“From then on, he behaved as if I didn’t exist. He remained polite, good morning, good night, thank you, see you later, but our exchanges were limited to those four niceties. We set off for the beach together in the morning, him in the back seat, us two in front. He still went out late, scattered his things around the house. Girls came to find him during the night, or on his beach towel in the afternoon; sometimes, he went off to screw one behind a rock; it was an endless parade of boobs. And furtive giggling wherever we went. It cracked Luc up. Philippe was so handsome, with his angelic face, blond curls, and tanned skin. He had a man’s body, neat and muscular; on the beach, all the girls ogled him, the women, too, even the other men envied him. It gave him so much confidence, all those eyes turned to him. Sometimes, Luc would whisper in my ear, ‘My sister must have cheated on Father Toussaint, it’s not possible that those two horrors could have produced such a beautiful kid.’ It made me laugh so much. Luc always made me laugh. I really had a lovely life with him. I was spoiled with love. We were the best friends in the world, I couldn’t have survived being apart. He was a friend, a father, a brother. Not much action in our bed anymore, but I made up for that elsewhere, now and then.
“I know what you’re thinking: When did Philippe finally get her?”
A lengthy silence ensues before Françoise continues her monologue. She removes an imaginary stain from her jeans with the back of her hand. Time has stopped. We’re alone, face to face. It’s as if Philippe had changed his scent. As if Françoise was introducing a stranger into my kitchen.
“On the evening of his twentieth birthday, Luc and I organized a party for Philippe at the villa. His young friends came. There was music, alcohol, and a buffet set up beside the small swimming pool. It was warm, we all danced together, I don’t know what came over me, but I started flirting with one of Philippe’s friends, a certain Roland, a young dimwit Philippe hung out with. We went off to make out. We finally rejoined the others for the birthday cake and presents. When we reappeared, Philippe stared daggers at me. I thought he was going to let me have it. He blew out his twenty candles, eyes full of rage. Meanwhile, Luc had his present, festooned with red ribbon, rolled out to his nephew: a gray Honda CB100, and a check for a thousand francs in an envelope, attached to the full-face helmet. There were hugs, champagne glasses raised aloft, cries of joy and amazement. I could see that Philippe was pretending to be relaxed, smiling at everyone, showing off as usual, but his jaw remained clenched. He was seriously annoyed. When the music started up again, and we were all dancing, Roland was all over me again, so Philippe grabbed him by the shoulder, said something in his ear, to which Roland replied, ‘Are you serious, man?’ And the punches started flying. Luc, who had retired to bed, got up when he heard the racket, and threw Roland out the door, with several kicks up the backside. When it came to his nephew, Luc reacted like his sister: nothing was his fault. Luc asked Philippe what had gone on, Philippe, already pretty tipsy, replied, ‘Roland’s hunting on my territory . . . my territory is my territory!!!’
“The party just carried on as if nothing had happened. That night, I didn’t sleep. Philippe undressed one of his girlfriends and stuck her on the ledge of our bedroom window. I could make out their silhouettes writhing in all directions. I heard the girl groaning and Philippe telling her all sorts of salacious and smutty things, which were very clearly aimed at me. He spoke loud enough for me to hear, but not to wake up Luc. He knew his uncle took sleeping pills at night. He also knew that I was there, close to them, eyes wide open, head on pillow, and could hear everything. He was getting his revenge. In the days that followed, we barely glimpsed him. He went off to ride his motorbike, from morning to night. Even during the day, he no longer joined us on the beach. His towel stayed dry and unoccupied. Sometimes, I’d doze off, and I’d dream that he was standing beside me, and then lying down, fully stretched out, on my back. I would wake up suffocating.
“About a fortnight after his birthday, he made an appearance on the beach. I’d gone for a swim, far from the shore. I saw him approaching Luc, just as a distant figure. His blondness and his bearing. He embraced him warmly, and sat beside him. Luc ended up pointing me out. Philippe spotted me and got undressed. He dived in the water to join me. He came toward me, swimming the crawl. I couldn’t escape. I was trapped, cornered. As he was nearing me, I started to panic, I couldn’t swim anymore, I was treading water. I don’t know why, but I convinced myself that he was coming to drown me, to harm me. I panicked so much that I started to sob. I started to cry out. But from where I was, no one heard me. I’d passed the lifebelts a while back. In a few minutes, he reached
