The fifth shot (4)
Over nine months I felt the result of that night move inside me. I was so torn in my world between an abandoning husband, my loving son, and my expected son Phillipe to be. But I felt as proud as every mother would feel. I felt I was adding another piece of life to the world. My only regret would be that I would be adding another Pierre to the world. Why did it feel like it was Pierre? Call it a woman’s instinct. All crop growers know what seed they plant, and what crop they will sow.
A year later, Phillipe grew in our lives. He was as lively as any boy would be with the addition of an absent father. Yet, in spite of Pierre seeming not to notice Phillipe’s existence, they seemed to share the bond of genealogy. At this young age, with them almost fifty years apart, they seemed to understand each other, as if Phillipe was his comrade in his political party. Pierre had stopped asking me altogether to attend any events. And I wondered, after that night I never forgot with another woman’s perfume in my nostrils, how he attended these events without me as his wife next to him.
So, I did what any sane woman would do. I went through his things. When he was out, and with Phillipe playing around me, I went through his dinner jackets to see what I could find. There are some moments in a married life when you realize how happy you are that you have a proud husband who made no effort to hide the trail he had left. It almost felt as if he was taunting me and he had left what I found on purpose.
There was that picture of a beautiful young woman staring at the eyes of the beholder. On the picture was a heart drawn by lipstick and under it the name Jeanne. I tried to remember if there ever had been a Jeanne that looked like her that we both knew during our married live together. Images flit through my brains and I thought I might have landed on the right Jeanne. But I thought to myself that that it was impossible. Jeanne was barely a child back then. I looked again at the picture and I could see the resemblance. I saw how that child could become that woman.
Knowing that he would deny having an affair with her, I used what womanly wiles I had left in me, after taking depression drugs, and go to one of the event with him. It was no easy task to convince me before I convince him that I would go. When he refused, saying that he had found ‘another way’ to introduce me, seeing that I am always in a sickly fashion, I threatened him that I would simply spread the rumor that he was having an affair. And a rumor was good enough to ruin his political career. Under such pressure, he reluctantly agreed to take me with him to the next event. The big question on my mind was: will proud Pierre bring his wife and his mistress in the same place. Knowing him, he probably would.
At the event, I could see the gleaming eyes staring at me as if some had already known the secret I was about to discover. I walked in an evening dress of my own choice, conservative and non-revealing. I did not care how they stared at me or what they thought of me. My only concern and eyes were on if Jeanne would make an appearance. I sifted the women through the crowd but no Jeanne was to be found. Maybe I was wrong about Pierre after all. Maybe common sense does know how to make way into his mind.
And the same as last time, the women separated into the parlor. And the same as last time, the gossip fired up. But I wasn’t the country girl anymore. I was a woman with viciousness on my mind. I was a woman with determination to get what’s mine and keep it, even it costs someone else’s life and this time they could feel it. I did not drink as much because I wanted to stay sober because I had a feeling something would happen.
Suddenly, we were all called outside. We went out to find the head of the political party standing in the hall and saying ‘My dear friends’ raising a glass of wine. ‘and wives of friend. We are celebrating a special occasion tonight.’ There emerged Pierre from among the ranks like Poseidon from the sea ‘it is with great honor to announce our latest party’s representative in parliament. Monsieur and doctor Pierre Chevallier. Please raise your glasses in his honor.’. I knew I had to keep up appearances so I rushed across the hall from where I stood to show him my wife’s affections. And as soon as I reached him, he swerved in pretense of addressing someone else. Someone else was there and she was Jeanne.
Pierre said “You know Jeanne, Monsieur Dupont’s wife.” in an attempt to introduce her to me. I put my hand forward to her and shook it. “Yes, of course. I know her all too well. Wasn’t just a small child when we met her 10 years ago.”. Pierre said with a shaken voice. “Yes. Well, the years fly by so quickly.” Then he whispered to me. “Don’t ruin this moment for me, you fat cow.” I said sarcastically. “Which moment exactly are you talking about dear?”. Then I said out loud to her. “Where’s your husband? Does he know you’re here.” She actually replied with such composure. “Yes, of course. But he’s got a business to run. You know some things in life need money to happen and there are those who provide money for them and my husband is one of them.”. I said. “It’s funny that I didn’t see in the parlor where all the women were.”. She said “Well, that’s because that’s where you belong. I like a more liberal view” and she looked at Pierre admiringly. “Don’t you just feel proud that our Pierre has won his seat in parliament? Do you think he would have done that with you hiding in the parlor. Sometimes, a man needs his woman next to him.” And her hand slid down and the tip of her little finger touched his. “Of course,” I said. “the wife, not the bimbo. After all, what respectable conservative party will accept the liberal view once they know how wide open it is?” And with that I left them together.
I watched from a distance and it appeared that she was furious but there I was on side of the room with other people, none of whom interested me and I was of no interest to anyone. I was beaten by so many things that I was almost going to give myself up to drinking for the second time. But maybe I was saved by the one person I expected the least: Mrs. Carron. She showed up out of nowhere and knew exactly where I was looking. She stood next to me and said “You remind me of myself years ago when I came here knowing nothing till I learned everything. You know what I learned dear.” She came close to my ears and whispered. “Some things just don’t get settled. You need to settle them yourself” and then she opened my purse and put something in it. She finally said: “Only you can set yourself free. As long as there is a slave owner, there will always be a slave. You know what happens to slaves dear when they ‘expire’? They don’t send them to a nursing home. They get shot. When the time comes, which end of the gun would you like to be?”