2
As I was waking up, it came to me why my boss had
seemed annoyed when I asked him for two days off :
today is Saturday. I'd sort of forgotten, but as I was
getting up, it came to me. And, naturally, my boss
thought about the fact that I'd be getting four days'
vacation that way, including Sunday, and he couldn't
have been happy about that. But, in the first place, it
isn't my fault if they buried Maman yesterday instead
of today, and second, I would have had Saturday and
Sunday off anyway. Obviously, that still doesn't keep me
from understanding my boss's point of view.
I had a hard time getting up, because I was tired
from the day before. While I was shaving, I wondered
what I was going to do and I decided to go for a swim. I
caught the streetcar to go to the public beach down at
the harbor. Once there, I dove into the channel. There
were lots of young people. In the water I ran into M arie
Cardona, a former typist in our office whom I'd had a
thing for at the time. She did too, I think. But she'd left
soon afterwards and we didn't have the time. I helped
her onto a Hoat and as I did, I brushed against her breasts.
o T H E S T R A N G E R v
I was still in the water when she was already lying flat
on her stomach on the float. She turned toward me. Her
hair was in her eyes and she was laughing. I hoisted
myself up next to her. It was nice, and, sort of joking
around, I let my head fall back and rest on her stomach .
She didn't say anything so I left it there. I had the whole
sky in my eyes and it was blue and gold. On the back
of my neck I could feel Marie's heart beating softly. We
lay on the Boat for a long time, half asleep. When the
sun got too hot, she dove off and I followed. I caught
up with her, put my arm around her waist, and we
swam together. She laughed the whole time. On the
dock, while we were drying ourselves off, she said, ''I'm
darker than you." I asked her if she wanted to go to
the movies that evening. She laughed again and told me
there was a Fernandel movie she'd like to see. Once we
were dressed, she seemed very surprised to see I was
wearing a black tie and she asked me if I was in mourn
She wanted to knowing. I told her Maman had died.
how long ago, so I said, "Yesterday." She gave a little
start but didn't say anything. I felt like telling her it
wasn't my fault, but I stopped myself because I re
membered that I'd already said that to my boss. It didn't
mean anything. Besides, you always feel a little guilty.
By that evening Marie had forgotten all about it. The
movie was funny in parts, but otherwise it was just too
stupid. She had her leg pressed against mine. I was
fondling her breasts. Toward the end of the show, I gave her a kiss, but not a good one. She came back to my place.
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When I woke up, Marie had gone. She'd explained
to me that she had to go to her aunt's. I remembered that
it was Sunday, and that bothered me: I don't like Sun
days. So I rolled over, tried to find the salty smell Marie's
hair had left on the pillow, and slept until ten . Then I
smoked a few cigarettes, still in bed, till noon . I didn't
feel like having lunch at Celeste's like I usually did be
cause they'd be sure to ask questions and I don't like
that. I fixed myself some eggs and ate them out of the
pan, without bread because I didn't have any left and
I didn't feel like going downstairs to buy some.
After lunch I was a little bored and I wandered
around the apartment. It was just the right size when
Maman was here. Now it's too big for me, and I've had
to move the dining room table into my bedroom . I live in
just one room now, with some saggy straw chairs, a ward
robe whose mirror has gone yellow, a dressing table, and
a brass bed. I've let the rest go. A little later, just for
something to do, I picked up an old newspaper and read
it. I cut out an advertisement for Kruschen Salts and
stuck it in an old notebook where I put things from the
papers that interest me. I also washed my hands, and
then I went out onto the balcony.
My room looks out over the main street in the neigh
borhood . It was a beautiful afternoon . Yet the pavement
was wet and slippery, and what few people there were
were in a hurry. First, it was families out for a walk : two
little boys in sailor suits, with trousers below the knees,
looking a little cramped in their stiff clothes, and a little
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girl with a big pink bow and black patent-leather shoes .
Behind them, an enormous mother, in a brown silk
dress, and the father, a rather frail little man I know by
sight. He had on a straw hat and a bow tie and was
carrying a walking stick. Seeing him with his wife, I
understood why people in the neighborhood said he was
distinguished. A little later the local boys went by, hair
greased back, red ties, tight-fitting jackets, wi�h em
broidered pocket handkerchiefs and square-toed shoes. I
thought they must be heading to the movies in town .
That was why they were leaving so early and hurrying
toward the streetcar, laughing loudly.
After them, the street slowly emptied out. The
matinees had all started, I guess. The only ones left were
the shopkeepers and the cats. The sky was clear but dull
above the fig trees lining the street. On the sidewalk
across the way the tobacconist brought out a chair, set
it in front of his door, and straddled it, resting his arms
on the back. The streetcars, packed a few minutes before,
were almost empty. In the little cafe Chez Pierrot, next
door to the tobacconist's, the waiter was sweeping up the
sawdust in the deserted restaurant inside. It was Sunday
all right.
I turned my chair around and set it down like the
tobacconist's because I found that it was more comfortable
that way. I smoked a couple of cigarettes, went inside to
get a piece of chocolate, and went back to the window to
eat it. Soon after that, the sky grew dark and I thought
we were in for a summer storm. Gradually, though , it
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cleared up again . But the passing clouds had left a hint
of rain hanging over the street, which made i t look
darker. I sat there for a long time and watched the sky.
At five o'clock some streetcars pulled up, clanging
away. They were bringing back gangs of fans from the
local soccer stadium. They were crowded onto the run
ning boards and hanging from the handrails. The street
cars that followed brought back the players, whom I
recognized by their little athletic bags. They were shout
ing and singing at the tops of their lungs that their team
would never die. Several of them waved to me. One of
them even yelled up to me, "We beat 'em!" And I
nodded, as if to say "Yes. " From then on there was a
steady stream of cars.
The sky changed again. Above the rooftops the sky
had taken on a reddish glow, and with evening coming
on the streets came to life. People were straggling back
from their walks. I recognized the distinguished little
man among the others. Children were either crying or
lagging behind. Almost all at once moviegoers spilled
out of the neighborhood theaters into the street. The
young men among them were gesturing more excitedly
than usual and I thought they must have seen an ad
venture film. The ones who had gone to the movies in
town came back a little later. They looked more serious.
They were still laughing, but only now and then, and
they seemed tired and dreamy. But they hung around
anyway, walking up and down the sidewalk across the
street. The local girls, bareheaded, were walking arm in
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arm. The young men had made sure they would have
to bump right into them and then they would make
cracks. The girls giggled and turned their heads away.
Several of the girls, whom I knew, waved to me.
Then the street lamps came on all of a sudden and
made the first stars appearing in the night sky grow dim .
I felt my eyes getting tired from watching the street
filled with so many people and lights. The street lamps
were making the pavement glisten, and the light from
the streetcars would glint off someone's shiny hair, or off
a smile or a silver bracelet. Soon afterwards, with the
streetcars running less often and the sky already blue
above the trees and the lamps, the neighborhood emptied
out, almost imperceptibly, until the first cat slowly made
its way across the now deserted street. Then I thought
maybe I ought to have some dinner.' My neck was a little
stiff from resting my chin on the back of the chair for
so long. I went downstairs to buy some bread and spa
ghetti, did my cooking, and ate standing up. I wanted to
smoke a cigarette at the window, but the air was getting
colder and I felt a little chilled. I shut my windows, and
as I was coming back I glanced at the mirror and saw a
corner of my table with my alcohol lamp next to some
pieces of bread. It occurred to me that anyway one more
Sunday was over, that Maman was buried now, that I
was going back to work, and that, really, nothing had
changed.
