Read Online Three Women in a Mirror by Éric-Emmanuel Schmitt, Alison Anderson - Free Book Online Page A

minute, let me sum up the situation. The press has gone wild with your misadventure, which is great. Some of the clubbers took pictures with their smartphones of you lying on the floor; fortunately, they were all so bad that the publications could only use them as insets and they had to get out the big glamour shots. Which was perfect—fantastic buzz! All the media—TV, radio, the papers, the Internet—really went to town, especially because they don’t have a clue what happened to you. Everyone knows the result—you crashed onto the dance floor at the Red and Blue—but no one knows why. They say it was an accident, but no one believes it. It’s typical: no one could care less about an accident; what’s worse, it terrifies people. What is really fascinating is when a fall turns out to be the result of a state of mind—when it’s a gesture and not just some clumsy mishap. Anything that allows others to identify with the victim: despair, a call for help, an attempted suicide.”
    â€œIt was enthusiasm! I was happy.”
    â€œYou were drunk.”
    â€œI was having a really good time—”
    â€œShush.”
    â€œJohanna, I—”
    â€œDavid told me you thought you were clinging to a vine, swinging from the footbridge into the rain-forest. I managed to hush him up—we’ll have to talk about that—because nobody needs to know details like that.”
    â€œIt’s the truth.”
    â€œThe truth is not worth a thing. What we need is a story. A good story.”
    â€œMaybe. I just wanted to let you know what really—”
    â€œAnny, your audience loves you for the story you feed them. Not for who you are.”
    Johanna had raised her voice. Anny slipped deeper into the pillows, feeling ashamed. Her agent went on berating her.
    â€œYou’re a star, damn it, not just anybody. So please, play the part, take advantage of it, take the money, reach for the glory, and don’t come whining to me because you want to be honest and resemble all the poor idiots who buy tickets to go and see you! What matters are rumors, contradictory theories, articles that keep rehashing the story, the ongoing mystery, journalists coming up with new hypotheses, former friends who testify, bloggers who add their grain of salt. Rumors are the only thing that sell. If you put an end to them, either out of a sense of loyalty or with a pretty lie, you’ll only screw things up, and cancel out all the positive benefits.”
    With Johanna’s threatening tone, Anny felt peace return: Johanna’s voice and her sound reasoning were setting her free. With authority like that she didn’t need to go on delaying; if she could see herself with those eyes, she could accept her fate.
    There was no better mirror than Johanna Fisher. Johanna had been guiding Anny since childhood, ever since
Dad, I Borrowed the Car
, her first hit, guiding her through the labyrinth of professional life, helping her avoid the ordinary missteps and dead ends, keeping her on Hollywood Boulevard. Through the years, Johanna had given her the reference points, rules, requirements, and goals that her family had failed to provide. What family, anyway? Anny was an orphan, her mother and father unknown, and she had lived with other strangers, Paul and Janet Lee. She had no illusions, she’d hardly given any legitimacy to the individuals who, through a succession of random events, she had come to call mom and dad. She bore their name, and she had submitted sweetly and fatalistically to their presence in her life, as if they were her regular co-stars in a sitcom. She had decided to love them, first of all to simplify her life—she hated conflict—and then because her nature compelled her to be friendly. Anny was nothing if not friendly toward everyone. Anyone who saw the daughter exchanging kisses with her mother or laughing out loud with her father would simply conclude that the