“As it happens, I want to talk to you about Andy.”
“Yes?”
Jordan was not smiling. Her fingers played with the crumbs.
“Andy admitted to me what happened last time she went to stay with you.”
Clarissa swallowed.
“Meaning what?”
“The incident that occurred in your neighbor’s flat.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong, you know. You’re looking at me as if I’ve committed a crime!”
“Adriana is fourteen years old! The idea of it! Breaking into an apartment at two in the morning! Do you realize? And that Bardi nearly taking her away? What on earth were you thinking?”
Clarissa suddenly felt very hot. Her cheeks flared up; the skin above her lip turned moist.
“You’re her granny, for God’s sake! This isn’t one of your TV shows!”
This reaction was so unlike Jordan. Was it envy, resentment? Clarissa didn’t know how to face it. She foresaw she was not going to handle what came next well, and that whatever she had to say would not be appreciated.
“I understand you’re angry and concerned. I never wanted to put Andy in danger.”
“But you did! What the hell were you doing in your neighbor’s place anyway? What’s all this business about the C.A.S.A. residence? I couldn’t make any sense out of Andy’s stories.”
“We didn’t break in. The door was open. Jim, my neighbor, has disappeared. We don’t know where he is.”
Jordan seemed impatient.
“What’s this got to do with Andy? Why drag her into all this?”
Like a hot red veil, the burning sensation was now covering Clarissa’s entire body. She was finding it hard to speak. The words were coming out of her mouth too slowly.
“Andy is aware of what is going on in the residence. She’s helping me out.”
“And what is going on, exactly, Mums?”
Clarissa ignored the sarcasm in her daughter’s tone, and did her best to describe what she had endured since her move. She struggled to remain precise and logical. She noticed the way her daughter was looking at her. The piercing gaze made her flounder, and sound confused. She backtracked, tried to add details, to give more explanations, to show how C.A.S.A. was resurrecting her past, her traumas. The words she picked, didn’t they sound exaggerated? Her movements, disorderly? Every sentence she uttered seemed insane. She got muddled up, had to dab beads of sweat off her forehead, asked for some water for her parched throat.
Jordan did not interrupt her. She let her become mired, and when Clarissa finally went quiet, her face crimson, Jordan took her hand. She said she’d been worried for a while now. Ever since Clarissa had left François so precipitously and without any explanation. The breakup had started all this; of that, she was certain. She could tell her mother was slowly sinking into some sort of instability, a constant fatigue that was knocking the stuffing out of her. This could no longer do. It was high time to take action.
“But that’s what I’m doing!” roared Clarissa, startling her daughter, as well as the couple sitting at the next table. “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing, with Andy’s help, because she’s the only one who understands me. All the stuff happening to me is because of the residence and their protocol. I’m fighting back! Andy and I are fighting them and we are trying to figure out what they are doing! And guess what? I know what they want! I’ve guessed it!”
Jordan sighed. She looked dismayed.
“You and your tall tales! The powder, clicking noise, sleep disturbances, vanishing neighbor and whatnot, that’s in your head, Mums. Only in your head. You like to embellish, to pretend, to bamboozle, because that’s your job! None of this is real life. What is real, however, is that you’re going through a low. No need to shy away from that word. This is a depression. Like the one you had a long time ago. It’s back. I can see it.”
Clarissa recoiled.
“What are you saying, Jordan?”
“I spent too much time as a child, as a teenager, faced with that haggard, empty, sad expression. The way you look today. You must seek help. The heat wave has made it all worse. You probably had heatstroke, hallucinations, whatever. You’re getting on, Mums. Look at you. Your mouth is dry; you’ve lost weight; you can’t even breathe properly. Let me help you. I’m here.”
Clarissa said nothing, stunned. The gap between her daughter and herself seemed irreversible, as if a furious torrent divided them, without a single bridge in sight. She had never gone through this situation before. Jordan had always been her rock. Jordan had always supported her.
“You’re going to go home, Mums,” her daughter was saying, levelheaded and calm, with her lovely orator’s voice, “and you’re going to rest. I’m getting hold of a good psychiatrist, someone I trust, and she will help you. Don’t worry. After a couple of appointments, and the proper treatment, I’m sure you’ll feel better.”
Jordan’s lips stretched into a small smile. She patted her mother’s hand.
“You’ll be fine. If you follow my advice, you’ll be just fine.”
NOTEBOOK
I remained rooted to the spot, incapable of making a single move. What was I to do? She was going to turn around and see me. The only way out was to leave now, right away, before she woke up.
The intense, mawkish perfume made my head spin. I felt myself sway, afraid I might tumble. The wood boards squeaked as I stepped back. I was sure she was going to awaken, but she went on sleeping peacefully. I looked at her plump shoulders, her fleshy buttocks enhanced by a short black lace negligée.
I couldn’t understand. My husband was a mature, sophisticated gentleman. He was refined, elegant. True, he had often cheated on me with a series of faceless, nameless women. Had they all been part of the young, blond, petite, chubby category? In that case, what was he still doing with me? Either that or, I had to admit it, my husband was a stranger. A man I had been intimate with, a man I thought I knew,
