5
Raymond called me at the office. He told me that a
friend of his (he'd spoken to him about me) had invited
me to spend the day Sunday at his little beach house,
near Algiers. I said I'd really like to, but I'd promised to
spend the day with a girlfriend. Raymond immediately
told me that she was invited too. His friend's wife would
be very glad not to be alone with a bunch of men .
I wanted to hang up right away because I know the
boss doesn't like people calling us from town. But Ray
mond asked me to hang on and told me he could have
passed on the invitation that evening, but he had some
thing else to tell me. He'd been followed all day by a
group of Arabs, one of whom was the brother of his
former mistress. "If you see him hanging around the
building when you get home this evening, let me know."
I said I would.
A little later my boss sent for me, and for a second I
was annoyed, because I thought he was going to tell me
to do less talking on the phone and more work. But that
wasn't it at all. He told me he wanted to talk to me about
a plan of his that was still pretty vague. He just wanted
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to have my opinion on the matter. He was planning to
open an office in Paris which would handle his business
directly with the big companies, on the spot, and he
wanted to know how I felt about going there. I'd be
able to live in Paris and to travel around for part of the
year as well . "You're young, and it seems to me i t's the
kind of life that would appeal to you." I said yes but
that really it was all the same to me. Then he asked me
if I wasn't interested in a change of life. I said that peo
ple never change their lives, that in any case one life was
as good as another and that I wasn't dissatisfied with
mine here at all . He looked upset and told me that I
never gave him a straight answer, that I had no ambition,
and that that was disastrous in business. So I went back
to work. I would rather not have upset him, but I
couldn't see any reason to change my life. Looking back
on it, I wasn't unhappy. When I was a student, I had
lots of ambitions like that. But when I had to give up my
studies I learned very quickly that none of it really
mattered.
That evening Marie carne by to see me and asked me
if I wanted to marry her. I said it didn't make any differ
ence to me and that we could if she wanted to. Then she
wanted to know if I loved her. I answered the same way
I had the last time, that it didn't mean anything but that
I probably didn't love her. "So why marry me, then?"
she said. I explained to her that it didn't really matter
and that if she wanted to, we could get married. Besides,
she was the one who was doing the asking and all I was
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saying was yes. Then she pointed out that marriage was
a serious thing. I said, "No." She stopped talking for a
minute and looked at me without saying anything. Then
she spoke. She just wanted to know if I would have
accepted the same proposal from another woman, with
whom I was involved in the same way. I said, "Sure."
Then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there
was no way I could know about that. After another
moment's silence, she mumbled that I was peculiar, that
that was probably why she loved me but that one day I
might hate her for the same reason . I didn't say anything,
because I didn't have anything to add, so she took my arm
with a smile and said she wanted to marry me. I said
we could do it whenever she wanted. Then I told her
about my boss's proposition and she said she'd love to see
Paris. I told her that I'd lived there once and she asked
me what it was like. I said, "It's dirty. Lots of pigeons and
dark courtyards. Everybody's pale."
Then we went for a walk through the main streets to
the other end of town. The women were beautiful and I
asked Marie if she'd noticed. She said yes and that she
understood what I meant. For a while neither of us said
anything. But I wanted her to stay with me, and I told
her we could have dinner together at Celeste's. She
would have liked to but she had something to do. We
were near my place and I said goodbye to her. She
looked at me. "Don't you want to know what I have to
do?" I did, but I hadn't thought to ask, and she seemed to
be scolding me . Then, seeing me so confused, she
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laughed again and she moved toward me with her whole
body to offer me her lips.
I had dinner at Celeste's. I'd already started eating
when a strange little woman came in and asked me if
she could sit at my table. Of course she could. Her
gestures were jerky and she had bright eyes i n a little
face like an apple. She took off her jacket, sat down, and
studied the menu feverishly. She called Celeste over and
ordered her whole meal all at once, in a voice that was
clear and very fast at the same time. While she was
waiting for her first course, she opened her bag, took
out a slip of paper and a pencil, added up the bill in
advance, then took the exact amount, plus tip, out of a
vest pocket and set it down on the table in front of her.
At that point the waiter brought her first course and she
gulped it down. While waiting for the next course, she
again took out of her bag a blue pencil and a magazine
that listed the radio programs for the week. One by one,
and with great care, she checked off almost every pro
gram. Since the magazine was about a dozen pages long,
she meticulously continued this task throughout the
meal. I had already finished and she was still checking
away with the same zeal . Then she stood up, put her
jacket back on with the same robotlike movements, and
left. I didn't have anything to do, so I left too and fol
lowed her for a while. She had positioned herself right
next to the curb and was making her way with in
credible speed and assurance, never once swerving or
looking around. I eventually lost sight of her and turned
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back. I thought about how peculiar she was but forgot
about her a few minutes later.
I found old Salamano waiting outside my door. I
asked him in and he told me that his dog was lost, be
cause it wasn't at the pound. The people who worked
there had told him that maybe it had been run over. He
asked if he could find out at the police station. They
told him that they didn't keep track of things like that
because they happened every day. I told old Salamano
that he could get another dog, but he was right to point
out to me that he was used to this one.
I was sitting cross-legged on my bed and Salamano
had sat down on a chair in front of the table. He was
facing me and he had both hands on his knees. He had
kept his old felt hat on . He was mumbling bits and pieces
of sentences through his yellowing moustache. He was
getting on my nerves a little, but I didn't have anything
to do and I didn't feel sleepy. Just for something to say, I
asked him about his dog. He told me he'd gotten it after
his wife died. He had married fairly late. When he was
young he'd wanted to go into the theater : in the army he
used to act in military vaudevilles. But he had ended
up working on the railroads, and he didn't regret it,
because now he had a small pension. He hadn't been
happy with his wife, but he'd pretty much gotten used
to her. When she died he had been very lonely. So he
asked a shop buddy for a dog and he'd gotten this one
very young. He'd had to feed it from a bottle. But since
a dog doesn't live as long as a man, they'd ended up
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being old together. "He was bad-tempered," Salamano
said. "We'd have a run-in every now and then. But he
was a good dog just the same." I said he was well bred
and Salamano looked pleased. "And," he added, "you
didn't know him before he got sick. His coat was the
best thing about him." Every night and every morning
after the dog had gotten that skin disease, Salamano
rubbed him with ointment. But according to him, the
dog's real sickness was old age, and there's no cure for
old age.
At that point I yawned, and the old man said he'd be
going. I told him that he could stay and that I was sorry
about what had happened to his dog. He thanked me.
He told me that Maman was very fond of his dog. He
called her "your poor mother." He said he supposed I
must be very sad since Maman died, and I didn't say
anything. Then he said, very quickly and with an em
barrassed look, that he realized that some people in the
neighborhood thought badly of me for having sent
Maman to the home, but he knew me and he knew I
loved her very much. I still don't know why, but I said
that until then I hadn't realized that people thought
badly of me for doing it, but that the home had seemed
like the natural thing since I didn't have enough money
to have Maman cared for. "Anyway," I added, "it had
been a long time since she'd had anything to say to me,
and she was bored all by hersel f." "Yes," he said, "and at
least in a home you can make a few friends." Then he
said good night. He \Nanted to sleep. His life had changed
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now and he wasn't too sure what he was going to do.
For the first time since I'd known him, and with a furtive
gesture, he offered me his hand, and I felt the scales on
his skin. He gave a little smile, and before he left he
said, "I hope the dogs don't bark tonight. I always think
it's mine."
