It was late by the time she arrived at the hotel. She put all her things away in the cupboard including the umbrella. She kept only her money and her documents. In a few hours, she would take a taxi to the station. She would leave the way she came. The sole proof of her visit would be a handful of personal effects inside a red-and-white sports bag.
Getting off the train. A clock reads 8:30 am. She follows the other passengers heading towards the exit. She no longer knows if she has gone away, or if she has been travelling for several years. In the main hall of the gare du Nord, nothing has really changed. But her perception of things isn’t quite the same: the proportions of the setting seem to have been modified, the extras have been replaced to look even more like one another. Most of all, she has the impression that she hears herself talking all around.
When she catches sight of him at the foot of the stairs, she has to grip the handrail to continue going down, her body reduced to a pair of eyes atop a swelling heart. She looks down at the steps and begins to count them. When there are none left to count, she looks up. He’s there, in the flesh, his lips pursed, his eyes fixed on her.
Ange is pregnant.
She feels the slapped skin beneath her hand. She realizes that she has just hit him. Hard enough to knock his head back. He is speechless, he doesn’t move. She sees the red marks left by her fingers. She likes the way it looks. She turns her back on him and starts to walk away like a robot, heading in the direction of her office.
She settles down at her desk. In front of her is the text of the day’s first announcement. She leans in to the microphone and starts to talk.
Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to announce that all departures have been cancelled. No trains are running. There’s no point in looking at the person next to you, he’s not responsible. I’m the one who made this decision for personal reasons. The details would take far too long to explain. I therefore suggest two things that in my opinion would be in your best interest: either go home or stay here with me in this austere train station. Let me tell you; you will find nothing at the end of those tracks, I’ve been there, I’ve just come back, and believe me, I know what I’m talking about. You’ll find nothing but yourselves, the same as here. So you might as well spare yourselves the trouble and stay. And, if I could offer a piece of advice: try to talk to one another. It won’t make a big difference, but it might bring some relief.
She feels herself being pulled backwards. An enormous hand is gripping her arm. Mr. Merlinter is red in the face, and she becomes aware of the total silence in the room. You’re completely nuts, get out. She looks him straight in the eye, and then all of a sudden, in front of her stunned co-workers, laughter takes hold of her, a real full-throated roar of laughter, rising up from her belly, irresistible, out of control. And as she is led outside, she is still laughing.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR AND THE TRANSLATOR
CÉLINE CURIOL is a journalist who has worked for various French media, including Libération, Radio France, and BBC Afrique. Her second novel and a travel book on Sierra Leone have recently been published in France. Originally from Lyon, Curiol lives in New York City, where she is at work on her third novel.
One of the titans of contemporary American Letters, novelist, memoirist, essayist, screenwriter, and film director PAUL AUSTER is the author of City of Glass (of the New York Trilogy novels), The Brooklyn Follies, and Moon Palace, among other works.