LOVE PROBABLY

10.

After travelling only a few hundred metres, I understand why Simone is car sick. Gerard is a crazy driver. Loud music in the cabin, Jimmy Durante’s Glory Of Love moreover, and the right foot dancing from the right pedal to the left pedal. This is pure torture for my stomach. Simply unbearable. I have nausea and chicken and fries rise in my throat. I’ll never last until the station. I can’t drive either because I don’t have a licence. Apart from my moped, I don’t know how to drive any other vehicles. When I was younger, I knew how to manoeuvre the tractor, but we got rid of it a long time ago.

Oh, dear. It’s really terrible! I open the window slightly to get some air but it doesn’t work well. The bends don’t help. To top it off, Jimmy begins to sing: “You’ve got to win a little, lose a little. And always have the blues a little.”

My mother loved this song. As soon as she heard it, on TV or on the radio, she would sing it loudly, her eyes shining. I always thought the lyrics should remind her of dad.

Gerard suddenly lowers the volume and gives me strange little glances.

“Madeline, I must confess something,” he finally says.

What’s wrong with him? He makes a funny face. What can he want to tell me? We never talked. Damn… I fear the worst.

“It sounds serious! You scare me! You’re not sick?”

“No, I’m fine, it has nothing to do with my health. It’s probably next to nothing, but it’s been starting to weigh on me for a while. It’s about your mother,” he adds mysteriously.

“Oh…”

“Your mother and I ... uh ... how to tell you?” he hesitates.

“Oh no! Don’t tell me you and my mother... Where? When? How? No, not how! I don’t want to know! Oh, no! And Simone? But that’s awful!” I say disgusted, getting excited in my seat, spasms in my stomach.

“Oh, no... relax! You have some crazy ideas! It’s not at all what you think. Nothing happened between your mother and me.”

“Ah, phew…” I said, deeply relieved. “But then, what is it?”

“Once, when I came to help her make her will, we had a funny conversation.”

“Gerard, are you sure it’s really necessary for me to know what you’re going to tell me?”

He looks at me strangely as if he were analysing my sentence, admittedly a bit complicated.

“I don’t necessarily want to stir up the past,” I said. “Why now?”

“I don’t know. The music, no doubt. When we moved to Wheatacre, I don’t quite remember when, but Simone sent me to your house to help you with your income taxes. Then it became an annual ritual. I really liked that time with your mother. She soothed me. I can’t explain to you why. A real rock, your mother! Hard on the outside, soft on the inside,” he smiles.

“Uh... A rock is made of stone. And stone is rather hard, inside and out.” I say sceptically, in a hurry that he gets straight to the point.

“I was talking about rock cakes,” he clarifies. “Alright, whatever. I’ve never been a great poet. I will continue. One evening, she didn’t look in good shape. She looked like she needed to talk. Something bothered her about your father. She hadn’t gotten over it yet, despite all the years that had passed.”

“Uh, sorry, but this isn’t a scoop!”

“She didn’t speak to many people,” he adds.

“Uh, that’s not a scoop either. She already didn’t talk much to me, her own daughter. Why would she go talk to strangers?”

Ignoring my interruption, Gerard continues:

“So that night, after completing the paperwork, we had a drink, then two, maybe even three... Anyway, I thought it must be good for your mother to let go. She was emotional. I really wanted to hug her. Poor woman.”

“You took advantage of her?” I said, suddenly worried.

“But not at all! I told you nothing happened with your mother. What if you let me finish?”

“And me, where was I during this time?” I ask, puzzled.

“Taxes have never fascinated you. You were in bed, my dear. And you didn’t have to be asked to go there.”

“Oh, and so? You had a drink and after?”

“Well, your mom started jabbering stuff. She spoke of a farmers’ demonstration in London that your father had participated in a few months before his death. That he might have had an affair with a woman. That she never knew if it was true or not. It was the first time she had spoken of her life as a woman. And it wasn’t all that clear…”

Gerard, lost in thought, begins to smile.

“Uh... I don’t see what’s funny in this story…” I point out.

“She was funny, your mom. I felt that she never drank. In less than two, she was completely tipsy.”

“The situation is far from funny. You’re telling me that my father may have cheated on my mother. It’s a very serious accusation, you know!”

“Anyway, they’re both dead so…they won’t be hearing about it. Well… it’s true, maybe I shouldn’t have told you about this.”

“Yeah, I don’t see the point, other than to generate even more grief and regret.”

“I’m sorry. Simone always tells me that I should turn my tongue seven times in my mouth before speaking. Maybe I should listen to her more often!”

In response, I sigh deeply.

“You know... I know about the apartment in London,” he continues, after a while.

“Ah… You know a lot more than I do, in many areas, it seems…”

“Well yes, it helps to do the taxes of others,” he said, giving me a wink. “It’s a bit like being a priest, people go to confession.”

“Of course. I hope that, like the priest, you’ll be able to remain discreet,” I said. “I don’t want the neighbourhood to know all these things.”

“Don’t worry. Nobody will know anything about it, apart from Simone who already knows everything. It’s normal, she’s my wife. I couldn’t not tell her.”

Well, well… in other words, everyone is aware. Not that Simone is a gossip. To be honest, I don’t know, but hey, rumours travel quickly in small villages.

“You’ll be fine up there,” he continues, in a paternal tone. “But come back soon! The village is emptying. Soon Simone and I will be on our own.”

“The main thing is that you love each other.”

“Living together isn’t always easy. But when you commit, it’s for better or for worse. We must make do…”

“I know that,” I said, thinking of the duo Mom and I made.

He smiles at me and then looks away. His words gave me a headache. I turn my head to feel the cool air whipping my face. The countryside goes by at high speed, despite the jolts of Gerard’s particular driving. I take a deep breath. I focus on my breathing. I clear my head. In a few minutes, I forget everything. Why I’m here, in this car with my neighbour, where I’m going and what awaits me. I close my eyes and fall into a deep sleep.