Against God (5 page)

- It’s . . . terrible what happened over there, I know, sir, but . . . What do
you want me to do?

pitiful, and you, hearing those words, you nod, you

- You’re right there . . . Anyways, your indifference is probably the best way to
tell him to bugger off . . .

mutter slowly, and the driver, hearing you, asks who you mean, but you don’t
answer, the driver says he has no idea what you’re talking about, insists he is
not at all indifferent to the plight of his people, you just stare outside in
silence, gently massaging your sore ribs, ten minutes, you’ve arrived, back in
yesterday’s working-class neighbourhood, you recognize Le Losange two blocks
away, you’re across from a five-storey building, a sign on the door reads
“Apartments for Rent, Contact Suite 1,” you walk inside, a list of tenants with
a mail slot by each
name, no buzzers, you go to the inside
door and give a push, it isn’t locked, you check your piece of paper, go up
three flights, door 7, you knock, no answer, you sit down on the floor for a
minute then, you lean against the wall, you think, finally you get to your feet,
take the stairs down, out on the sidewalk you look around, weary, worn-out, you
read the sign on the door a second time, then you go back into the building,
over to door number one, knock, a woman in her thirties with furrowed skin and a
rasping voice, she’s the landlady, there are two apartments for rent, a
semi-furnished two-bedroom for the year and a furnished one-bedroom by the
month, you visit the one bedroom on the third floor, rickety furniture, grimy
oven and fridge, misshapen mattress, creaking bed, you say it’s perfect, you
take it then and there for a month, five hundred dollars, you pay cash, then you
stock up at the supermarket, canned goods, frozen fries, mounds of chips, a case
of beer, everything for two hundred and fifty dollars, back to your apartment,
you put the food away in the freezer and in the cupboards with their peeling
paint, you remove your suit jacket, you open a beer, take a few swigs as you lie
down on your bed, then you drop off almost immediately, shifting dreams of your
children and wife falling into nothingness, the sound of footsteps on the stairs
awakens you, six thirty, your beer has spilled onto the floor, you go to the
door, you look through the peephole, you recognize Mélanie climbing the stairs,
you hesitate for a second then you step out, you greet her, she stops halfway,
she
recognizes you, she’s stunned, she’s happy, even
reassured, she comes down to you and explains that, as it happens, she’s just
come from Le Maquis where she hoped to see you again, then she asks what you’re
doing in that apartment, you tell her, again she’s surprised, you explain that
you’ll never go back to your house, just as you’ll never go back to Le Maquis,
she nods her head gravely, silence, then Mélanie smiles, says again how glad she
is to see you, on impulse she invites you over for dinner at her place, just
like that, you accept indifferently, almost absentmindedly, she needs to get
ready, you may come up in an hour’s time, finally you notice that her jeans are
old and paint-spattered and that her face sports a few yellow spots as well, you
return to the apartment, head for the bathroom and peer at yourself in the
mirror, your white shirt, your black pants, your three-day stubble, your unkempt
hair, you eye the shower, thoughtful, then in the end you leave the room, open a
beer and drink it sitting on the couch, you do nothing, you wait, seven thirty,
you go up to the fourth floor, Mélanie has had a shower, Mélanie is wearing
clean clothes, Mélanie is cooking pasta, you scan the apartment vacantly,
threadbare furniture, simple decorations, three movie posters on the walls,
Titanic, Pretty Woman, Amélie,
she asks if you would like something
to drink, yes, a beer, she brings you one, you both have a seat in the living
room, you’re surprised she’s not drinking but she shakes her head, evasive,
maybe later, she notices the small bruise on your cheek, asks you what happened,
you say it’s nothing, silence, the
bubbling of the pasta
cooking, you look around, two generic paintings, framed and sitting on the floor
in a corner, Mélanie follows your gaze, she clucks, she says she’s been wanting
to hang them for weeks now and always comes up with some reason not to, you
don’t respond, silence, Mélanie doesn’t take her eyes off you, as though
expecting something, you rub your nose, you set your empty bottle down on the
table then, you stand up then, you take two steps then in the direction of the
door intending to leave, but Mélanie chooses that moment to return to her stove
and cry out with exaggerated enthusiasm that it’s ready, so you take a seat
almost reluctantly at the table, you both eat, spaghetti and meat sauce, you
make no comment about the food, Mélanie apologizes for not having any wine,
silence, then you state, your mouth full, that you don’t know why you accepted
her invitation, she isn’t upset by your comment, she even seems happy with the
turn the conversation has taken, she swallows her food before

- Because you know we can help each other . . .

