The pain in her back didnt stop her as she moved toward the door.
MarieAntoinette wiped her damp hands, groaned from the ache, and headed for the entrance. A shy knock soundedalready the third time. She was busy cleaning a window and hadnt yet stepped into the hallway Behind the door stood a very cute, pale girl with tired eyes.
MarieAntoinette, I heard you might rent a room?
Oh, those neighbors! Always sending someone my way! I never rent a room, never have.
But I was told you have three rooms.
And? Why should I be forced to rent? Im used to living alone.
Sorry. 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 nowadays are so fragile, they cry over nothing. Come inside, well talk. Whats your name? Can we use first names?
Manon.
Manon? Did the sea call 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. Come, have some tea and lets chat. Hungry?
No, I bought a small roll.
A small roll, you say! Ah, youththinking of nothing but themselves, and at thirty you get stomach ulcers. Sit down, theres still hot pea soup and well warm some tea. 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 the window.
MarieAntoinette, may I do something else? My heads spinning, Im scared Ill fall out the windowIm pregnant.
Well, thats my luck! Youre letting yourself go?
Why assume that? Im married. Julien, from the same orphanage as me. He was drafted, just got home on leave. When the landlady learned I was expecting, she fired me, gave me a week to find a new place. We lived nearby, but you seecircumstances
Circumstances What am I to do with you? Well move my bed into Pauls room, then youll 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 week is over, and Ive already visited several houses this morning with my stuff.
Thus they became a duo. Manon kept studying to become a lightweight clothing designer. MarieAntoinette had been disabled for years after a serious train accident, staying at home to knit lace doilies, collars, childrens shoes and sell them at the nearby market. Her wares, as delicate as sea foam, sold well. Money never lacked; part came from selling garden fruits and vegetables. Saturdays they worked the garden together; Sundays MarieAntoinette went to church while Manon stayed home, replying to letters from her dear Julien. She rarely attended mass, complaining of back and head pains.
One Saturday, while tending the chalet after the harvest, they prepared the soil for winter. Manon tired quickly, and MarieAntoinette sent her to the little cabin to rest and listen to the old 45rpm records they had bought with her husband. That day, after raking, the expectant mother lay down to relax. MarieAntoinette tossed dry branches into the fire, lost in thought. Suddenly she heard Manon scream, Mom! Mom! Quick, come! Forgetting her aching limbs, MarieAntoinette ran to the cabin. Manon clutched her belly, crying out, Mom, it hurts! Its too early, I should deliver in midJanuary. Pray for me, you know how! MarieAntoinette wept, praying nonstop.
They placed Manon on a stretcher from the reception while the neighbor left a tearful MarieAntoinette at home. All night she prayed to the Blessed Virgin for the babys safety. The next morning she called the maternity ward.
The girl is fine. She kept calling for you and Julien, cried, then settled and slept. The doctor says theres no longer a risk of miscarriage, but shell stay with us for a few weeks. Her hemoglobin is low; make sure she eats and rests.
When Manon was discharged, they talked until midnight, Manon constantly mentioning 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 needed new glasses, and the soldier photo was tiny; she could only make out outlines. Manon, why did you call me mom in the garden?
Oh, I forgot, out of fear. Its an orphanage habitevery adult is a dad or mom, from director to plumber. I almost broke the habit, but when Im stressed, everyone becomes a mother to me. Sorry.
I understand MarieAntoinette sighed sadly.
Aunt Marie, tell me about yourself. Why are there no pictures 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 my child; I loved him above all, just as your Julien is to you. When I buried him I removed every photo. Though Im faithful and know hes with God, seeing his picture 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 they prepared for the holidays, decorating, talking about the baby Jesus and waiting for the first star. Manon kept getting up, sitting down, rubbing her lower back.
Youre not well, dear. You dont listen. Why are you fidgeting like a child?
Aunt Marie, call an ambulance. Im going into labour.
My dear, isnt it still a while?
I must be mistaken. Call fast, I cant wait.
Half an hour later the ambulance was already at the hospital, and 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 new worries. With Juliens consent, Manon named the child Marie. MarieAntoinette was moved to tears. Little Marie filled their days with happy troublesinsomnia, thrush, whimsbut they were pleasant concerns, and MarieAntoinette felt her many pains lessen.
A particularly mild winter day, MarieAntoinette went shopping. Returning, she found Manon at the door with the pram; the young mother had taken the baby for a walk.
Enjoy the stroll, okay, Aunt Marie?
Yes, Ill start preparing 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 simmered as Manon came back with little Marie, a young neighbor helping with the pram. They gently set the baby down; her tiny nose rested peacefully. They slipped out quietly into the main room.
Manon, MarieAntoinette said, smiling, how did you find Sachas photos?
I dont get it, why are you saying that?
This? MarieAntoinette pointed.
You asked me to have Julien photographed larger. 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 grinned mischievously at the photographer. The woman sat on the couch, pale and distant, staring ahead. When she turned to Manman, the girl was silently crying, a camphorscented compress in her hand.
Mom, look at me! Look in 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. At the top, a man smiled Julien?!
My God! Who is that? Is it Julien? No, its an old photo. Who is that, 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.
Lord, what a terrible mistake! My little Michel, they showed me a body and I identified him. 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 photo.
Completely lost, 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, Manonmy son! Look at this picture of his fatherthe 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 saw the birthmark. Why are you silent? Is it there?
Its there. It looks like a star. Mom, my tender mom, its there!
The two women embraced, weeping, forgetting the small cry of Marie in the neighboring room, still longing for her mothers breast.
The Pain in Her Back Doesn’t Halt Her as She Moves to Open the Door.
