The Woman Destroyed

The Woman Destroyed by Simone de Beauvoir Page B

Book: The Woman Destroyed by Simone de Beauvoir Read Free Book Online
Authors: Simone de Beauvoir
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was having none of it. Christine with her three great lumps of children it would have suited her down to the ground to have had a big fifteen-year-old girl she could have given all the chores to poor lamb she had no notion the hysterics she put on for the benefit of the police.… Yes the police. Was I supposed to put on kid gloves? What are the police there for? Stray cats? Albert offering me money to give up Sylvie! Always this money how groveling men are they think everything can be bought anyhow I didn’t give a damn about his money it was peanuts compared with what Tristan allows me. And even if I had been broke I’d never have sold my daughter. “Why don’t you let her go, that chick only brings you headaches” Dédé said to me. She doesn’t understand a mother’s feelings she never thinks of anything but her own pleasure. But one must not always be at the receiving end one must also know how to give. I had a great deal to give Sylvie I should have made her into a fine girl: and I asked nothing from her for myself. I was completely devoted. Such ingratitude! It was perfectly natural I should ask that teacher’s help. According to her diary Sylvie worshiped her and I thought she’d hold her bloody tongue the lousy half-bakedintellectual. No doubt there was much more between them than I imagined I’ve always been so clean-minded I never see any harm these alleged brain workers are all bull dykes. Sylvie’s sniveling and fuss after it and my mother who told me on the phone I had no right to intermeddle with my daughter’s friendships. That was the very word she used
intermeddle
. “Oh as far as that was concerned you never intermeddled. And don’t you begin now if you please.” Straight just like that. And I hung up. My own mother it’s utterly unnatural. In the end Sylvie would have realized. That was one of the things that really shattered me at the cemetery. I said to myself “A little later she would have said I was in the right.” The ghastliness of remembering the blue sky all those flowers Albert crying in front of everyone Christ you exercise some self-control. I controlled myself yet I knew very well I’d never recover from the blow. It was me they were burying. I have been buried. They’ve all got together to cover me over deep. Even on this night not a sign of life. They know very well that nights when there are celebrations everybody laughing gorging stuffing one another the lonely ones the bereaved kill themselves just like that. It would suit them beautifully if I were to vanish they hide me in a hole but it doesn’t work I’m a burr in their pants. I don’t intend to oblige them, thank you very much indeed. I want to live I want to come to life again. Tristan will come back to me I’ll be done right by I’ll get out of this filthy hole. If I talked to him now I should feel better maybe I’d be able to sleep. He must be at home he’s an early bedder, he saves himself up. Be calm friendly don’t get his back up otherwise my night is shot to hell.
    He doesn’t answer. Either he’s not there or he doesn’twant to answer. He’s jammed the bell he doesn’t want to listen to what I have to say. They sit in judgment upon me find me guilty not one of them ever listens to me. I never punished Sylvie without listening to what she had to say first it was she who clammed up who wouldn’t talk. Only yesterday he wouldn’t let me say a quarter of what I had to say and I could hear him dozing at the other end of the line. It’s disheartening. I reason I explain I prove: patiently step by step I force them to the truth I think they’re following me and then I ask “What have I just said?” They don’t know they stuff themselves with mental earplugs and if a remark happens to get through their answer is just so much balls. I start over again I pile up fresh arguments: same result. Albert is a champion at that game but Tristan is not so bad either. “You ought to take me away with

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