answering, your face twitches in annoyance, you race through the meal, you say
that’s not it at all, you’re only here because you want to sleep with her, I
know you’re just trying to provoke her, shock her, but her lips stretch into a
sad smile, her fork twisting the spaghetti, a couple of bites, not a hint of
irony or

- You don’t wanna go back to your store, you don’t wanna go back home . . . Just
erase it all, is that it? You
don’t want a single tie left to
your old life . . . You think that’s the answer?

accusation in her voice, so you ask her point blank if she’s done this often,
hung around bars to pick up poor wretches in the hope of helping them, this time
your words seem to affect her, this time she looks down, says no, it’s just that
she, too, is suffering, she reminds you that you yourself could tell as much
last night, she has experienced great misfortune and it has opened her eyes to
all kinds of things, to people, all of a sudden you start to panic, you
interrupt her, you raise your hand, you warn her that you don’t want to know
what happened to her, other people’s misfortunes don’t interest you, you haven’t
asked her for a single thing, but Mélanie isn’t offended, she nods,
understanding, she clarifies, choosing her words

- Me either, I don’t want to hear your story, but one thing’s for sure,
misfortune brings us together, we can help each other. I’ve already started to
help myself. You know what I did today?

carefully, but you jump to your feet, remind her that you’re not interested,
thank her brusquely for supper, head for the door, then it’s Mélanie’s turn to
get up, a tad concerned, she wants to know what your plans are for the evening,
you say you’re going to a bar, she wrings her hands, suddenly timid, she asks if
she can go along, you look undecided, say you don’t know, that you want to find
someone to fuck, her or someone else, more provocation, you detect pity in her
eyes, she says she understands, she understands your attitude,
she understands that you’re still angry, but you shake your head with a
sardonic grimace, tell her it’s not anger, tell her it’s worse, silence, she
says again that she has no desire to sleep with you but she wants to be with
you, you tell her you’re leaving right now, she pulls on her coat, the two of
you step outside, it’s really cold out now, you walk toward Le Losange but
Mélanie doesn’t want to go there, she’d rather be someplace where no one knows
her, Mélanie would rather remain anonymous, you shrug, indifferent, you tell her
you don’t have a car anymore, she doesn’t ask any questions and offers to take
hers, you climb into her little green Honda Civic, you stare outside in silence,
the other cars, the shop windows, but above all the people, your eyes follow
them for a long time, you want to go to a nightclub, Mélanie doesn’t much feel
like dancing, you point out curtly that she shouldn’t bother following you then,
end of story, she stays quiet for a moment, says she knows a club that’s popular
with people other than teens, fifteen minutes, stop, then into the dark
establishment, blaring rock music, not many people yet, a deserted dance floor,
head for the bar, you order a beer without asking Mélanie what she would like,
she orders the same, a few sips in silence, the bass makes the floor vibrate,
the other patrons are in their thirties or late twenties, thirty minutes,
already four beers downed, you start feeling drunk, a 90s hit sweeps through the
room, you want to dance then, you practically order Mélanie to follow you, she
complies showing neither pleasure or displeasure, you both end up on the dance
floor, and
you shimmy, and you shake, and you play air guitar,
Mélanie’s dancing is more restrained, she watches you with a sad gentle smile,
three other dancers join you on the dance floor, two women and a man, all a bit
younger than you, and you wave your arms wildly, and you close your eyes, and
you don’t open them even once in fifteen minutes, until Mélanie whispers in your
ear that she’s going back to sit at the bar, your chance to look around, more
people than before, five dancers on the dance floor, and you dance even harder,
and you close your eyes again, and you thrash about for another thirty minutes,
finally exhaustion sets in, you’re winded, you stop, your hands on your thighs,
deep breaths, hair pasted to your forehead with sweat, drenched shirt, now there
are over a dozen dancers surrounding you, including a girl, early thirties,
cute, a good dancer, you sidle over and literally shout that you’d love to sleep
with her, she stares, gives an incredulous laugh then turns her back on you, but
you insist, but you take her arm, but you ask her what she has to say, and she
wants you to leave her alone, she wants you to let go, she wants to get away,
and the guy with her finally steps in, he asks you what you think you’re up to,
you explain that all you want is to screw his friend, but the guy doesn’t find
it funny, the guy stares you down, the guy orders you to back off, and you
confront him full of

- It’s gotta be fifteen years since my last fight, but I’m sure it’ll all come
back to me in no time! I gotta say, I like the idea!

