Free Heading South by Dany Laferrière

.”
    â€œWait, I know that name . . . Isn’t she the ambassador’s daughter?”
    â€œHis niece.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œShe was here, just before you walked in.”
    â€œAh, my friend, you’re playing in the big leagues.”
    Fanfan pushes Charlie until he falls back on the bed.
    â€œListen, Fanfan, you haven’t understood what I’m saying.”
    â€œYou’re going to tell me what it’s like to pork a rich girl!” Silence.
    â€œNo, Fanfan, she just dropped by to tell me that we’re from two different worlds.”
    â€œIn her eyes you’re nothing but a dog.”
    â€œThat’s it.”
    Longer silence.
    â€œI’ve got to go, my friend . . . Don’t worry about your money. I’ll have it here Monday without fail.”
    Fanfan misses a step on the stairway.
    â€œShit! Shit! Shit! And shit!”
    TWO DAYS LATER. Two o’clock in the afternoon.
    Charlie climbs heavily up the steep stairs to his room. Missie is waiting for him at the top.
    â€œHave you been here long?”
    She gives him a beseeching look.
    â€œDid Hansy drop you off?”
    â€œI took a taxi.”
    He opens the door and lets her go in first. She enters and sits on the only chair. Charlie remains standing. She sits there without saying a word. Then suddenly she jumps up.
    â€œGoodbye.”
    She races down the stairs at the risk of breaking her neck. He listens for a moment, hoping she’ll reach the bottom in one piece. Then he sits in the chair she has vacated, and waits.
    He waits.
    Two hours go by. She comes back. He hears her feathery tread on the stairs. He tells himself that her feet would do well to get used to climbing those stairs, because they’re going to be climbing it many times a day from now on. A small knock at the door.
    â€œIt’s open.”
    She comes in. He doesn’t get up.
    She stands in the middle of the room. He looks at her tranquilly.
    â€œI can’t do it anymore.”
    He keeps looking at her.
    â€œI want . . .”
    She stops, thunderstruck. A fierce storm appears to be raging in her head. He waits, silently.
    â€œI want . . .”
    She stops again.
    â€œI want . . .”
    Her knees buckle slightly.
    â€œThe other day you said, you said . . .”
    â€œWhat did I say?”
    A moment’s hesitation. But she recovers. He has the feeling she may get away from him. Then she lowers her head.
    â€œYou said that you’ll . . . make me . . . moan . . .”
    Charlies says nothing.
    â€œI don’t know why,” she goes on, “but since then I’ve been able to think of nothing else . . .”
    He decides not to have her today. She is suffering, but her pain is her pleasure.
    WEDNESDAY MORNING. As usual, he finds the gate open. His mother is peeling potatoes in the kitchen, which is clean and well lit. He sneaks up silently behind her back. She is singing “The Red Roses of Corfu.” Her happiness song. The one she sings when she’s happy.
    â€œOh, it’s you,” she says without turning around.
    â€œHow are things?”
    â€œVery good, my dear.”
    â€œAnd Papa?”
    â€œYour father is very excited because he planted some birds of paradise; you know how difficult it is to get them to grow . . . Well, yesterday he called me out into the garden, where as you know I hate to go because of the anole lizards, to see their magnificent flowers. They really do look like birds. Even the Ambassador was impressed.”
    â€œAnd Mademoiselle Abel?”
    His mother looks at him in astonishment.
    â€œWhy are you asking about her?”
    â€œShe and Papa weren’t getting along, and, if I remember correctly, you were pretty worried about it.”
    â€œOh, we hardly ever see her anymore. First she was always underfoot, now she doesn’t even come home for dinner. And when she is here, she shuts herself up in her room.”
    â€œAnd that