The Endless Week, page 11
My brother writes poems.
Oh, my dear, I don’t give a fuck. I’m not interested in other people.
Do you want me to read one?
Why not.
because it’s the end of the planet
they left the world
they carried their eyes away in a bag
Catherine said: That’s shit.
these days a fish replaces
its scales with a black dot
if I had insect tears
I’d give them to other animals like little pieces of jewelry
And Catherine said: That’s shit, my dear, total shit.
put your hand in the darkness
it spreads
Catherine said: Like shit.
I’m stopping.
No, finish.
Sara looked at Catherine and she said: I don’t want to anymore.
How many lines are left?
One line.
One piece of shit. Come on, finish it. Finish it please.
accelerating sadness
Catherine applauded in an asymmetrical way. Her hands didn’t touch. She was smiling. Her lips creased over her black gums. Sara said: Why did you come up to me? Why do all the crazy people talk to me?
Oh, my dear, that’s obvious. You’re lying on the steps in an empty square at night, of course people are going to talk to you, we know what we’re supposed to do. Everyone has their job in the world.
Sara didn’t say anything and, suddenly, Catherine got bored. She was sighing like a madwoman with her old, gray, pursing mouth. Her lips came out of her mouth like a mollusk. Sara showed her things on her phone, music videos from an American singer, and Catherine thought it was shit. She showed her videos of people who climb on the roofs of apartment buildings and don’t fall, and Catherine said it was shit. She showed her Salim’s videos and videos of people eating spicy Chinese noodles, and Catherine thought it was all shit. She showed her videos of trees and flowers growing at an accelerated speed, Catherine thought that was shitty and she smiled. She smiled and rain started to fall. She looked at the sky and yelled: Go on, squeeze it out!
*
My children, there are ten things you must know:
1. You sharpen a knife with a knife.
2. The wind might not have hands, but it shakes the trees.
3. There are two kinds of people. First, there are people who behave toward you the way they would behave toward anyone. Sometimes they are agreeable and sometimes they are disagreeable, that’s normal. Then there are the others, people who are afraid of bothering you. They’re very attentive, they pay you compliments, but fear them, for they will change. If they were good, they’ll become bad. If they were polite, they will become rude. If they flattered you, they will wound you. It won’t be normal.
4. Smile at people you don’t like but without your eyes. Don’t force your eyes to produce a smile.
5. Everything that heats up becomes hard, like mud, for example. And everything that heats up becomes soft, like gold, for example. That’s how it is, my children.
6. Often those with no legs to stand on don’t like shoes.
7. Cook something before you get hungry.
8. Maybe the world was created by people and they forgot. It’s possible, honestly, it’s possible.
9. Everyone deserves pity.
10. God gives nuts to those who have no teeth.
3
The social worker wasn’t a woman, but a man with a high-pitched voice.
His bald head shone in the sun. He did nothing to welcome the father. Still, he had a sweetness to his face, like a man who runs to pick up children who’ve fallen on the playground. He said: I have a huge forehead. You’re looking at my forehead, aren’t you? The father tried to smile, but his face made a grimace. The social worker said: You weren’t looking at my forehead? Oh, yes, well, I thought you were looking at my forehead. Have you brought the receipt?
The father said: What receipt?
The receipt that demonstrates your presence.
I’m here.
I see that, but do you have the receipt?
The social worker’s voice made his teeth hurt. The father said: No.
The social worker sighed. He held out a folding chair to the father who unfolded it. He said: I’ll get straight to the point, you’re in a bad way. Let’s talk about it. The father said: I brought all the papers. He pulled out a fat mauve envelope and took out some documents: gray and black records, photos of his children, the grandmother’s medical records, a divorce certificate. The social worker yawned with his mouth closed. He said: Yes, well . . . As you know, we are looking at several years of school absences concerning your son, Salim. Is that correct? Just say yes or no, we don’t want to waste any time. The social worker was addressing the papers in the father’s hands. The father responded: Yes.
The social worker said: It’s a rather classic case. The first thing you should know is that the well-being of students takes precedence over legal matters in my department. There are formalities, frameworks, and criteria that we must respect, however, the well-being of individuals, particularly that of minors, takes precedence over administrative issues regarding national cooperation with the Office of Family Affairs. In addition, as a senior social worker, I’m particularly invested in improving the development of students in distress across sectors, and always in partnership with families. It’s a collaborative partnership, a form of co-creation. We work hand in hand, sir. Your hand in mine. And my hand in yours. That’s our policy.
He looked like a toy. His skin shone. He said: School absences are generally due to complex family situations or a lack of commitment on the part of one or both parents, depending on the case. I know you benefit from social housing assigned to you by the mayor of your municipality. As I’m sure you are aware, the mayor is a natural person representing municipal authority. Hence, we must respect him. I also know that your wife hates you. It is also possible that she hates her children, which may seem rare and dramatic, however, it’s rather common, mothers who hate their children, I mean, it’s rather common. According to the information I have at hand, these are the factors that led to her disappearance. Have at hand in a manner of speaking, because I am not physically holding the documents in my hands, as you can plainly see. He twiddled his thumbs as if to support what he was saying.
