The Notebook + The Proof + The Third Lie (12 page)

"Hurry up while there's still something left. This is the third time I've done my shopping."

We go into the Booksellers and Stationers, whose door is smashed in. There are only a few children inside, younger than us. They are taking pencils and colored chalk, erasers, pencil sharpeners, and schoolbags.

We take our time choosing what we need: a complete encyclopedia in several volumes, pencils, and paper.

In the street, an old man and an old woman are fighting over a smoked ham. They are surrounded by people laughing and urging them on. The woman scratches the old man's face, and in the end she goes off with the ham.

The thieves are guzzling stolen alcohol, picking fights with each another, smashing the windows of the houses and shops they've looted, breaking crockery, flinging to the floor whatever they don't need or can't carry off with them.

The soldiers are also drinking and returning to the houses, but this time to find women.

Everywhere we hear gunshots and the cries of women being raped.

On the Town Square, a soldier plays the accordion. Other soldiers dance and sing.

The Fire

For several days now, we haven't seen our neighbor in her garden. Nor have we met Harelip. We go and investigate.

The door of the shack is open. We enter. The windows are small. It is dark in the room, even though the sun is shining outside.

When our eyes get used to the darkness, we can make out our neighbor lying on the kitchen table. Her legs are dangling, her arms are covering her face. She doesn't move.

Harelip is lying on the bed. She is naked. Between her spread legs there is a dried pool of blood and sperm. Her eyelashes are stuck together forever, her lips are curled up over her black teeth in an eternal smile; Harelip is dead.

Our neighbor says:

"Go away."

We approach her and ask:

"You aren't deaf?"

"No. And I'm not blind either. Go away."

We say:

"We want to help you."

She says:

"I don't need help. I don't need anything. Go away."

We ask:

"What happened here?"

"You can see for yourself. She's dead, isn't she?"

"Yes. It was the new foreigners?"

"Yes.
She
called
them.
She went out on the road and waved at them to come in. There were twelve or fifteen of them. And as they took her, she kept shouting: 'Oh, I'm so happy, I'm so happy! Come, all of you, come on, another one, again, another one!' She died happy, fucked to death. But
I'm
not dead! I've been lying here without eating or drinking for I don't know how long. And death hasn't come. It never does come when you call it. It enjoys torturing us. I've been calling it for years and it pays no attention."

We ask:

"Do you really want to die?"

"What else could I want? If you'd like to do something for me, set fire to the house. I don't want anyone to find us like this."

We say:

"But you'll suffer terribly."

"Don't worry about that. Just set the fire, if you're capable of it."

"Yes, madam, we are capable of it. You can depend on us."

We slit her throat with a stroke of the razor, then we go and siphon some gasoline from an army vehicle. We pour the gasoline over both bodies and on the walls of the shack. We set fire to it and go home.

In the morning, Grandmother says: "The neighbor's house burned down. They were both inside, her daughter and her. The girl must have left something on the fire, ninny that she is."

We go back to get the hens and the rabbits, but other neighbors have already taken them during the night.

The End of the War

For weeks now, we have seen them marching past Grandmother's house, the victorious army of the new foreigners, which we now call the army of the Liberators.

Tanks, cannons, armored cars, and trucks cross the frontier day and night. The front is moving further and further into the neighboring country.

In the opposite direction comes another procession: the prisoners of war, the conquered. Among them are many men from our own country. They are still wearing their uniforms, but they have been stripped of weapons and rank. They march, heads down, to the station, where they are sent off in trains. Where and for how long, nobody knows.

Grandmother says they are being taken very far away, to a cold, uninhabited country where they will be forced to work so hard that none of them will come back. They will all die of cold, exhaustion, hunger, and all kinds of diseases.

A month after our country has been liberated, the war is over everywhere, and the Liberators move into our country, for good, people say. So we ask Grandmother to teach us their language. She says:

"How can I teach it to you? I'm not a teacher."

We say:

"It's simple, Grandmother. All you have to do is talk to us in that language all day, and in the end we'll understand."

Soon we know enough to act as interpreters between the local inhabitants and the Liberators. We take advantage of the fact to trade in articles that the army has plenty of, like cigarettes, tobacco, and chocolate, which we exchange for what the civilians have: wine, brandy, and fruit.

Money has no value anymore; everyone barters.

Girls sleep with soldiers in exchange for silk stockings, jewelry, perfume, watches, and other articles that the soldiers have stolen in the towns along their way.

Grandmother doesn't go to market with her wheelbarrow anymore. Instead well-dressed ladies come to Grandmother's and beg her to trade a chicken or a sausage for a ring or a pair of earrings.

Ration coupons are distributed. People start lining up in front of the butcher's and baker's as early as four in the morning. The other shops stay closed because they have nothing to sell.

Everybody is short of everything.

As for Grandmother and us, we have everything we need.

Later, we have our own army and government again, but our army and our government are controlled by our Liberators. Their flag flies over all the public buildings. Their leader's picture is displayed everywhere. They teach us their songs and their dances, they show us their films in our cinemas. In the schools, the language of our Liberators is compulsory, other foreign languages are forbidden.

It is strictly forbidden to criticize or make jokes about our Liberators or our new government. On the strength of a mere denunciation, anyone at all can be thrown into prison without trial, without sentence. Men and women disappear without anyone knowing why, and their families will never hear from them again.

The frontier has been rebuilt. It is now impassable.

Our country is surrounded by barbed wire; we are completely cut off from the rest of the world.

School Reopens

In the autumn, all the children go back to school, except

us.

