Читать книгу Fresh Water for Flowers - Valérie Perrin - Страница 34

Philippe Toussaint married me on September 3rd, 1989, the day of Léonine’s third birthday. He didn’t propose to me on bended knee and all that. He just said to me one evening, between one “I’m going for a ride” and another that “It’d be good if we were married for the little one’s sake.” End of story.

A few weeks later, he asked me if I’d called the town hall to schedule a date. He said exactly that, “schedule a date.” The word “schedule” wasn’t in his vocabulary. That’s how I realized that he was just repeating a sentence that had been said to him. Philippe Toussaint married me at the request of his mother. So I couldn’t have custody of Léonine if we separated. Or take off, from one day to the next, without a trace, as “those girls” do. Yes, in the eyes of Mother Toussaint, I would always be “the other one,” “she,” “that girl.” I’d never have a first name. Just as she would never be Chantal for me.