Chapter 35 (Marc finds Martine)
I had just gone around to the corner store to get some creamer for the next morning’s coffee, and when I let myself back in, I heard some soft groaning coming from the bathroom. I called Martine’s name, but I only heard the groaning contibut what at first looked like a crimson carpetnuing.
I hurried to the bathroom, but the door was closed. I could hear the groaning inside, and I shouted Martine’s name – but no answer. I tried the knob and it was locked, so I reared back and kicked the door, just below the knob, again and again until a splintering sound told me that I had forced my way into this awful chamber.
In the middle of the room sat Martine, and what was around her on the floor was not a growing burgundy rug but instead a pool of her own blood. Her eyes were closed, but what I noticed before that was the knife in her right hand, stained with blood all the way up the hilt to her wrist. Her stomach was a mess of gashes, and I instantly feared for her – and for our son.
My first call was to summon the ambulance; I could barely spit out the address, because the shock of beholding Martine had taken my tongue hostage. Finally, after the dispatcher had asked if she could help several times, I said, “My wife is dying. She’s pregnant. Please hurry.” I then said the address into the phone and hung up. I then punched in Sophie and Joseph’s number, and I left them a message asking them to call me immediately. By the time the paramedics came and took us away, they had not called.
My creative intention here was to represent the scene from Marc’s point of view. The story is quite compelling, but the point of view does not give a lot of insight into what Marc might have been thinking and feeling here.
Chapter 35 (Marc talks to Sophie)
It is not an easy thing to say good-bye to your wife and your unborn child, because you are saying good-bye to your present, to your future, to your reality, and to your dreams all at the same time. When you walk around the house where the three of you used to live together, everything speaks to you in their voices – even the child, although she had not entered the world. So that is why I got rid of everything. The chairs, the sofas, everything except our bed. And of course the pictures on the wall, but not just the photographs but every last work of art, they all spoke to me in ways I knew that I would not be able to stand.
So when Sophie came to help, she found that everything was already gone. I was pleased that she did not have anything to think about, anything to deal with. I expected her to be a little upset that there were no details for her to arrange, but I think in the long run she will be happy. She raged at me for taking care of her mother’s remains without her consent, but I know Martine’s remains belong back in their homeland, with her family, and I know that Sophie will understand that as well.
The problem is that the voices are still here. I slept on a cot in the living room, letting Sophie have the bed. But even with so much purged from the home, her voice – their voices – come from the walls. I worry that they really come from within me, because I don’t know how to get rid of me – or at least how to survive.
My creative intention here was to show the emotional impact of the events of the climax of the story on Marc. The story as written provides a considerable amount of insight as to the effect on Martine and Sophie.
Chapter 34 (Rena has a therapy appointment with Sophie)
When I checked my appointment calendar this morning and saw that Sophie was back on the schedule, I thought that she might be back to talk about her mother, and boy, was I right. If there ever was a messed up family, it is this multigenerational morass of shame regarding sex and pregnancy.
When Sophie came in, she looked worse than ever. She told me that her mother’s baby was speaking to her in voices – and even saying awful things to her. It was the haunted look in Sophie’s eyes that tore me apart inside, more than anything that she would say. It’s not often that I’m struck wordless, but I really didn’t know what to say.
Finally, I heard myself saying that Martine should perhaps have an exorcism. However, Sophie looked even more frightened, and then she told me that her mother would not agree to anything that would make what she feared seem even a part of our world. I wondered aloud what sort of sexual being Martine actually was, and that made Sophie burst into tears.
But then she became lucid, clearer than she had been throughout the session. She told me that she did not think Marc would want her to have the baby if he knew what was actually happening inside her, but that her constant complaining had probably dulled him to the pain that she was feeling. I asked if Marc knew how Sophie herself had been conceived, and she thought not.
Usually I can find a way to bring closure to a session, but on that day I could not. I simply could not.
The intention here was to take a look at Sophie from an ostensibly objective perspective – that of a therapist.
