Читать книгу The Restless - Gerty Dambury - Страница 10

1.

Papa is coming.

Mama said he’s on his way. That’s what she always says.

(But today is different, isn’t it, Mama?)

I’m seated, alone on my bench. I’m waiting for Papa.

(I have no name. I have no face.)

I’m waiting for him to ring the bell at the entrance. Today, all the doors are closed, and locked. Papa can’t get in without ringing.

Papa has disappeared.

On La Place de la Victoire, I saw people running every which way. I heard people screaming.

(Mama, can I come sleep next to you?)

Oh no, I don’t want to sleep next to Mama. I don’t want to finish the mint drop, the one she always gives me when she’s already sucked on it, when it’s flattened out and fragile. The one that breaks on my tongue. I’m too big now.

I want to stay by myself in the courtyard and wait.

My bench is unsteady and hard. My bottom’s sore and it’s dark outside. Night has fallen.

Papa is on his way. Mama said so.

I’m waiting for Papa. I’ll wait for him all night long. He’ll come home and he’ll ask me, “What does my little princess want to tell her Papa?”

I’m going to tell him that everything that has happened since Wednesday morning has made me sad.

I’m going to tell him that my schoolteacher, Madame Ladal, has disappeared and that no one wants to tell us where she is.

I’m going to tell him that it was a white man in a suit who scared her. I don’t know why.

I’m going to tell him that I played hooky today and that I saw fighting at La Place de la Victoire.

Mama said I could have been killed, but it never felt like that.

Maybe Papa will know if I risked my life.

Maybe Papa also risked his life. Maybe he’s already with my other friends—Nono; Hilaire, who some people call Pansy; and all the others.

Maybe they’ll tell me if they crossed his path today.