arrogance, the guy looks puzzled then, he must think he
couldn’t win against you, you’re smaller than he is but more built, so he gives
a nervous laugh instead then turns his back on you, but you grab his shoulder,
but you jerk him round to face you, but you punch him in the nose, and the guy
reels, loses his balance, falls to the floor, confusion among the dancers, the
girl’s cries, your right foot connecting with the guy’s ribs, your foot raised
for a second go, but arms pull you back, Mélanie’s arms, Mélanie telling you to
stop, but you push her away, kick him twice more as he lies moaning on the
floor, then you stop, you moisten your lips convulsively, the patrons circling
you, worried hostile expressions, the girl sobbing hysterically, two customers
head toward you with fire in their eyes, their intentions couldn’t be clearer,
but Mélanie grabs your arm again, tells you you’ve got to leave right away, you
walk to the exit then, outside, you pace back and forth snickering, Mélanie
appears a minute later, she’s got your coat, you put it on, open wide your arms
as you breathe in the cold night air, literally

- Damn! How did I go without that for so long!

exulting, Mélanie tells you your attitude leads nowhere but you cut her off
roughly, nothing happened to you so she can stop her lecturing, Mélanie sighs,
Mélanie runs a hand through her hair, Mélanie says she’s going home, and you
retort that she can do whatever the fuck she wants, you’re going to another
club, you start walking,
you hear her behind you begging you
not to do anything stupid, so you turn and your cries engulf the

- What does that mean?! Nothing!

dark street, you stride off, Mélanie’s voice still behind you telling you that
tomorrow morning she’s going someplace, she’d like you to go with her, she could
pick you up at nine, but you don’t say a word, you keep walking with the
confidence of a soldier entering conquered territory, your coat undone,
impervious to the biting cold, you pass several bars but it’s a nightclub you
want, finally you find one, step inside, leave your coat at the coat check, an
almost full room, the average age around twenty-two, several people look at you
like you’re a dinosaur, you couldn’t care less, you even return their gaze with
an arrogance of your own, you head for the bar, one beer, then another, lots of
pretty young girls, fifteen minutes during which you drink and watch, then you
zero in on a girl, over there, on the dance floor, twenty-three tops, not
particularly beautiful, a bit plump, but the way she dances, but the sway of her
hips, but her sensual gaze, you cannot take your eyes off her, over the next ten
minutes two twenty-year-olds sidle up to her, and she brushes them off jeering,
she keeps dancing alone, undulating her pelvis suggestively, you order a shooter
then, down it and head onto the dance floor, next to her, you dance up close,
the girl notices, the girl looks surprised, the girl smiles, then she turns her
back, not to ignore you but to thrust her butt toward your pelvis, rubbing
languorously, your hands on her hips, moving
as one, she looks
at you over her shoulder, flashing a knowing smile, she turns to face you,
places both arms on your shoulders, you exchange a few words as you dance, you
learn her name is Andréane, she comes here occasionally but generally speaking
guys her age don’t interest her, all of a sudden you kiss her full on the lips,
she stiffens for a fraction of a second, then laughs, grinds her hips against
yours, the two of you keep grinding and dancing for twenty minutes, music,
lights, sweat, desire, then she murmurs in your ear that she has to work
tomorrow morning, she has to go home early, you say you’ll see her home, she
giggles, whispers that you certainly don’t waste any time, less than thirty
minutes later you enter her apartment together, you’re so drunk you’re reeling,
she leads you by the hand to her bedroom, a small bedside lamp sheds subdued
light, a clock reads shortly after midnight, a boxspring and mattress lie on the
floor, a desk strewn with paper, a small glass table covered in glass
knick-knacks, you kiss, excitement rising, clothes falling to the floor, fully
nude, you have an incredible erection, you both topple onto the mattress, you
caress her, you pant, but you get to your feet, say you need to visit the
bathroom, that it will only take a minute, Andréane laughs as you cross the
apartment in the dark, you find the bathroom, have trouble urinating because of
your erection, then hurry back to the bedroom, you walk over to the mattress on
which Andréane still reclines, Andréane reaches for a drawer, Andréane pulls
something out of the drawer, a condom, it’s a condom, and the sight of the
rubber
stops you in your tracks, you stand by the mattress,
confounded, then you spit out that there is no way you’re using that, she
frowns, put off by your reaction, but she gives a nervous laugh to try to defuse
the situation, says she may be young but she’s not reckless, you assure her that
you’re “safe,” that you’ve been sleeping with the same woman for nine years,
but she won’t budge, she’s not willing to take the slightest risk, she’s still
smiling but her impatience is starting to show, she makes as though to rip open
the envelope but you lean over, tear it from her hands and throw it at