good night’s sleep is now over. A disturbance of a minute would be okay, might still enable her to go back to sleep, but a whole conversation? Her body may be exhausted, her eyes fighting to stay open, but she is experienced enough to know that her mind is now alert; there will be no more sleep tonight.
It is the scourge of middle age. Angie has taken Ambien for years; Laura, terrified of medication, can’t see anyone before 10 A.M. , too groggy from the Tylenol PM she has taken every night since her children were born.
The nights she doesn’t sleep, Sylvie gets up, gets things done. She wasted too many nights lying in bed, willing herself to go back to sleep, thoughts flying through her head as she refused to push back the covers, refused to set foot on the floor, in case, by some miracle, she fell back to sleep.
Which never happened.
Now, she gets up.
By the time Eve needs to get up for school at 6 A.M. , Sylvie will have made breakfast, paid bills, organized files, baked a cake, and managed to research whatever her obsession of the moment is, for a couple of hours online.
It’s not so bad, Sylvie thinks, tuning back in to Clothilde. “… and where are my pearls, Sylvie? The black ones. I know I had them here and they were in the bathroom, and now they are missing.”
“I don’t remember you having the pearls there. I think they may be in the safe with the rest of your jewelry. I didn’t bring them in.”
“Not you. Mark brought them. Or Eve. I don’t know, someone! But now they are not here.”
Sylvie’s heart sinks, for this is a regular occurrence, Clothilde deciding some piece of jewelry is missing, making the accusation before anyone has even had a chance to check.
“It’s that new nurse. She was admiring my bracelet the other day, and I saw the sly look in her eye.”
“Which new nurse? Nancy?” Sylvie almost laughed. “The sweet, quiet one?”
“There’s nothing sweet or quiet about her. She’s a thief. I’m going to talk to the director this morning.”
“Mom, don’t. Wait. Let me look for you. They might be here.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Of course I do,” Sylvie soothes. “But if Mark brought them to you, perhaps he brought them home? Let me just check.”
There is a silence, then a harrumph. “ Ça va. What time will you come?”
“Around three.”
“Maybe this time you’ll actually stay? You’re never here for longer than about five minutes.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Sylvie forces. “I will try to stay a bit longer today. Eve has a softball game this afternoon, though. I promised her I’d be there because I’ve missed the last two.”
“You can tell her she needs to come see her grand-mère. She hasn’t been here for weeks.”
“No, Mom. She came with me two days ago, remember? You wanted the moisturizer and magazines? Eve did your nails? Remember?”
“That was two days ago?” Clothilde is surprised, although this lapse in spatial awareness, time awareness, happens regularly.
“Yes.”
“Still. She doesn’t come to see me enough. Here I am, with this terrible life, in this terrible taudis, and no one comes to see me. I’m stuck here alone all day, with no family, and no friends. I don’t have anyone I can talk to, and no one cares how lonely I am. If you weren’t so selfish, you’d be here looking after me, making sure I’m not lonely.”
Sylvie takes a deep breath. I won’t react, she tells herself. I won’t take the bait.
“What about all the classes, Mom? There are activities all day that are really interesting. Last week they were doing découpage, remember? We went together, but you refused to do it.”
“I did?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Around two.”
“Don’t be late.” There is an audible click as Clothilde rings off.
Mark is fast asleep when Sylvie peeks round the bedroom door. There is no point climbing back into bed beside him, spending the next three hours thinking about nothing and
It is the scourge of middle age. Angie has taken Ambien for years; Laura, terrified of medication, can’t see anyone before 10 A.M. , too groggy from the Tylenol PM she has taken every night since her children were born.
The nights she doesn’t sleep, Sylvie gets up, gets things done. She wasted too many nights lying in bed, willing herself to go back to sleep, thoughts flying through her head as she refused to push back the covers, refused to set foot on the floor, in case, by some miracle, she fell back to sleep.
Which never happened.
Now, she gets up.
By the time Eve needs to get up for school at 6 A.M. , Sylvie will have made breakfast, paid bills, organized files, baked a cake, and managed to research whatever her obsession of the moment is, for a couple of hours online.
It’s not so bad, Sylvie thinks, tuning back in to Clothilde. “… and where are my pearls, Sylvie? The black ones. I know I had them here and they were in the bathroom, and now they are missing.”
“I don’t remember you having the pearls there. I think they may be in the safe with the rest of your jewelry. I didn’t bring them in.”
“Not you. Mark brought them. Or Eve. I don’t know, someone! But now they are not here.”
Sylvie’s heart sinks, for this is a regular occurrence, Clothilde deciding some piece of jewelry is missing, making the accusation before anyone has even had a chance to check.
“It’s that new nurse. She was admiring my bracelet the other day, and I saw the sly look in her eye.”
“Which new nurse? Nancy?” Sylvie almost laughed. “The sweet, quiet one?”
“There’s nothing sweet or quiet about her. She’s a thief. I’m going to talk to the director this morning.”
“Mom, don’t. Wait. Let me look for you. They might be here.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Of course I do,” Sylvie soothes. “But if Mark brought them to you, perhaps he brought them home? Let me just check.”
There is a silence, then a harrumph. “ Ça va. What time will you come?”
“Around three.”
“Maybe this time you’ll actually stay? You’re never here for longer than about five minutes.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Sylvie forces. “I will try to stay a bit longer today. Eve has a softball game this afternoon, though. I promised her I’d be there because I’ve missed the last two.”
“You can tell her she needs to come see her grand-mère. She hasn’t been here for weeks.”
“No, Mom. She came with me two days ago, remember? You wanted the moisturizer and magazines? Eve did your nails? Remember?”
“That was two days ago?” Clothilde is surprised, although this lapse in spatial awareness, time awareness, happens regularly.
“Yes.”
“Still. She doesn’t come to see me enough. Here I am, with this terrible life, in this terrible taudis, and no one comes to see me. I’m stuck here alone all day, with no family, and no friends. I don’t have anyone I can talk to, and no one cares how lonely I am. If you weren’t so selfish, you’d be here looking after me, making sure I’m not lonely.”
Sylvie takes a deep breath. I won’t react, she tells herself. I won’t take the bait.
“What about all the classes, Mom? There are activities all day that are really interesting. Last week they were doing découpage, remember? We went together, but you refused to do it.”
“I did?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Around two.”
“Don’t be late.” There is an audible click as Clothilde rings off.
Mark is fast asleep when Sylvie peeks round the bedroom door. There is no point climbing back into bed beside him, spending the next three hours thinking about nothing and
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