We say to Grandmother:

"Grandmother, we never want to go to school again." She says:

"I should hope not. I need you here. And what more could you learn at school anyway?"

"Nothing, Grandmother, absolutely nothing." Soon we receive a letter. Grandmother asks: "What does it say?"

"It says that you are responsible for us and that we must report to the school." Grandmother says:

"Burn the letter. I can't read, and you can't either. No one ever read that letter."

We burn the letter. Soon we get a second. It says that if we don't go to school, Grandmother will be punished by law. We burn that letter too. We say to Grandmother:

"Grandmother, don't forget that one of us is blind and the other deaf."

A few days later, a man turns up at our house. He says:

"I am the inspector of primary schools. You have in your house two children of compulsory school age. You have already received two warnings about this matter."

Grandmother says:

"You mean letters? I can't read. The children can't either."

One of us asks:

"Who is it? What's he saying?"

"He's asking if we can read. What's he like?"

"He's tall and looks mean."

We both shout:

"Go away! Don't hurt us! Don't kill us! Help!"

We hide under the table. The inspector asks Grandmother:

"What's the matter with them? What are they doing?"

Grandmother says:

"Oh! The poor things are afraid of everybody! They've lived through such terrible things in the Big Town. What's more, one of them is deaf and the other blind. The deaf one has to explain to the blind one what he sees, and the blind one has to explain to the deaf one what he hears. Otherwise, they don't understand anything."

Under the table, we yell:

"Help, help! It's blowing up! It's making too much noise! It's blinding my eyes!"

Grandmother explains:

"When someone frightens them, they hear things and see things that aren't there."

The inspector says:

"They have hallucinations. They should be treated in a hospital."

We yell even louder.

Grandmother says:

"Nothing could be worse! It was in a hospital that the misfortune happened. They were visiting their mother, who worked there. When the bombs fell on the hospital, they were there, they saw the wounded and the dead; they themselves were in a coma for several days."

The inspector says:

"Poor kids. Where are their parents?"

"Dead or missing. Who knows?"

"They must be a very heavy burden for you."

"What can you do? I'm all they have in the world."

Before leaving, the inspector shakes Grandmother's hand:

"You're a very brave woman."

We receive a third letter that says we are exempted from attending school because of our infirmity and our psychic trauma.

Grandmother Sells Her Vineyard

An officer comes to Grandmother's to ask her to sell her vineyard. The army wants to put up a building on her land for the frontier guards. Grandmother asks:

"And what will you pay me with? Money is worth nothmg.

The officer says:

"In exchange for your land, we'll install running water and electricity in your house." Grandmother says:

"I don't need your electricity or your running water. I've always lived without." The officer says:

"We could also take your vineyard without giving you anything in exchange. And that's what we're going to do if you don't accept our offer. The army needs your land. It is your patriotic duty to give it to us."

Grandmother opens her mouth to speak, but we intervene:

"Grandmother, you are old and tired. The vineyard gives you a lot of work and hardly brings anything in. On the other hand, the value of your house will increase a great deal with water and electricity."

The officer says:

"Your grandsons are more intelligent than you, Grandmother."

Grandmother says:

"You can say that again! So talk it over with them. Let them decide."

The officer says:

"But I need your signature."

"I'll sign whatever you like. Anyway, I can't write."

Grandmother starts to cry, gets up, and says to us:

"I'll leave it to you."

She goes off to her vineyard.

The officer says:

"Ah, she's very fond of her vineyard, the poor old woman. Well, is it a deal?"

We say:

"As you yourself have observed, that land has great sentimental value to her, and the army would certainly not want to usurp the hard-earned property of a poor old woman who, moreover, is a native of the country of our heroic Liberators."

The officer says:

"Ah, yes? She's a native . . ."

"Yes. She speaks their language perfectly. And we do too. And if you have any intention of committing an abuse . . ."

The officer says very quickly:

"No, no! What do you want?"

"In addition to the water and electricity, we want a bathroom."

"You don't say! And just where do you want this bathroom?"

We take him into our room and show him where we want our bathroom.

"Here, giving onto our room. Seven to eight square meters. Built-in bathtub, washbasin, shower, water heater, toilet."

He looks at us for a long time, then says:

"It can be done."

We say:

"We would also like a wireless set. We don't have one, and it's impossible to buy one."

He asks:

"And is that all?"

"Yes, that is all."

He bursts out laughing:

"You'll have your bathroom and your wireless. But I'd have been better off talking to your grandmother."

Grandmother's Illness

One morning, Grandmother doesn't come out of her room. We knock on her door, we call her, but she doesn't answer.

We go to the back of the house and break a pane of glass in her window so we can get into her room.

Grandmother is lying on her bed. She isn't moving. But she is breathing, and her heart is beating. One of us stays with her, the other fetches a doctor.

The doctor examines Grandmother. He says:

"Your Grandmother has had an attack of apoplexy, a cerebral hemorrhage."

"Is she going to die?"

"You can't tell. She's old, but her heart is sound. Give her these medicines three times a day. And she'll need someone to look after her."

We say:

"We'll look after her. What has to be done?"

"Feed her, wash her. She'll probably be permanently paralyzed."

The doctor leaves. We make a purée of vegetables and feed Grandmother with a small spoon. By evening, it smells very bad in her room. We lift her blankets: her straw mattress is full of excrement.

We get some straw from a peasant and buy babies' rubber pants and diapers.

We undress Grandmother, wash her in our bathtub, and make her a clean bed. She is so thin that the babies' pants fit her very well. We change her diapers several times a day.

A week later, Grandmother begins to move her hands. One morning, she greets us with a volley of insults: