The Fury and Cries of Women Page 5

  Before she married, her sister had given her one piece of advice, which came into her mind now: “Whatever your reasons, never go against your in-laws. Even if your husband shares your opinion. You’ll find yourself ostracized, unless, of course, they are nice enough not to push for your divorce. You’ll be better off, believe me, if you let go of your principles of a liberated woman right now.”

  So Emilienne reassured everyone. Seeing the solemn gaze that fell from the eyes of the two young boys, she believed for a moment that she was their saving grace. Her tone of voice became condescending when she said she was flattered her sister-in-law would place such confidence in her and that she would not disappoint her. Her husband, who had grown taciturn awaiting her decision, began laughing like a little child and served drinks to everyone.

  Emilienne was surprised at her own speech. Wasn’t she becoming a hypocrite in order to please, and, at the same time, condescending in order to mask her game? Her sister called it the art of making her in-laws love and respect her.

  “Why make enemies,” she’d declared with an air of self-assurance, “when, with a little flattery and a hint of superiority, you can easily make allies of them? In my case, I can assure you that my in-laws are utterly devoted to me, and if it came down to it, they would band together against my husband to defend me. You see, hypocrisy is not a failing if it’s used to stay on good terms with those who surround you.”

  EMILIENNE SHOOK her head. “How has all my willingness toward my in-laws served me? Is it because I am not a hypocrite? It’s too late, I will never change.” She watched her sleeping nephews for a moment. “Tonight when she comes home, I won’t scold her.” She left the room.

  In the living room, Joseph was asleep. Feeling utterly alone, it was her turn to pick up the receiver.

  “Eva, I need you—can you come right away?”

  “What is happening?” Her sister’s voice sounded alarmed at the other end of the line.

  “Rékia has been gone since this morning.”

  “What?! I’ll be right there . . . stay calm.”

  She called her manager and secretary. When she hung up, she turned on the radio just as the announcer read the notice of Rékia’s disappearance. After the third announcement, she turned the radio off, took a book from the library, and went to sit on the lawn.

  Roxanne ran over to lie at her feet. She petted the animal distractedly and lay down on the warm, moist grass. The dog came over to lick her face. Having kept from thinking the worst until now, Emilienne panicked. Her whole body trembled in terror. Her arms were covered with goose bumps. She felt cold, afraid, alone. Stubbornly, she tried to concentrate on her reading, but her gaze blurred. Eva found her staring at the words on the page which she was holding upside down.

  “Still no news?”

  “No!”

  “What happened?”

  She collapsed on the grass as her little sister recounted her daughter’s disappearance.

  “All we can do now is wait,” Emilienne concluded, closing her book.

  She was pale and looked as if she had lost weight since morning.

  “Unbelievable! You don’t think she went off with a stranger at her age! And, even if she was assaulted and abducted, there must be people who saw her struggle or heard her scream. At 8 a.m. there are so many pedestrians rushing around, and traffic is dense. Are you sure you’ve done everything you could? If they don’t find her by tonight, Joseph should have the police question the students. They had to have noticed someone suspicious around the schools. By the way, I just stopped by to give Mama the news. She wanted to come with me, but her toothache has her bedridden. I’ll stop by there tonight on my way home. I don’t understand why phone lines are always down in their district when it rains.”

  She brought her hand to her head. In her rush she’d forgotten to put on her scarf, and her half-undone braids blew in the intermittent breeze.

  Before running to meet her sister, she had hastily thrown on an old dress that gathered at the bust. If Rékia hadn’t disappeared, Emilienne would have teased her, comparing her to a country girl on her way back from the fields.

  When the phone rang, to Emilienne’s ears it seemed like an ambulance blaring its siren. She ran into the house, her sister close behind, as Joseph picked up the receiver.

  The creases on his forehead ran deeper than ever as he stared, listening intently to the voice on the line.

  “I’ll be right there,” he mumbled and hung up.

  Emilienne grabbed him by the belt.

  “Who was it? The police? You’re going to look for her, right? Did they say where they found her? Why won’t you answer me? Why do you look so upset? You should be relieved.”

  She grabbed his sleeve. Joseph ran his hand through his hair and placed the phone down before muttering:

  “They found a young girl’s body; her description matches Rékia’s. Of course, that doesn’t mean anything. I am going to see.”

  Emilienne’s grip tightened and remained pressed against her husband’s sleeves.

  “They’re just saying any foolish thing they can come up with. You and I both know it can’t be Rékia.”

  “You’re right,” her husband answered cautiously. “I am going to go see anyway. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

  Eva ran toward her sister, whose arms fell limp at her sides. Her knees weak, Emilienne followed her husband into the kitchen.

  “Head up, Emie,” Eva mumbled, holding back her tears. “You’re right. I don’t think it’s Rékia. She will be fine; she’ll be back with us very soon.”

  She helped her regain her balance.

  One grandchild in each arm, Eyang followed behind Joseph hurriedly until he reached the car. Then, with a grave look in her eyes, she joined the two women in the living room. Emilienne released herself from her sister’s grip and slid down on the tile floor, her legs and body in a perfectly straight line.

  Outside, it was dreary and cold, typical weather for the dry season. From the other side of the street, they could hear the first crows of the roosters as night fell surreptitiously over the city. A car revved its engine outside. The children got out and ran to join Openda and his wife. Rondani hurried to her two daughters, her arms raised.

  “Emie, Eva, what is happening?” she asked in a hoarse voice, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “How could the child have disappeared? And where were you when this happened?”

  “Calm down, Mama,” her elder daughter replied. “Let’s wait for Joseph. It won’t be long before he’s back. We still don’t actually know anything.”

  “Why are you in such a state?” their father scolded, clenching his fists as he hunched over.

  “We got a call from the police saying they had found a young girl’s body . . .”

  This time it was Rondani who collapsed on the divan and placed her hand over her heart. Eyang, standing a couple of steps behind her reached out to help her. An anxious look in his eyes, Openda, too, sat down facing his wife. Crouched in fear at the corner of the stone wall enclosing the terrace, the two boys looked into the living room with stricken eyes. Her tail between her legs, Roxanne scurried cautiously over to Emilienne, who immediately shoved her aside. The animal turned away sheepishly and went to curl up underneath one of the bougainvilleas in the yard. Hearing her neighbor scream at her daughter in the villa next door made Emilienne burst into tears, and she threw herself down onto the cold tiles of the floor.

  “My poor child! I am sure they’re mistaken. Eva, go see if she’s coming.”

  Her tears clung to the subtle lines that marked her age and then streamed down her neck.

  “Do you know, Mama,” she screamed at her mother, “that she just got her period for the first time last week? Yes, she has matured. She is old enough to create life herself now. Soon you will be a grandmother because she will not be sterile.”

  Her mother rushed over to her as mute as a fish and wiped her cheeks dry.

 
“Please calm down, I beg you,” Eva murmured under her breath. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

  She bit her lips.

  Openda got up, left the room, and paced around the yard, his hands clasped behind his back. Eyang, her face contorted in pain, hobbled over to sit with the three women; just then the engine of the car sputtered outside.

  “They are back!” Emilienne cried out, leaping out the door. “What did I tell you? Rékia! Where were you? You really gave us a scare!”

  The young woman let out the cry of a wounded animal when Joseph took a bloody body wrapped in a white sheet out of the backseat. The young girl’s head and face were bruised, and there was a deep cut above the arch of her left eyebrow. Holding her inert body tightly in his arms, Joseph walked slowly toward them. Emilienne threw herself onto them and fainted. Everyone started screaming. The children covered their faces with their hands.

  With great difficulty, Eva lifted her sister and brought her to her room. Eyang, who was following behind, took a step back, grabbed the two boys, ran to the left then to the right, finally found the kitchen door, and rushed in. The kids were running behind her, bumping into the walls before finding themselves locked in their room. As for Rondani, she circled the table, her arms stretched out ahead of her, knocking over the chairs in her frantic rush, and hurried to her daughter’s room.

