The Last Life by Claire Messud

Author:Claire Messud [Messud, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780151005369
Publisher: Harcourt Brace & Company
Published: 1999-03-15T04:00:00+00:00

Part Five

1

The trial lasted another day and a half. My grandfather didn't mention to my parents that he had seen me; nor did he broach the subject with me. It made me wonder about that summer night, the night of the crime; and I became convinced that my grandfather, with some inner sense, had seen me then, too. That secret night, with its cool smell of greenery and the lemon scent of Thibaud, the spit of gravel on my back and the soughing sea—I felt as though my grandfather had recognized me there, and that in some way we shared that night's guilt and treachery. If I could forgive him his sin, perhaps he could absolve me of mine. It would be our shared secret.

Thinking this, I felt the warmth run between us again like a current, and I allowed myself to worry about him and his fate. I, who had come home, skipped lunch and changed my clothes, had lain on my bed to read my philosophy books until dinnertime, dozing over them because they were too difficult, almost wondered whether the morning's outing had been only a vivid daydream. My mother returned alone at around six, saying that my father had gone on to the Bellevue, with his parents, to see about some business.

"How'd it go?"

"Fine—I think. Who knows? Your father thought it went well. Your grandfather gave his account, you know, and what with procedure, that took up a lot of time. Then they started with the witnesses—the girl from Paris, first, and then her parents—"

"They weren't even there. What do they know?"

My mother looked surprised. "It's standard. They spoke about the hotel, and your group of friends, the way you kids all hang together—"

"They're not my friends."

My mother shrugged. "More tomorrow. Marie-José tomorrow, I expect."

"Hm."

"Your poor grandfather. I know I've had my ups and downs with him, but if you could've seen him up there—"

"I know."

"You don't, though. You can't imagine. This has broken him. And when you think about it, the life he's had and all he's been through, and still, all he's accomplished ... and now this..." She sighed. "It's no way for a man to be, at his age."

"You don't think they'll send him to prison?"

"What do I know, poupette? I hope not."

"Grand'-mère thinks it could kill him."

"Let's hope they don't. I really hope they don't. The strange thing is..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What's strange?"

"Nothing. It's just your father."

"What about him?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Maman—"

"I just get the impression—it's very odd—that he'd prefer it."

"Prefer what?"

"Prison."

I thought about this for a moment. "That's ridiculous."

"Oh, I don't mean he would admit it. He might not even know it. And maybe I'm just wrong."

"Maybe you are."

"It's just that he talks about all this as if prison were a certainty. Not to your grandparents—I don't mean with them. But when we talk, the two of us."

"He's probably trying to prepare for the worst, don't you think? I do that—like I imagine that I've failed a test, even when I'm pretty sure I haven't, so that—"

"I don't think so.

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