The father tried to smile. He said the word: Yes.
The social worker continued: Listen, sir, you have to understand that the future of your son is at stake, and the future of a child is the future of a municipality and the future of the planet, given the globalized world we live in. Our wish at the Office of Family Affairs, our sole wish, can be summed up by the following image, listen carefully: children holding hands and molding the world of tomorrow. Don’t you agree? The father said: Yes.
The social worker said: I must ask you to repeat that back to me, sir.
The father said: Children holding hands and molding the world of tomorrow. The social worker came closer to the father, and he said: Do you understand the depth of this sentence? I repeat: Children holding hands and molding the world of tomorrow. The social worker made incomprehensible gestures in front of his face with his fingers. He said: Think about it. Tomorrow. Two hands. Out of two hands. The world made out of two hands. And what do they do with two hands? What do they do with the world? Do you follow?
The father couldn’t keep his mind still, it went from the man’s nails to his nose to the landscape, as if the things around him existed only for him, as if a scene had been set for the father alone. A world created for no purpose, a world the social worker was part of just like anything else. The father articulated the word: Yes.
The social worker said: Listen, when I say the future of your son is at stake, it’s a manner of speaking, sir, because the future is an undefinable notion, and therefore purely speculative. The social worker typed the word future into his phone. He showed the screen to the father, and he read out loud: Time to come (opposite of the past).
The father nodded.
The social worker said: As you can see, these terms are too vague for the job at hand. However, we can visualize your son’s future together. Close your eyes, sir. This isn’t my area of expertise, but let’s give it a try. Visualize your son’s future. Visualize your son as an adult, working, imagine your son working, okay? Do you see him? Very good. My colleague will add this information to your file. Now, open your eyes. I know you are taking care of your ex-wife’s mother and that she’s dying. This is indicated in your file. But your son’s disappearance from school isn’t legal. The methods of distinguishing between individuals belonging to a single community, whether scholastic or familial, encourages me to remind you five to seven times per day by phone. And I must inform you of the following: I can take away your house, which will complicate an already complex situation, and nobody wants that to happen, sir, least of all me, least of all you, and vice versa. I assist my team with all operational and strategic activities, and I started to notice my old age by looking at my hands, the back of my hands. Additionally, your financial state worries our offices. Are you aware of that? The father said: Yes.
All documents related to dependents were filled out by my superior in a white office on an enormous computer. A brand-new, impersonalized office, on an enormous computer. I personally aided in the information unification procedure. The situation is alarming, sir, in a manner of speaking of course, because alarming doesn’t mean that an alarm is going to go off in your house, make no mistake. Alarming means that things aren’t going well, however, no alarms will actually go off. We haven’t placed any alarms on the premises of your place of residence, however, the situation remains alarming, even without an alarm. Have I made myself clear?
The father said: Yes.
The social worker said: I’m going to ask you to repeat what I’ve just said.
The father said: The situation remains alarming.
The social worker said: Even without an alarm?
The father said: Yes.
The social worker continued: Very good. Among other things, I’m also concerned about your daughter who is out of school, unemployed, out collecting donations online through her singing videos. I myself am subscribed to her channel and I take great pleasure in listening to her. Pleasure, yes, that’s the word. Especially at night, with headphones. Yes, pleasure. You know, my mother studied fine arts, so I know when something is artistically fine. Additionally, my thesis was about the acquisition of the concept of beauty in children ages zero to three, so I know what I’m talking about. I’ve managed cultural projects across the country, and getting back to your daughter, to your family, to your life, to your problems, your children’s videos are evidence I could use against you at any moment. I’m warning you, sir, poverty doesn’t rule out the most severe consequences. In effect, like dead trees caught in a storm, one by one, the poorest homes, too, become subject to eviction. When it rains, it often pours. We can take everything from you, and there’s nothing you can do to dispute it. Is that clear?
The father said: It’s clear.
The social worker said: You are surely aware of the fact that work pays. I’d like to know what kind of legal and labor example you hope to set for your two dependents under the age of twenty-five. So, the father talked about the walls he’d built for more than twenty years. And the social worker said: Oh, look over there. And he pointed to a low mountain covered in grass. Two dogs were running in the mist, they were white. The social worker said: I love them, they’re twins, I’m very proud of them. I think of them as my children. I know that you have children. Sir, as a man with children, you can understand me. And vice versa. In spite of the formality my job requires. He yelled: Aucassin! Nicolette!
