Hunting and Gathering

Hunting and Gathering by Anna Gavalda

Book: Hunting and Gathering by Anna Gavalda Read Free Book Online
Authors: Anna Gavalda
Ads: Link
thing. But he couldn’t help it. He wept like a big baby, like a useless moron, like some guy who was about to take the only person on the planet he’d ever loved and consign her to her grave. The only person, too, who’d ever loved him.
    Â 
Franck was bent over double, racked with sorrow and smeared with snot.
    When he finally accepted that there was no way he could stop, he wrapped his sweater around his head and folded his arms.
    Â 
He was hurting, he was cold and he was ashamed.
    He stood under the shower with his eyes closed and his face held up to it, until there was no more hot water. He cut himself shaving because he didn’t have the guts to face himself in the mirror. He didn’t want to think about it. Not now, not for the time being. The dike wasn’t strong, and if he let go, thousands of images would flood his brain. He’d never seen his grandma anywhere else, only there in her house—her mornings in the garden, her days in the kitchen, and in the evenings, by his bedside . . .
    Â 
When Franck was a child he suffered from insomnia. He had night-mares and would scream and call out to his grandma, swearing that when she closed the door his legs sank down a deep hole and he had to cling to the bars of his bed to keep from going down after them. All his teachers had suggested consulting a psychologist, but the neighbors shook their heads gravely and advised taking him to the bonesetter to have his nerves put right. As for Paulette’s husband, he wanted her to stop going upstairs to Franck. You’re spoiling the boy! he said. You’re the one who’s driving him crazy! For Christ’s sake, just love him a little less! Just let him cry for a while, he’ll stop pissing so much for a start, and you’ll see, he’ll go to sleep just the same.
    And Paulette would say yes to everyone, docile as could be, but she didn’t do what anyone said. She’d fix Franck a glass of hot sugared milk with a bit of orange-flower water and, sitting by him on her chair, she held his head while he drank. There, you see, I’m right here. She folded her arms, sighed, and dozed off when he did. Or sometimes even before he did. It was not so bad as long as she was there, everything would be all right. He could stretch out his legs.
    Â 
“By the way, there’s no more hot water,” said Franck to Philibert.
    â€œOh, no, that’s terrible . . . I don’t know what to say, you—”
    â€œStop apologizing, shit! I’m the one who emptied the tank, okay? I did it. So don’t apologize!”
    â€œI’m sorry, I just thought—”
    â€œYou know what? You’re starting to piss me off. If you want to go being a doormat, that’s your problem.”
    Franck left the room and went to iron his work clothes. He absolutely had to buy some new jackets because he didn’t have enough to see out the week. He didn’t have time. There was never enough time, never the time to do a fucking thing.
    He had only one day off a week, and he was damned if he was going to spend it at some old folks’ home in the back of beyond, watching his grandmother cry her eyes out.
    Â 
Philibert was already settled in his armchair with his parchments and all his heraldry crap.
    â€œPhilibert?”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œListen, hey, I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I’ve got a lot of shit going on right now and I’m up to here with it. And on top of it all, I’m exhausted.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter.”
    â€œYes, it does matter.”
    â€œWhat matters, you see, is to say that you’re sorry for doing something, not that you’re sorry about something. It is linguistically too vague, and the other person cannot know whether you are apologizing or just expressing some generalized regret . . .”
    Franck stared at him for a minute before shaking his head. “You really are a weird

Similar Books

Dreadful Summit

Stanley Ellin

Liverpool Annie

Maureen Lee

A Key to the Suite

John D. MacDonald

The Night Watch

Sergei Lukyanenko

Reckless Abandon

Heather Leigh