Out of Sorts by Aurélie Valognes Page B

are you doing here?” or “I’ll come by later” or even “sorry about my father . . .” But the door slams in Ferdinand’s face, so he doesn’t hear Antoine pick up the phone to call the police station.

Chapter Twenty-Three
    Like a Ton of Bricks
    There are days when nothing happens normally. Ferdinand will never forget that particular Friday.
    Arm in a sling, and in spite of the formal ban on seeing that “sexual maniac” again, Juliette shows up at Ferdinand’s door at 8:00 a.m., before going to school. On the doorstep, the little girl explains she had a fight with a boy in her class, Matteo Balard.
    This “little nobody,” as she calls him, dared to tell her that a woman’s role is to be at home, waiting for her husband and catering to her children’s every whim. According to him, only bad mothers work, the ones who don’t love their children, and they usually end up running away from home. His father, Commissioner Balard, told him so, and the commissioner is always right. So a woman reporter, like Juliette’s mother, boggles Matteo’s mind. She must have problems at home to prefer going off to the other side of the world, to those war-torn countries. Not to mention her children, who must hate her. And the lovers she must have in every foreign city. A real slut, probably!
    So Juliette had shoved Matteo and demanded he take back what he’d just said. The kid then spat in her face, grabbed her by the arm, and twisted it with all his might, until Juliette found herself on the ground, hunched in pain.
    When Juliette finishes her story, the old man already knows he won’t be able to let this stand.

Chapter Twenty-Four
    Blowing a Gasket
    Juliette has been at school for twenty minutes when Ferdinand hears the usual Friday morning grumbling of Mrs. Suarez, who is trying to carry the new vacuum cleaner—bagless but twice as heavy—to the top floor. Friday is sacred: dust must be eradicated before the weekend family visits. Mrs. Suarez loves to show off the perfectly maintained complex. Ferdinand, wanting to score some points before the next inspection, decides to lend a hand.
    “Hello, Mrs. Suarez, you’re looking lovely today. Is your skirt made of real crocodile?”
    “Stand back. Can’t you see you’re in the way? This vacuum is heavy and I still have one more floor to go. Also, I can smell your cigar in the carpet fibers again. Are you doing it on purpose or what?”
    “Let me help you, Mrs. Suarez. I can take a load off you and carry it to the top floor. It’s no trouble. Give it here, you’re going to break your back.”
    “Let go of that! Stop pulling . . . You’re hurting me. I don’t want your help, or your hypocrisy. I can’t take any more of you! What would really take a load off me is seeing you leave. Fortunately, we’ll soon be rid of you. For good!”
    “With all due respect, Mrs. Suarez, don’t get your hopes up. My daughter is a very wise woman. She asked me to make an effort, I have done so, and will continue to do so. Then she’ll leave me alone about that retirement home. She keeps her word. She’s a diplomat!”
    “Poor old man, you understand nothing. You think you have control over your fate, but it escaped you months ago, while you still desperately cling to your pathetic little life. But it’s over. This is the end for you!”
    “You think you can scare me with so much hot air. Marion is a smart girl. She gets that from her father, you know!”
    “Smart, maybe, but gullible, and easily manipulated. I can assure you! The poor little thing, so far away, and so worried. It’s a good thing she has me to tell her the truth.”
    “What truth?”
    “That you’re making absolutely no effort! Your dental hygiene is deplorable—your toothbrush is at least ten years old. Your apartment is a dump and smells musty. Your food is worse than in the third world. I saw all the expired cans of preserves you ate and threw in the trash. With regard to friendliness, try again.