textfiles/reports/ACE/things.txt

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          ARRoGANT                CoURiERS      WiTH     ESSaYS

Grade Level:       Type of Work           Subject/Topic is on:
 [ ]6-8                 [ ]Class Notes    [Creative Essay with a   ]
 [ ]9-10                [ ]Cliff Notes    [Doctor                  ]
 [x]11-12               [x]Essay/Report   [                        ]
 [ ]College             [ ]Misc           [                        ]

 Dizzed: 12/94  # of Words:3781  School: ?              State: ?
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>Chop Here>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
                                Of All Things

      Well doctor, we realized we needed help because, because it just
wasn't working out. You can only work out your own problems for so long.
      I'm sure you are, doctor. No, Dr. Pasquali recommended you, he's our
family doctor. He thought it might help for us to see you.
      Oh I see. Tuesday, then. All right.
      Thursday? I think he could. I'll tell him. Are you sure you don't
want to see us together?
      I suppose so, doctor. Goodbye.

                                   Tuesday

      Thank you doctor.
      No, I wasn't expecting a pipe-smoking Freudian, but.....
      Of course not. Maybe Arnaud would, but not me.
      Okay, I'll tell you if I am. But I won't be. After all, I am the one
who decided to come to you.
      Nine.
      Well, doctor, it involves our apartment.
      Oh, a very nice one, near the University, view of the river and all
that. We got it about ten years ago, and we never saw any reason to move.
Since we decided never to have kids, I guess we never needed anything
larger -- not that it's small, of course.
      A condominium.
      Well, I teach literature at McGill. And I went on an academic
exchange to Germany.
      Hamburg. It's an ugly city, but we enjoyed it anyway.
      Yes, teaching. I got Arnaud to travel around Germany a bit, and we
came back through France.
      No, I wish I had learnt it, but since I taught my students in French
it didn't matter too much. And of course they all speak English.
      When we got back. The time we were there was fine.
      We'd rented it out to a couple from Qu‚bec City. They seemed nice,
and we didn't want it to sit empty for six months. We charged them less
than we should have, but that didn't seem to matter.
      No, we didn't really know them. We put an ad in the paper, and they
answered it.
      Oh, they paid us. After three months, we got a check. And when we
came home, the rest was there, in cash, on the kitchen table.
      It was the apartment. They ... they ... ruined it. They changed
everything. All our things, just vanished.
      No, it wasn't empty. That's the funny part. They didn't just take
everything away. They replaced it. All our furniture, all the pictures and
sculptures and books, even the wallpaper. We now live in someone else's
fully furnished apartment.
      It's not funny. It's like somebody took part of your life and ....
      Already?
      No, I understand. If we discussed our visits you wouldn't get our
points of view clearly.

