L'appel Du Vide [Call Of The Void]

[5]

Philippe ventured past the clearing in the forest with Maurice, a bottle of expensive wine dangling from the latter's hand—they'd stolen it from the bar round the bend. Maurice worked a second job there and nicked alcohol whenever possible. It struck a chord within him when he remembered that Papa did that at the bakery too. He realized that the Parisians were desperate-- desperate enough to pull their lofty morals off their pedestal and stoop to petty theft.

The two of them sat down cross-legged under a tree. It was late in the afternoon, a good while till Philippe had to be home for dinner. He had searched for jobs the whole morning, but to no avail. Maman would be disappointed. It was beyond both their imaginations as to why an able-bodied man like Philippe was unable to secure a job.

As Philippe uncorked the bottle, he looked at Maurice and something strange struck him. Maurice worked jobs that peasants like him would work in, but he seemed a little better off than the rest of them. He knew that the job at the bar paid well while the d'Aramitzs paid him alright, there were times when Maurice would wander off without a word, only to come back hours later. Besides, his prosperity was something much beyond what could be earned in two incomes.

"How many jobs exactly do you work, Maurice?"

Philippe was about to take a sip, but Maurice grabbed the bottle and gulped down about one-quarter of its contents. He let out a cry of pleasure and massaged his throat, smiling. He slumped down against the tree.

His face was tuned in on the wine, and his voice distant as he answered."Three," Maurice answered. The man had been an alcoholic during the better times and had been forced to quit by his brusque sister when she took it upon herself to ensure them a better life. Still, the man yearned for alcohol. The fact that it was forbidden made it all the more tempting to him.

"The bar pays you well enough to keep yourself and your sister going, though, doesn't it?" Philippe said. The bar was situated at the rim of two peculiar neighborhoods. The poorer hemisphere, where Philippe lived, provided cheap labor the bar needed, for it was one of the posher bars in the vicinity. The richer hemisphere consisted of big businessmen, just a little short of nobility—customers who could afford to frequent bars and tipped generously.

"Yes, it is all we need," Maurice said and paused to take a quick sip of the wine. "But one can't have too good a life, can he? There's always this thirst for a better one."

"If only all people were like you, Maurice," Philippe replied, giving Maurice a genial pat on the back.

"I enjoy making money, it's just that,' the latter shrugged as he passed the bottle to Philippe, who took a sip.

"So," Philippe said, "Did the d'Aramitz housekeeper mention anything about my enquiry?"

"They do not have a vacancy, unfortunately," Maurice said, sympathy flashing across his face.

Philippe sighed in frustration and the banged his fist against the ground. He gazed at the ground, trying to collect his shattered thoughts. The faintest possibility of a decent job that been crushed by Maurice's words. He would have to face his parents as an unemployed man tonight again—he had really been hoping to put an end to that. He spent every day on the streets, looking out for jobs, ready to accept anything. And then, there were people like Maurice, who worked three jobs just to make money.

However, he tried to keep his flickering smile intact, for he did not want to reveal how desperate he was for a job. The fact that he struggled to find one job while Maurice had three was a hefty blow to him.

"So, the bar, the d'Aramitz stables—that explains two jobs," Philippe said as steered the conversation into lighter waters. Maurice passed him the bottle.