The Carousel of Desire by Schmitt Éric-Emmanuel

Author:Schmitt, Éric-Emmanuel [Schmitt, Éric-Emmanuel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781609453541
Amazon: B079MJ65WR
Goodreads: 52873728
Publisher: Europa Editions
Published: 2013-08-21T07:00:00+00:00

For the next four hours, she threw away whatever Dany had smashed and tidied whatever had escaped the massacre. The more she erased the marks of violence, the better she felt. She gave up trying to understand what had been behind that fit of rage. A “psychopath”—that was all Dany was. A psychopath, which meant he was “not to be associated with,” and also meant it was “pointless trying to understand what’s beyond understanding”; he joined a gallery of monsters, like Hitler, Genghis Khan, Stalin, possibly Mehdi Martin, the serial killer defended by Maître Davon—they were both crazy, so it was no wonder they got along!

Her affair with Dany was over. Good. She’d started to get bored anyway . . . Of course, it was nice to fuck passionately for hours on end, in eighteen thousand different positions. Even so, repetition was boring. Especially since they had gone so over the top that she’d already had vaginitis twice. She had felt flattered the first time, as if she had been decorated for valor on the battlefield: the inflammation of the mucous membranes was a kind of a trophy, the proof that she had been brave in the battle of love. But the required abstinence had complicated their lives over the following days, so that she and Dany wanted to bite each other when they couldn’t make love. As a result, a second case of vaginitis had led her to take an unplanned, prudent trip to her mother’s. As she vacuumed up the pieces of glass from the gaps in the floorboards, she realized she had endangered her health. As for the swingers’ clubs, she hadn’t enjoyed them for very long. That had always been her problem: she quickly tired of people and activities.

She was startled by the sound of a key in the lock. A shadowy figure slipped into the corridor. Dany stood before her. She froze.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice.

She didn’t react.

“Faustina, I’m sorry. My anger wasn’t aimed you, you took the brunt for the others.”

“What others?”

“Those who only see me as a man of mixed race.”

The long silence that followed brought a fragile peace. Faustina sensed that Dany was being sincere: he was suffering, he was ashamed.

She wondered if she too was suffering and realized that she was more than anything annoyed at having spent four hours tidying up.

“I beg you, Faustina, forgive me. I’ll replace everything I smashed. And more. Please . . . ”

She looked at his full lips, his fine features, his firm skin, his very white eyeballs. A powerful wave rose within her, which she took for forgiveness and which must have contained a certain amount of desire. She opened her arms, and he immediately took refuge in them.

As long as he doesn’t cry. I hate men who snivel.

She giggled: Dany’s skillful fingers were already trying to take off her skirt.

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