Why did my parents always stand up together against me? When Mum said something, Dad stuck by her. If I asked Mum about something, she’d say, “Did you talk to Dad? If not, we will do it together!” There seemed to be no way around it. I just couldn’t sleep.
My parents were sitting in the salon as they did every evening, Father reading aloud, Mother knitting. But now they were both talking. Maybe about me—I thought for sure it was about me. I got up to listen, but my heartbeat was so loud that I went back to try to listen from my bed.
They were talking about religion. It was hard to follow; often their voices disappeared. “Adolphe, it is unacceptable, impossible that God is willing to come down in a Host that is elevated by such dirty hands as the priest’s.”
“Emma, we humans have no right to judge God and...”
This conversation was hard to understand. I covered myself up again. But I wondered about the priest who didn’t know that he had to wash his hands before he said the Mass!
I stood by the side door of the church. My heart raced. “This is the house of God. There can’t be a danger in there, can there?” I opened the door. The church was empty and gloomy. I quickly closed the door and left! By the following day, I had made up my mind. I would take the holy water and quickly make the sign of the cross, walking on my tiptoes and crouching down to hide behind the church pews. In front of the altar, I would quickly kneel and apologize that I could not stay, because I was not allowed to stay in the church alone. I would cross through and go out on the other side.
My jumping heart almost stopped me. The door made a grinding noise. I shook all over. The faces of the saints seemed to move. In front of the altar, I was breathless. By the time I got to the other side, my legs vanished. I thought I heard a voice in the nave. I ran out the side door as fast as I could and slammed the door behind me.
My conscience had been in turmoil over whether or not I should again visit the church alone. I came to a decision. “God is above my parents, and they don’t know my goal—I want to be a saint.” It was my great secret. I was ready to pay the price and face my parents’ disapproval. It never came to that because they never found out about my secret visits.
I had been consecrated to the Virgin Mary since my baptism and was to be present at the procession. The priest would walk under a canopy carried by four men. He would hold a golden image of the sun upon his face, and the girls would throw rose petals in the air in front of him. What a sacred service that was! Mother made me a white organdy dress with a light blue belt. She bought some new shoes and a rose crown for my head. I couldn’t wait! But then, suddenly, a bad cough canceled everything. I had never been sick; why did I have to come down with a bad cough? Was God mad at me? Mother gave my special outfit to another girl! I burned with jealousy! Three days later I felt well enough to go out again. That made me feel even worse.
When I went back to school, Frida was still absent. The doctor said she couldn’t come to school until her cough cleared up. Each day, I would call out to her, and each day her house remained silent.
Passing by her little house, I saw pots of beautiful white flowers in the backyard. Finally someone had given Frida a little attention.
Mum sent me to Aline’s shop to buy some sugar for our strawberries. I climbed up the four steps into the grocery store and stood behind a lady wearing crocodile shoes. She was tall and wore a summer overcoat—a true lady, so different from the women on our street.
As I saw her left hand in a lace glove, I was breathless. Here she was—the beautiful lady that I so admired! I must have stared with my mouth open. Good thing Mother didn’t see me.
Aline whispered, “Simone, don’t gape like that. The lady has eaten too many cherries and drunk water.” What a disappointment! Didn’t that fine lady know any better? I hadn’t noticed her big belly before. I saw only her nice blouse with that beautiful necklace, but now I realized that her stomach was so big she might burst at any moment. I stepped aside, running away as soon as I got my purchase, leaving that stupid lady behind!
“Simone, why didn’t you take Zita along to the store?” Mum asked.
“Zita is sick, and so is Claudine.” I was a nurse and Mother had made a special outfit for me. Mother said, “But this is only make-believe. You still can take Zita out. She needs it.”
“I’ll dress her and put her in Claudine’s carriage because she’s sick!” Mother laughed. She knew that I loved to dress my doggy, put her on her back like a baby, and surprise passersby with her.
“But now Zita badly needs to be on her four legs.”
“But Mum, she is really sick!” I was the nurse. I knew better than Mum.
“How do you know?”
“Can’t you see that every day her head gets smaller?”
Mother had put the sugar on the strawberries. “You see, all the juice will come out and dissolve the sugar. We will cook it when we come back from the garden.”
We had a nice view from the garden. On the horizon on one side of the hill, we could see the blue line of the Vosges Mountains; on the other side, the Schwarzwald Mountains, and a bright sun too!
“Keep an eye on Zita. She loves to make holes in the ground.” This wasn’t an easy job. When Zita smelled a mouse, she was determined, and she was strong too. I had a hard time pulling her out by her back legs.
Suddenly, night climbed up behind the trees. We gathered up the garden tools quickly. I had tied Zita on her leash for the walk back home. We heard noises like the wind and saw a fire-red sky. A dark cloud raced over our heads. Mother took me by the hand. We had to run for cover to keep from being harmed by the “fireworks.” A farm was ablaze!
Fiery sprays jumped out of the huge flames, sparking little fires in the dry grass. We saw chickens running all over the place; some were already on fire. The cows and the pigs couldn’t be saved. All the fire engines from the city arrived and sprayed water out of long hoses to wet down the farmhouse and the neighbors’ homes. The firemen’s helmets reflected the flames, their faces were red, their clothes dark. A terrible crash rekindled the fire, and the desperate cries of all the animals inside were silenced.
When we were permitted to pass by, the charred beams were still smoldering. The air was heavy with smoke for a long time.
I came home freezing. I couldn’t eat or play. Mother suggested I go to bed because I had a fever. Zita, too, was all upset and lay down next to my bed with wet eyes. It wasn’t bedtime yet, but Mother said, “Get a good night’s rest and you’ll feel better.”
But the night wasn’t “good.” I saw fire everywhere even when my eyes were closed. In my dreams I heard the terrible cries of the burning animals. Mother decided to sleep with me.
The next day was no better. “Mum, did Lucifer burn the barn and the animals in it?”
Mother named all the different ways that fires could start, but it didn’t take away my fear of hellfire. Dad tried to distract me by encouraging me to do some painting, but I was too restless.
Even though the weather was nice and warm, Frida was missing from school again. “Mademoiselle, why can’t Frida come to school?” Instead of answering she caressed my hair.
“Is she still coughing?”
“Oh,