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Twenty-three

Natalie was sitting at her desk. From the first morning of her return to work, she’d been confronted by something terrible: a block calendar. Out of respect, no one had touched her belongings. And no one had imagined how grim it would be for her to see the date of her last workday before the tragedy frozen in time on her desk. The date two days before her husband’s accident. On that page he was still alive. She picked up the calendar and began to turn pages. The days paraded by under her eyes. Each day since François’s death had felt loaded with an immense weight. And now, in a few seconds, just by turning the page for each day, she could see the trajectory concretely. All these pages, and she was still here. And now, it was today.
And then, the moment came when there was a new block calendar.
Natalie had been back to work for several months. Some thought the effort she was putting into it was excessive. Time seemed to go back to its course. Everything started again: the routine of meetings, the absurd side of files that you numbered like a seriesof items without the slightest importance. And then, the height of absurdity: these files would survive us. Yes, this is what she told herself as she filed documents. That all those hunks of pulp were superior to us in many respects, that they weren’t subject to illness, old age, or accident. No report would ever get run over while jogging on a Sunday.

Twenty-four

    Definition of the Word Delicate,
Since Defining Delicacy Isn’t Enough for
Understanding Delicacy
1. Subtle and subdued. A delicate flavor .
2. Showing fragility. Delicate crystal .
3. Requiring sensitive or careful handling. Delicate situation .
4. Characterized by subtle judgment, deftness. Delicate chess maneuvers .

Twenty-five

Since Natalie’s return to work, Charles had been in good spirits. He even enjoyed his Swedish lessons from time to time. Something having to do with confidence and respect had been forged between them. Natalie knew the value of the luck she had working for such a benevolent man. But she wasn’t duped by it anymore; she sensed his attraction to her. She allowed him to allude to it, as long as he did so more or less subtly. He never went too far, because she’d established a distance that seemed insurmountable to him. She never took part in his game, simply because she couldn’t play. It was beyond her power. She was saving all her energy for work. On numerous occasions, he tried to invite her to dinner; each attempt was futile, dismissed by silence. She just couldn’t go out. Certainly not with a man. This seemed ridiculous to her; if she had the pluck to hold out all day, concentrating on files that had no importance, why wouldn’t she grant herself a few moments of respite? It had to have something to do with her notion of pleasure. She didn’t feel she had the right to do anything that was lighthearted. That’s how it was. She just couldn’t. She wasn’t even sure she ever could.
Tonight, things were different. She’d finally accepted, and they were going to dinner. Charles had unveiled an unbeatable strategy: they had to celebrate her promotion. Yes, it was true, she’d taken a truly envious step up the ladder and would now manage a team of six people. Although her promotion was completely justified by her competence, she wondered all the same if she’d been given it because of the pity she aroused. At first she’d wanted to say no, but not accepting a promotion was complicated. Then, perceiving Charles’s eagerness to arrange that evening, she began wondering whether he’d speeded up her career advancement just to get her to go to dinner. Anything was possible; it was useless to try to understand. She only told herself that he was right: this definitely was a good excuse to force herself to go out. Maybe she’d be able to revive a kind of nightlife nonchalance.

Twenty-six

Charles had a major stake in this dinner. He knew it would be