  With Openda’s help, Joseph laid the body on the mat Eyang brought in, and he, too, joined the women in the bedroom. Eyang followed closely behind with a bucket of water in her hands. Her hands trembling, she poured the bucket of water over her daughter-in-law. Some of it soaked Rondani, who was trying to bring her daughter back to consciousness by slapping her lightly on the cheeks.

  As Eyang worked hard attending to everything, the pagne she wore knotted above her chest came undone, revealing a big red flowery romper that drooped down just below her breasts, shaped like squeezed-out grapefruits. Bracing herself on the carpet, she started searching for her pagne. Surprised by such a sight, her son turned his head away and leaned over his wife, who opened her eyes at that very moment. With brow furrowed, Joseph’s face looked like a mask. He stroked his wife’s disheveled hair for a moment and left the room. His eyes glimmered with sparks. His neck was marked with thick veins. Bent over more than ever, Openda scanned the sitting room, letting his eyes fall and his breath deepen when he found himself facing the small corpse. The children’s wailing in the next room finally woke Emilienne up.

  “What am I doing here? Where is my child?”

  She checked every nook and cranny of the bedroom.

  “My child,” Rondani begged her, “don’t put yourself in this state of mind. Try to pull yourself together.”

  She followed her with arms outstretched. With her damp hair plastered to her face, Emilienne did not hear her mother. She pushed her away when she tried to grab ahold of her. And in spite of her weight, Rondani found herself face down. The thickness of the carpeting and surely her body mass cushioned her fall. Next to her, Eyang picked up her pagne, quickly tied it across her chest, and ran after Emilienne and Eva as they left, the former supported by the latter.

  SEATED NEXT TO HER daughter’s corpse, she caressed her hair, her face, her arms and legs as she rocked herself, eyes closed, back and forth. She looked vulnerable and lost at the same time. All the other women sat around the straw rug. The two men stood. The room was lit with the weak light coming from the terrace. Moaning, cries, and screams of anguish burst from within the house. Their eyes red, the two men coughed and cleared their throats in turn.

  Emilienne quieted down, and the other women, too, calmed down. Pairs of red, puffy eyes stared down at the little girl’s mutilated body, and sobbing broke out again, although it did not drown out the sounds of someone knocking repeatedly at the door. Joseph disappeared and came back with Dominique, Emilienne’s secretary, in tow. The young man whispered something in her ear and then came back to sit down, visibly annoyed. Dominique sat down in a corner. She wore a black dress and black shoes.

  Finally, Openda spoke, his voice cracking:

  “What happened, where, and how was she found?”

  “Police who were patrolling the industrial zone this morning, looking for a group of burglars,” Joseph said, “were informed by an old woman that she’d heard a child’s screams coming from the woods. They found Rékia right away, already dead.”

  Joseph’s voice went silent. The five pairs of eyes stared at him as if, through him, they were reliving the tragic scene. Emilienne looked haggardly upon the corpse, and a frightening smile came to her lips. Joseph continued his story in a voice that was barely audible.

  “Her dress was hung on a tree, and her shoes were lying a few yards from her body.”

  Eyang sniffled loudly as Rondani sobbed to the cadenced rhythm of her heavy breathing. Emilienne, having heard the end of the story, suddenly leaned over the corpse, lifted it up, and held it to her. With the same fervor, the two old women grasped her tightly, trying to pull it away from her. Frantically, Emilienne squirmed and thrashed around with the little body against hers. This time, they managed to unclasp her arms from the corpse. The young woman rolled around on the ground howling. Openda rubbed his eyes vigorously. Next to him, Joseph sniffled.

  “I will find her killer even if it costs me my life,” Joseph threatened.

  All eyes turned toward him.

