6
I had a hard time waking up on Sunday, and Marie had
to call me and shake me. We didn’t eat anything, because we wanted to get to the beach early. I felt completely drained and I had a slight headache. My cigarette
tasted bitter. Marie made fun of me because, she said,
I had on a “funeral face.” She had put on a white
linen dress and let her hair down. I told her she was
beautiful and she laughed with delight.
On our way downstairs we knocked on Raymond’s
door. He told us he’d be right down. Once out in the
street, because I was so tired and also because we hadn’t
opened the blinds, the day, already bright with sun, hit
me like a slap in the face. Marie was jumping with joy
and kept on saying what a beautiful day it was. I felt a
little better and I noticed that I was hungry. I told Marie,
who pointed to her oilcloth bag where she’d put our bathing suits and a towel. I just had to wait and then we
heard Raymond shutting his door. He had on blue
trousers and a white short-sleeved shirt. But he’d put on
a straw hat, which made Marie laugh, and his forearms
were all white under the black hairs. I found it a little
repulsive. He was whistling as he came down the stairs
and he seemed very cheerful. He said “Good morning,
old man” to me and called Marie “mademoiselle.”
The day before, we’d gone to the police station
and I’d testified that the girl had cheated on Raymond.
He’d gotten off with a warning. They didn’t check out
my statement. Outside the front door we talked about
it with Raymond, and then we decided to take the bus.
The beach wasn’t very far, but we’d get there sooner
that way. Raymond thought his friend would be glad
to see us get there early. We were just about to leave
when all of a sudden Raymond motioned to me to look
across the street. I saw a group of Arabs leaning against
the front of the tobacconist’s shop. They were staring at
us in silence, but in that way of theirs, as if we were
nothing but stones or dead trees. Raymond told me that
the second one from the left was his man, and he seemed
worried. But, he added, it was all settled now. Marie
didn’t really understand and asked us what was wrong.
I told her that they were Arabs who had it in for Raymond. She wanted to get going right away. Raymond
drew himself up and laughed, saying we’d better step
on it.
We headed toward the bus stop, which wasn’t far,
and Raymond said that the Arabs weren’t following us.
I turned around. They were still in the same place and
they were looking with the same indifference at the spot
where we’d just been standing. We caught the bus.
Raymond, who seemed very relieved, kept on cracking jokes for Marie. I could tell he liked her, but she hardly
said anything to him. Every once in a while she’d look at
him and laugh.
We got off in the outskirts of Algiers. The beach
wasn’t far from the bus stop. But we had to cross a small
plateau which overlooks the sea and then drops steeply
down to the beach. It was covered with yellowish rocks
and the whitest asphodels set against the already hard
blue of the sky. Marie was having fun scattering the
petals, taking big swipes at them with her oilcloth bag.
We walked between rows of small houses behind green
or white fences, some with their verandas hidden behind the tamarisks, others standing naked among the
rocks. Before we reached the edge of the plateau, we
could already see the motionless sea and, farther out, a
massive, drowsy-looking promontory in the clear water.
The faint hum of a motor rose up to us in the still air.
And way off, we saw a tiny trawler moving, almost imperceptibly, across the dazzling sea. Marie gathered
some rock irises. From the slope leading down to the
beach, we could see that there were already some people
swimming.
Raymond’s friend lived in a little wooden bungalow
at the far end of the beach. The back of the house
rested up against the rocks, and the pilings that held it
up in front went straight down into the water. Raymond
introduced us. His friend’s name was Masson. He was a
big guy, very tall and broad-shouldered, with a plump,
sweet little wife with a Parisian accent. Right off he told us to make ourselves at horne and said that his wife had
just fried up some fish he’d caught that morning. I told
him how nice I thought his house was. He told me that
he spent Saturdays and Sundays and all his days off
there. “With my wife, of course,” he added. Just then
his wife was laughing with Marie. For the first time
maybe, I really thought I was going to get married.
Masson wanted to go for a swim, but his wife and
Raymond didn’t want to come. The three of us went
down to the beach and Marie jumped right in. Masson
and I waited a little. He spoke slowly, and I noticed
that he had a habit of finishing everything he said with
“and I’d even say,” when really it didn’t add anything to
the meaning of his sentence. Referring to Marie, he
said, “She’s stunning, and I’d even say charming.” After
that I didn’t pay any more attention to this mannerism
of his, because I was absorbed by the feeling that the
sun was doing me a lot of good. The sand was starting
to get hot underfoot. I held back the urge to get into the
water a minute longer, but finally I said to Masson ,
“Shall we?” I dove in. He waded in slowly and started
swimming only when he couldn’t touch bottom anymore.
He did the breast stroke, and not too well, either, so I
left him and joined Marie. The water was cold and I was
glad to be swimming. Together again, Marie and I
swam out a ways, and we felt a closeness as we moved
in unison and were happy.
Out in deeper water we floated on our backs and
the sun on my upturned face was drying the last of the water trickling into my mouth. We saw Masson making
his way back to the beach to stretch out in the sun.
From far away he looked huge. Marie wanted us to
swim together. I got behind her to hold her around
the waist. She used her arms to move us forward and
I did the kicking. The little splashing sound followed
us through the morning air until I got tired. I left
Marie and headed back, swimming smoothly and breathing easily. On the beach I stretched out on my stomach
alongside Masson and put my face on the sand. I said
it was nice and he agreed. Soon afterwards Marie came
back. I rolled over to watch her coming. She was
glistening all over with salty water and holding her hair
back. She lay down right next to me and the combined
warmth from her body and from the sun made me doze
off.
Marie shook me and told me that Masson had gone
back up to the house, that it was time for lunch. I got
up right away because I was hungry, but Marie told me
I hadn’t kissed her since that morning. It was true,
and yet I had wanted to. “Come into the water,” she said.
We ran and threw ourselves into the first little waves.
We swam a few strokes and she reached out and held
on to me. I felt her legs wrapped around mine and I
wanted her.
When we got back, Masson was already calling us.
I said I was starving and then out of the blue he announced to his wife that he liked me. The bread was
good; I devoured my share of the fish. After that there was some meat and fried potatoes. We all ate without
talking. Masson drank a lot of wine and kept filling my
glass. By the time the coffee carne, my head felt heavy
and I smoked a lot. Masson, Raymond, and I talked
about spending August together at the beach, sharing
expenses. Suddenly Marie said, “Do you know what
time it is? It’s only eleven-thirty!” We were all surprised, but Masson said that we’d eaten very early and
that it was only natural because lunchtime was whenever you were hungry. For some reason that made Marie
laugh. I think she’d had a little too much to drink.
Then Masson asked me if I wanted to go for a walk on
the beach with him. “My wife always takes a nap after
lunch. Me, I don’t like naps. I need to walk. I tell her all
the time it’s better for her health. But it’s her business.”
Marie said she’d stay and help Madame Masson with
the dishes. The little Parisienne said that first they’d have
to get rid of the men. The three of us went down to the
beach.