                                  Thursday

      Could I sit down?
      Thank you.
      Of course I'm not. We wouldn't have agreed to come here if we didn't
think it would help.
      How would it help? I guess just that we are talking to someone about
it, that is supposed to make us understand it better, isn't it?
      Where should I begin? Do you want to hear about my childhood?
      I don't know if it's important. What do you think?
      All right then.
      Ghyslaine got sent to Germany, so of course I went too. I would have
liked to work there, but on such short notice.... We went to Hamburg, it's
not bad as a city but I prefer Montr‚al.
      I'm a chemist. I teach, and I do research in .... in pretty esoteric
stuff you wouldn't be interested in. Or would you? Have you ever heard of
fractal aggregate quasi-crystals?
      That's okay, most people haven't. Anyhow since I wasn't working for
six months I decided to kick around the country a little bit, but Ghyslaine
didn't seem too interested in that, so mostly I stayed in Hamburg.
      No, I was glad that she got that opportunity. Of course I would have
liked to work, but since that wasn't possible I made do.
      Oh yes, we enjoyed it. Especially coming back through France; I
hadn't been there since I was a student.
      Since that what this whole business is about, I guess I should tell
you about our apartment, even though Ghyslaine probably already has. It's
on the third floor, but since it's on the hill it has quite a view. You can
see the city and the river and the bridges. We used to sit on the balcony
in summer and watch the ships go by under the bridges. I must be
old-fashioned but I always thought it might be a good idea to get a house,
but we were always too busy to move, and what would we do with so much
space?
      Oh yes, we've quite enjoyed it. It's in a nice neighbourhood, and
although it's an old building the plumbing and electricity and so on are
only twelve years old. Anyhow we have been there for ten years and we had
decorated it bit by bit -- you know, a coffee table here, a painting there
-- and it really felt like home. Not home home -- my brother lives in my
parents' house, and it still has all the old furniture -- but we were
comfortable.
      Actually, I guess you could say the problem itself happened while we
were gone. We let the apartment out to a dentist, he wanted a place for he
and his wife to stay while they had a house built. At first I thought it
would be all right to just leave the place locked up, maybe have the
superintendent come and check in on it once in a while, but Ghyslaine said
she would feel better if someone were living in it.
      It was when we got back. The first thing we saw was the rug. We'd had
one of those woven reed mats, I got it when I was at a conference in South
America. It had a pattern out of dark and light reeds. As soon as we opened
the door we saw a rug, red and blue, made out of wool. It was a very nice
rug, and at first we thought those people -- the ones we rented it out to
-- had left it as a gift. Then we saw that the wallpaper was gone, and they
had painted the wall light blue, and everything else was changed.
      For example we had a big china cabinet with some antique dishes in
it, and it was gone. There was a new table, sort of modern, and even the
microwave was different. They left the stove, though. But they took away
our bookcases and all the books and all our family things like my
grandfather's watch and Ghyslaine's wedding dress.
      No, things like that they didn't replace. There was new cutlery and
dishes, though, and new sheets -- they put in a waterbed. The stereo we
thought was gone, but we found they'd put in one of those hidden
TV-VCR-Stereo boxes with a remote control. Kind of neat, actually.
      That was quick. I think I feel better, though. Thank you so much,
doctor, you don't know what we've been going through.

                                   Tuesday

      I'm sorry I'm late, doctor. I guess with your own office and just the
secretary you don't have to worry about meetings and all that.
      There is that. But I think it would be nice to work for yourself.
      How could I? There isn't much demand for private consultants on
French Literature.
      I don't think I could change careers if I wanted to. I'd give up so
much -- my seniority, all my benefits, my pension -- and anyhow teaching
literature is what I do.
      No, Arnaud would never consider anything else. I have to practically
force him to take over research projects. He doesn't understand
achievement, he doesn't care if he sits with his test tubes all day. I try
to tell him he's not a boy with a science kit any more, but I don't think
he knows what I'm talking about. Now where were we last week?
      Ah yes. Well, when we got home -- it was late at night, and we were
tired -- the first thing we saw was that the mirror opposite the door was
gone. I'd bought an antique mirror with an oak frame at a shop downtown
about five years ago. The glass was very old, twisted like the trick mirror
at a fair, and it was cut in an oval about fifty centimetres high. It was
gone and there was a print of a painting, Monet or something.
      How could I? I mean, I haven't really bothered to look at the things;
it's not as if I'm going to look at that picture and say, "Oh, isn't that
pretty." They stole my mirror. There's no way I could like the picture.
      Because it was so, so .... nasty. I mean, why would somebody do
something like that? For a joke? If they just took everything, and sold it,
then maybe I could understand that. They wanted money. But the god-damned
stuff they've got there now is probably worth more than our old stuff. They
took everything, they took our lives. It just seems so stupid, but our
books, our photo albums, even our furniture, they weren't just things, they
were part of us.
      Yes. Doctor, do you have children?
      Well how would you feel if someone took her away and gave you a
different girl instead? Would you just go on living like before?
      Yes it is the same. Everything that was us was in that apartment. And
it's all gone.
      Not really. We could get things that were similar, but it could never
be the same. Call it nostalgia, if you want, but we had some kind of
attachment to those things.
      Of course not. There was a hideous lamp Arnaud got when he was a
student and for some reason kept, and I guess one or two of the dishes we
had were pretty ghastly. I remember one was a big plate made out of some
kind of plastic, and it was bright orange. It had the signs of the zodiac
around it and a picture of the sun in the middle. We got it as a wedding
gift and never once used it.
      I think it has, in a way. I hate to think that our marriage was based
on material things, but we're not as close as we were. It feels like we're
on holiday, and staying at someone else's house, and we have to be on our
best behaviour because they are watching us.
      Fine, doctor, until next week.