  Coming out of her desperation, Emilienne’s voice rose up, grew louder and louder until it filled the house. Her words pierced the walls before dying out into the cold, morbid air.

  “I wanted a second child, and now my first has been killed. I am responsible for her death with all my wishing for another child, as if she didn’t count. Before I am even buried, I’m already a wreck, and all my parts have come to pieces, even the one who managed to live independently of me. By choosing her as their victim, they have pierced my belly with their knives. By killing her, they have killed off and buried my already dead womb. From this point on, my womb will serve as my daughter’s coffin and tomb, as it has for all of her brothers and sisters who did not make it out of me alive. They will finally all be reunited in the confines of my body. We will remain together forever.”

  Emilienne bent over and hugged the daughter who, nearly thirteen years ago, had emerged from her body and who, before even becoming fully conscious of her existence, had left this world.

  III

  Drifting

  For several weeks already, Emilienne had been getting home very late at night. When she wasn’t staying late at the office, she was leading women’s meetings for the Single Party or would spend her evenings at her sister’s or her parents’. Since old lady Eyang practically never saw the couple, she took it upon herself, despite her advanced age, to take care of her grandchildren.

  Tonight, however, Joseph came home to spend some time with his mother. To make the few short moments they would spend together a memorable occasion, Eyang asked the cook to prepare her son’s favorite dish. Joseph was especially talkative this evening. Sitting next to his mother on the divan, he had a great time conjuring up memories from his childhood. Visibly delighted by this regained intimacy, his mother corrected him when he got a date wrong or mixed up facts.

  Evoking those distant memories lasted a good two hours. In the end, his mother stopped talking so that her son could watch the evening news on TV. She was eager to talk with him about the issue that she could barely contain. Tonight the news seemed longer than usual. So Eyang got up, went to tuck in her grandchildren, who had already been asleep for a while, and then came back and sat down just as her son was turning off the television set.

  “My son, we need to talk a little bit about you.”

  She tied the belt of her lace bathrobe, which her son had brought back for her from France before their falling out about his marriage.

  “What do you want to say to me, Mama?” he asked with a smile and a simultaneous yawn.

  “Don’t act as though you’re so tired; I am
very serious. The child you had with your wife is dead, so you are in the same position today as when you first got together. As your mother, I want to know what you plan to do with your wife.”

  Joseph, who had been listening to his mother half asleep with his eyes half closed, became wide-eyed and sat up straight.

  “What do you mean? I’m not going there with you,” he retorted dryly.

  “You’ve understood me just fine,” his mother interrupted. “That woman is useless to you now, and, since you spend your nights with another, you obviously don’t love her anymore. Don’t tell me that you’re going to keep up this double life for long.”

  Joseph grumbled like a child, then was very clear in his answer:

  “You know, your reasoning is really simplistic. Do you think people just leave their wife like that after living together for nearly fifteen years, if I count the year we were together in college? When are you going to understand that I don’t like hearing you talk about my wife with such contempt? Get it through your head once and for all that I have no intention of leaving Emilienne. Have you tried for a minute to put yourself in her shoes? She has just lost a child, and even though she’s stopped saying so, I am sure that now more than ever she wants to have another one. I may be unfaithful, but I’m not a louse. Plus, so many things tie us together.”

  “No, Son,” his mother started in again firmly, “I do not agree with you one bit. What ties you together? Memories! We don’t build our lives on memories. My grandfather often said to my father that the life of a human being has worth only if he has ambition and shows his dedication through work and thought. Memories don’t help a man get ahead. And I don’t think your complicated studies can refute those wise words. I would like to know what you want to save in your marriage! For the sake of appearances? Be careful—you won’t always be young. If you had listened to me before choosing that woman for your wife, you wouldn’t be in this situation today. If your own happiness is nothing to you, at least think of that younger woman who wants only to love you. I stopped by to see her yesterday and found her very unhappy. If you don’t make a clear choice between those two women, you’ll lose them both. Be wary of women in love, they are capable of the meanest things when men don’t give them the attention they demand.”