Post by Yves Chevalier on Jul 24, 2010 14:19:59 GMT -5
The day Claire was born was both one of the happiest and one of the saddest days of my life. Where Julia's birth had been filled with joy and laughter, Claire came into the world too early, and the day was marked instead with anxiety, fear and anger. It seemed sometimes that I was destined to continually lose at love, and Rosalia was no exception. This time, though, as I looked back, I knew I should have known from the start that I could not save her from herself, and while this was as much a tragedy as I had left behind in Eisande, it was at least of her making as much as mine.
I had tried, Gods knew, from the day I dragged her from the kitchen floor and tried to clear the remnants of alcohol and opium from her. For awhile, it had worked, but there was always something sad in Rosalia, something I could not get through to, and even when we had Julia, she still could not seem to enjoy her. Maybe that was why I had never pushed marriage, I must have known, somehow, that she would never truly change, and when she began to drink again, things only went downhill from there. I hated to leave Julia alone with her, and that by itself should have been a sign. Maybe I would have left her then, but she was pregnant again, this time with my sweet Claire.
No matter what I said or did, she continued to drink and use opium while she was pregnant, and now Claire was barely holding on to her life while Rosalia wept in the bed, unable to understand why I did not feel sorry for her. I realized then that I no longer felt anything for her save contempt, and that by endangering our child so, she had killed any chance we had, if indeed there had ever been a chance.
I talked to her father, who was as upset as I, and I gave him coin enough to move on, for I could not have them living at the bath house with the girls if Rosalia was going to be out of their lives. She did not so much as argue at the thought of losing her daughters, and it was so easy to be rid of her that it was almost like she had never been. Except that now I had two children to take care of, one of them ill, and for the first time I wished for all the things I had given up. I found it easy to live without money, all these years, but I would have liked to have it now, for the best physician I could find to tend Claire.
I knew we would manage though, I was adept at it, and as I sang a lullaby to my newborn, Julia curled up next to me, I knew that I had done the right thing in sending Rosalia away. I had to keep my girls safe, no matter what.
"Dodo, l’enfant do,
L’enfant dormira bien vite
Dodo, l’enfant do
L’enfant dormira bientôt.
Une poule blanche
Est là dans la grange.
Qui va faire un petit coco*
Pour l’enfant qui va fair’ dodo.
Dodo, l’enfant do,
L’enfant dormira bien vite
Dodo, l’enfant do
L’enfant dormira bientôt.
Tout le monde est sage
Dans le voisinage
Il est l’heure d’aller dormir
Le sommeil va bientôt venir."
When my voice finally quieted, little Claire slept soundly, and I thought Julia did as well, until she spoke, softly.
"Papa, when is mama coming home?"
It hurt my heart that even as terrible of a mother as Rosalia had been, Julia still yearned for her.
"She is not coming home, Julia, mama had to go away."
"Why?"
Why, indeed? "She is ill, and she must leave to get well. Do not worry, mon petite, I will never leave, and it will be you, and I, and little Claire for always."
This answer seemed to satisfy her, for she nestled against me and gave a great yawn, her drowsy eyelids falling closed.
"I love you, papa." And then I could tell that she slept, and while the girls slept, I planned, so that my words to Julia would be truth - we would always be together.
I had tried, Gods knew, from the day I dragged her from the kitchen floor and tried to clear the remnants of alcohol and opium from her. For awhile, it had worked, but there was always something sad in Rosalia, something I could not get through to, and even when we had Julia, she still could not seem to enjoy her. Maybe that was why I had never pushed marriage, I must have known, somehow, that she would never truly change, and when she began to drink again, things only went downhill from there. I hated to leave Julia alone with her, and that by itself should have been a sign. Maybe I would have left her then, but she was pregnant again, this time with my sweet Claire.
No matter what I said or did, she continued to drink and use opium while she was pregnant, and now Claire was barely holding on to her life while Rosalia wept in the bed, unable to understand why I did not feel sorry for her. I realized then that I no longer felt anything for her save contempt, and that by endangering our child so, she had killed any chance we had, if indeed there had ever been a chance.
I talked to her father, who was as upset as I, and I gave him coin enough to move on, for I could not have them living at the bath house with the girls if Rosalia was going to be out of their lives. She did not so much as argue at the thought of losing her daughters, and it was so easy to be rid of her that it was almost like she had never been. Except that now I had two children to take care of, one of them ill, and for the first time I wished for all the things I had given up. I found it easy to live without money, all these years, but I would have liked to have it now, for the best physician I could find to tend Claire.
I knew we would manage though, I was adept at it, and as I sang a lullaby to my newborn, Julia curled up next to me, I knew that I had done the right thing in sending Rosalia away. I had to keep my girls safe, no matter what.
"Dodo, l’enfant do,
L’enfant dormira bien vite
Dodo, l’enfant do
L’enfant dormira bientôt.
Une poule blanche
Est là dans la grange.
Qui va faire un petit coco*
Pour l’enfant qui va fair’ dodo.
Dodo, l’enfant do,
L’enfant dormira bien vite
Dodo, l’enfant do
L’enfant dormira bientôt.
Tout le monde est sage
Dans le voisinage
Il est l’heure d’aller dormir
Le sommeil va bientôt venir."
When my voice finally quieted, little Claire slept soundly, and I thought Julia did as well, until she spoke, softly.
"Papa, when is mama coming home?"
It hurt my heart that even as terrible of a mother as Rosalia had been, Julia still yearned for her.
"She is not coming home, Julia, mama had to go away."
"Why?"
Why, indeed? "She is ill, and she must leave to get well. Do not worry, mon petite, I will never leave, and it will be you, and I, and little Claire for always."
This answer seemed to satisfy her, for she nestled against me and gave a great yawn, her drowsy eyelids falling closed.
"I love you, papa." And then I could tell that she slept, and while the girls slept, I planned, so that my words to Julia would be truth - we would always be together.