This is Life (42 page)

They all hoped he would find the contentment he sought. They waved until the coach rounded a bend and he was lost from view. They all agreed that he seemed to have a new serenity about him. They
would have to make do without an interpreter for the rest of the trip, but everybody understood, and nobody complained.

Lucien settled into monastic life very quickly, and after a few weeks he found it in his heart to write to Toshiro, to ask him to visit and tell him how things were going with him and Sylvie.
Toshiro made the journey, and stayed at the monastery for the night. He spent several hours walking around the grounds with Lucien. Neither of them said very much, but Lucien was grateful to
Toshiro for travelling all that way. Toshiro told him about Sylvie starting her course, and their move into a new apartment. He waited for a good moment to tell him about the wedding, but it never
seemed to arrive. He was relieved when Lucien beat him to it. He had noticed Toshiro’s ring, and asked him about it.

Lucien offered his congratulations, and asked to see some photos.

Toshiro took out his phone, and scrolled through a few pictures from the day. The wedding had taken place on Sylvie’s trip to meet his family, and she had worn a traditional Japanese
dress. She looked so beautiful, and she and Toshiro looked overjoyed to be with one another. It was good to see Monsieur and Madame Akiyama again, too. Even Monsieur Akiyama was smiling broadly.
Akiko was in some of the photos, and she looked beautiful too, but it was Sylvie who really shone.

‘Thank you, Toshiro,’ said Lucien, handing the phone back to him.

As a parting gift he had offered Toshiro some vegetables. He explained that he spent most of his day tending the crops, and he was looking forward to the spring and summer, when he would be kept
very busy. He told him he still wasn’t entirely convinced by the religious aspect of monastic life, but the winter vegetables had been a great comfort to him.

Toshiro accepted his gift of eight parsnips and a swede, and assured Lucien that he would be back in the summer with more news from their lives. Lucien told him that the harvest would be a
little more enticing at that time of year, that he would be able to send him home with plums, courgettes and runner beans.

Toshiro told him he was looking forward to them. He said goodbye, and began the long journey back to his wife.

Le Machine emptied the jug into the big urine bottle, which he sealed for the last time. There was an incredible amount of liquid in there. Likewise, there was a deep brown
slurry in the faeces bottle. The other containers were less spectacular, but interesting nonetheless. He had scooped out no more than a raisin-size globule of earwax, his fortnightly toenail and
fingernail clippings amounted to very little, and his cold had resulted in a fairly substantial green slime in a jar. There were body hairs and skin flakes, and there was semen and sweat.

He walked up and down, looking at it all. This was what he had left behind these last twelve weeks. He could see that people were astonished and disconcerted by the thought that they too would
have left a comparable trail over the same period of time. They had been working, and sleeping, and making love, or not making love, and doing whatever else they had done, and without giving it any
particular thought they had left so much behind. Above all, though, they were amazed – by their own bodies, and by the strangeness of life.

Léandre Martin had no idea what was going to happen to him. It was too early to say whether he would ever be ready to present
Life
again, and he had butterflies whenever he thought
of Aurélie, which was all the time. He had no idea whether or not they were going to end up together, but he couldn’t wait to find out. Most of all, he just wanted to see her again, to
put his arms around her and find out what the future had in store.

He checked the time on the clock in the wings. There was one minute to go. He walked to the end of the runway. He looked around, trying to pick out Aurélie’s face from the five
hundred and thirty that were staring at him. He couldn’t see her, but just the thought that she was out there was enough for him to end his exhibition on a high. He smiled as he listened to
the sound of his body, and just as suddenly as it had started, the lights went down and the sound shut off.

Before anybody’s eyes had a chance to adjust to the darkness, Léandre Martin walked back along the runway, across the stage and into the wings. Applause thundered
through the building.

And that was the end of
Life
.

A
few kilometres away from Le Charmant Cinéma Érotique, another light went out.

Dominique Gravoir had not been well for weeks. He had caught a winter cold, which was nothing unusual, but this time it was as if he had invited it to stay. His mother held his hand. He was
thinner than he had ever been, and his breathing was so shallow it was barely perceptible. She let go of his hand, and placed her fingers on his forehead, gently rubbing it, and as she whispered
words of love, she felt the room turn cold.

She carried on rubbing his forehead, and whispering words of love. She hoped he had known how much of a difference he had made to so many lives.

‘Goodbye,’ she said. ‘Goodbye, my baby boy.’