Albert, the eldest son, was born blind. Even so, he was a happy and capable child who often taught his sister, Charlotte, most of the things he knew. With these things that were arriving in the world—call it the Internet, call it technology and progress in general—it seemed that Albert's life wouldn’t be as affected by his condition as it would have been in another era. Blanche taught at the same school as the two children, who were gradually ceasing to be the chubby babies they once were. However, neither of them was very sure if their mother really understood what was happening in their lives. She was known for being a boring teacher, disenchanted with the education system, like most philosophy teachers. However, more than disenchantment with the "educational model," it was another institution that had opened its doors to her, painting itself in attractive colors, only to turn into the ignominious prison no one talks about.
"Hervé! Hervé, damn it, do something about this! Hervé, the kitchen is flooding, it’s already covered all the furniture, damn it! Can you be useful just once in your damn life?"
Twelve years older than her, retired captain Hervé Berteau shuffled his feet, with not a single hair left on his head. He entered the kitchen, not very wide, where the water covering it reached just under his heels.
"Okay. I’ll call the plumber."
"The plumber. The plumber. Sure, sure, because now it turns out we’re rich, is that it? Are we rich, Hervé? Tell me, so I can finally know something."
Hervé didn’t answer right away.
"You love driving people crazy."
“What drives me crazy is your damn ability to do nothing, and that the kitchen is broken and you don’t know how to fix it.”
“You don’t know how, either, if that’s the point.”
“Have you ever thought about all the crap I do, Hervé?”
Suddenly, they heard a thumping sound.
“Albert, don’t go into the kitchen, you’ll slip!” she shouted, and then, turning towards where Hervé was, she continued through gritted teeth, “you know that if you slip on this floor, you could crack your little head open. Neither your dad nor I want that.”
“My little head. Got it, Mom. I’m not going to crack ‘my little head,’” he muttered, but she couldn’t pick up on the weariness in the teenager’s voice. It could almost have sounded like contempt, that same feeling she had started to feel for her late father at that age. But she only heard the voice of her boy, her little one, echoing her words, as he continued before walking away: “Well, Mom, now my little head and I are going to our room. Let’s talk later.”
She thought it was a sweet joke between her and Albert, to which she nodded. She didn’t hear him sigh or say anything else.
Blanche turned back to her husband, wanting to lash out again. Hervé was serious. He even seemed worried.
“‘His little head,’ seriously? Do you know how old your son is?”
“Old enough to fall from a height. He’s almost taller than you.”
"Blanche, for God’s sake. You can’t treat him like that. He’s not a kid. I thought you had better judgment. I thought you were someone with better judgment, but as always, I was wrong."
“He’s my son, and I know how I treat him, just like I know what’s best for him. You can’t ignore reality, Hervé. He has his problem…”
“He’s blind, damn it, not stupid.”
Blanche went rigid. She clenched her jaw forward, saying nothing. Her husband nodded and walked away from the kitchen.
“I’m going to call the plumber, Blanche. Try to keep your little head a bit calmer in the meantime.”
From his room, as his father entered the master bedroom, Albert heard the sound of a plate shattering against the kitchen wall.
YOU ARE READING
Ad eternum
Fantasy"Ad Eternum" tells the story of Blanche, a woman who, after committing suicide in the early 21st century, is reborn in the past, condemned to immortality. From the Roman Empire to Colonial America, passing through Constantinople, Jerusalem, England...