The dogs made a sign with their muzzles in the air. The social worker said: Did you see? That’s a trick I taught them. At night, I put bulbs on their muzzles, and they write my name in the air with light. Isn’t that amazing? Amazing. I love dogs. I try not to compare them to humans, but I can’t help myself. I try not to, but I can’t help myself. When I think about it, I almost feel sorry for myself, I’m just like you, I do what I can. Oh, look over there. He pointed to a black spot near the mountain. He said: That’s a small, unmanned, remote-controlled or programmable airplane. My team and I have commissioned these little vehicles all over the region. These marvelous devices allow us to track the movements of dysfunctional families like yours whenever they venture beyond their domiciles. Progress makes me shiver in the lower half of my body. The social worker pointed to the lower half of his body. The father didn’t know which expression to put on his face. He felt an enormous desire to frown. The dogs ran in the distance. The social worker said: I see you’re thin. Do you work a lot with your hands? They’re worn out. Look at your hands, please.
The father looked at his hands. The social worker said: They’re not in good shape. I’m using basic words so you can understand me. Your face isn’t in good shape. Your hands aren’t in good shape. When I see you, I think: this is a man who’s given up. I’ve read your cv, I noticed you haven’t worked for a long time. A very long time. A long period of time. A hole in a life. And that’s a problem, I’m telling you honestly. That’s what we call a black mark on your record in the administrative field. We talk about BLACK MARKS! A BLACK MARK! We shout it. It’s a joke between colleagues: BLACK MARK! We pass around casefiles and yell: BLACK MARK! In the hallways, we roll on our chairs and yell: BLACK MARK! The social worker laughed and choked. The father also choked a little to be polite. His chin quivered. The social worker took out a large, black marker. He wrote: not good on the father’s envelope, the marker squeaked. The father tried to say a sentence, but he spluttered.
The social worker said: I will message you regarding next steps. If your son doesn’t return to the real world, I’ll take everything away from you and you might cry, it’s possible, it’s happened before. But tears are necessary for keeping your eyes moist. Tears contain proteins and other substances that keep your eyes healthy. They fight off infection. It’s interesting. Evolutionarily speaking, scientists argue that humans cry to signal their distress without producing any sound. We can therefore imagine a selective pressure that would have driven humans to develop a system of signals that doesn’t let predators know they are poor vulnerable creatures. Whatever it may be, I’ll let the secretary of the assistant at my school office know, and she will keep you up to date by email or I will call you directly. Now, give me back my chair. Quickly now. Let’s get up. I like to get up quickly to feel a little dizzy. Do you feel it? And the father said: Yes.
*
He’d placed his phone in front of his face to protect himself from the sun. The shadow formed a rectangle around his eyes. He yawned, he touched the screen: a man had carried his mother’s head, cut into three-by-three-centimeter cubes, in a pink briefcase for over twenty years. He touched the screen: bodies jumped from the impact of bullets in a far-off country, they rose and fell on dry ground. Dust surrounded them. He touched the screen: a soldier photographed his own death. In the image, you could see big red and blue flames, nothing more. He touched the screen: during his trial, an adolescent serial killer stated: I wish everything were worse, I wish I’d killed more people, I wanted more drama and for all of you to cry. His parents spoke in front of the camera. The father said: We lost him a long time ago, we felt like he was lost from the beginning. When my wife got pregnant, we understood that we were losing him. He touched the screen: dead fish, belly-up in a murky lake. A lake of dead fish. The images disturbed him. He touched the screen: chemical products were burning in a factory fire. A tunnel of smoke spit black clouds across the sky. Specialists said not to worry, they used the word: Excessively. He touched the screen: a multibillionaire was having an eight-kilometer-long slide built through his forest. He unveiled his private attraction by cutting a red string with golden scissors. He said: I like sliding.
Jonathan’s eyes were shining. He’d gone out, he’d been drinking, that’s for sure. Salim might have followed him to the bar. Jonathan found three pills in his sock, he chewed them. He might have taken something. He could hear the blood in his temples. He touched the screen: collections of phrases appeared in blue rectangles. The phrases of the day and the phrases of the day before. He saw the rectangles as paintings, perfect and still. He liked the rectangles without reading the phrases. He left a heart under a random rectangle. He touched the screen and he learned that dwarf elephants the size of pigs had lived on the islands of the Mediterranean in prehistoric times up until 5000 bce. He sent the article to Salim who didn’t say anything. Sara, who was lying on the stairs, didn’t say anything either.
There they were, all three of them, in the morning, not saying anything.
Jonathan scrolled through other pages. He looked at the pages of unknown artists. He touched the screen here and there, there were so many artists, in every city, on every street, so many unknown artists. He looked at their faces, their hair. Before, unknown artists were unknown artists, now unknown artists are known, they have their pages, their galleries, their followers. An unknown artist recorded her husband brushing his teeth, she said: I’ll watch these videos when he dies, it’ll be nice. I sense that he’ll die before me, it’s okay, we’re artists, it’s a feeling. On another unknown artist’s page, he learned there were fifty ways to say the word snow in some people’s language somewhere in the world. He copied and pasted images of white mountains on Salim’s page. He copied and pasted igloos and holes in ice, then he lowered his phone.
