirty you have 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, and I still stock 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 give yourself up?
Why jump to that? Im married. Julien, from the same orphanage as me. He was drafted, just came back 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 seethe circumstances
Circumstances What shall I 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. Get your things.
I dont have far to go. All our belongings are in a sack at the buildings ground floor. 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, staying home, knitting lace doilies, collars, childrens slippers, and selling them at the nearby market. Her wares sold well for their delicate, seafoam lightness. Money never lacked; part came from selling garden vegetables and fruit. Saturdays were spent gardening together; Sundays MarieAntoinette attended church while Manon stayed home answering Juliens letters, rarely going to mass because her back and head ached.
One Saturday, while working at the cottage after the harvest, they prepared the soil for winter. Manon tired quickly, and MarieAntoinette sent her to the small cabin to rest and listen to the old 45rpm records they once bought with her husband. That Saturday, 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! Quick, come! Ignoring her sore legs and back, MarieAntoinette ran to the cabin. Manon clutched her belly and kept wailing. MarieAntoinette persuaded a neighbor to help, and at the top speed a battered Renault could manage, they sped to the maternity ward. Manon kept moaning, Mama, it hurts! Its too early, too early! I shouldnt give birth until midJanuary. Pray for me, you can! MarieAntoinette wept, praying nonstop.
Manon was placed on a stretcher from the reception while the neighbor left a tearfilled MarieAntoinette at home. She prayed to the Holy Virgin all night for the babys safety. The next morning she called the hospital.
Everythings fine with your daughter. She kept calling for you and Julien, cried, then calmed 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 constantly mentioning Julien.
He isnt just another found child; hes an orphan too. We grew up together in the orphanagefriends 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
What a handsome boy MarieAntoinette didnt want to tire Manon. Shed needed new glasses for ages. The soldier photo was tiny; she could see only vague outlines, not the second, third, or fifth figure. Manon, why did you call me mama in the garden?
Oh, I forgot, fear Its an orphanage habiteveryones a dad or mum, from the director to the plumber. I almost dropped it, but when Im stressed, everyone becomes my mother. Sorry.
I understand MarieAntoinette sighed, disappointed.
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 couldnt have more. My husband was like my child; I adored him, knew only how to love him. He was, to me, what Julien is to youthe only person in the world. When I buried him I removed every picture. Though Im faithful, knowing hes with God, it was too painful to see a photo and weep. I hid them. He needs my prayers, not my tears. You could ask Julien for a larger picture so we can frame it. I need a frame somewhere.
On Christmas Eve, MarieAntoinette and Manon prepared for the holidays, decorating, speaking of the infant Jesus, awaiting the first star. Manon kept rising, sitting, 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.
Sweetheart, isnt it still early?
I must be mistaken. Call quickly; I cant wait.
Half an hour later the ambulance was at the hospital. On December25, Manon gave birth to a little girl. That day MarieAntoinette sent a telegram to the young father with the good news.
January was busy. The baby brought joy and worries. With Juliens permission, Manon named the child Marie. MarieAntoinette wept with emotion. Little Marie filled their days with joy and little troublesinsomnia, thrush, tantrumsbut happy ones. MarieAntoinettes many pains seemed lighter.
The day was unusually gentle for winter. MarieAntoinette took advantage of the nice weather to shop. Returning, she found Manon at the door with a strollerthe new mother had decided to take the baby for a walk.
Enjoy the stroll, okay, Aunt Marie?
Yes, Ill start preparing lunch.
Entering the room, 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 the old.
The soup simmered nicely when Manon returned with baby Marie, a young neighbor helping with the stroller. The two women gently placed the infant, whose cute nose slept peacefully. They slipped silently into the large room.
Manon, MarieAntoinette smiled, how did you locate Sachas photos?
I dont get it, why do you say that?
This? she pointed at the picture.
That? You asked me to get a larger photo of Julien. 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. She sat on the sofa, pale, gazing into the distance. When she turned to Manon, the girl was silently crying, a camphorscented compress in her hand.
Mama, look at me! Look into my eyes! Whats happening, mama? 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 that, mama?
Thats 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 beloved, 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 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 murmured.
If its Julien, hes my son, Manonmy son! Look at his fathers photoits 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 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. Mama, my dear mother, its there!
The two women embraced, crying, oblivious to the small cry of Marie in the next room, demanding her mothers breast.
The Pain in Her Back Doesn’t Stop Her as She Heads to Open the Door.