                                  Thursday

      No, it's nothing serious, I just cut my finger on a broken flask. The
bandage is much bigger than the cut.
      Yes there has been. I mean, maybe nothing has changed, maybe I just
see it differently, I'm not sure. I just don't feel as comfortable any
more. It doesn't seem as honest as it used to.
      Of course not. I could never do that to her. Maybe I'm just afraid
to, but I value our marriage too much. If we aren't loyal to each other,
then why be together? We've been so honest that there hasn't been any
chance.
      No.
      I can't figure it out. Ghyslaine thinks it's some kind of joke, but I
just don't know. I don't think we ever will know. Our neighbours saw the
whole thing, but they must have thought we were moving out.
      No, we have no idea where they are. Our lawyer tried to trace them,
but they disappeared. He figures they used an assumed name. It's funny,
though. We had him examine our insurance policy and he figured out that we
will get money for everything that was taken. As long as it's been stolen,
he says, we get paid for it. The company is complaining about it, of
course, but we're sure we'll get paid for it all.
      More than I thought. You don't realize how much you spend on things
like that over the years. How much do you think the things in your house
are worth, doctor?
      Well you should find out, have everything appraised, in case there's
a fire or something.
      OK.
      I honestly can't tell. It feels wrong, but I'm a scientist and I know
feelings are not supposed to mean anything. If our lives had happened
differently we might have decorated the apartment this way ourselves. If we
had come into the antique store a day later maybe they would have sold our
old chair and we would have bought the new one. And who know, maybe then we
would have chosen the blue paint. And the colour of the kitchen does
brighten it up. Objectively, I can't find anything wrong with it.
Subjectively, I can't live with it. I wake up in the night and I don't know
where I am. I hate these people for getting rid of all our things but I
don't know what was so special about it in the first place. If all we had
was tables and chairs and paint and even books then what did we really
have?
      Symbols? In a way but there is something more than that.
      No, the change is very real. I can hear it in her voice. She seems
disconnected from me.
      Yes and no. We go through the motions, but we're not all there.
      Worse, if anything. She spends more time with her friends, not that I
mind that in itself, but she acts as if there is something wrong. But there
isn't.
      That's for sure. Listen, have I told you about my childhood?
      Already? But it's only--
      I understand. Goodbye, doctor.

                                   Tuesday

      Have I? You won't tell Arnaud, will you?
      Good. It would kill him. I have, yes. A colleague, a few years ago.
And a man I met in a restaurant. And others.
      Because, well, Arnaud is .... Arnaud. I did it to save our marriage.
I know that sounds crass but I don't think I could have survived with just
him for the rest of my life. I needed space to breathe.
      It hasn't helped, that's for sure. It's made us both uneasy, and
everything that kept us together is not there anymore.
      Not fights, exactly; hardly even disagreements. We talk to each other
and we're not sure what we said. I look at his eyes and it's as if I spoke
in some foreign language. He has to think about what I said before he
answers. He never did that before, we're not living in the same world like
we used to. We could talk to each other without weighing and judging what
we said and heard. We can't seem to deal with each other like that any
longer.
      He does. When I get up and go into the kitchen and see him there
drinking coffee and reading the newspaper it's like I'm watching an actor.
I don't know if it's someone else pretending to be Arnaud or Arnaud
pretending to be someone else. I'm still used to seeing him in a certain
context -- in that chair, with this music on the stereo. I thought it would
go away after a time, that we'd get used to it. I know I haven't. I think
Arnaud has, mostly because he doesn't care about things like that. I
haven't had anyone over for dinner. I just can't show them the rooms, I
can't tell them what happened. I don't want them to feel sorry for me.
      Because it doesn't do any good. I mean, they don't know what really
happened to us, and they can't understand.
      No doctor, of course you're different.
      I guess I am afraid of that. I don't know if it would be worse for
them to feel sorry for me or for them to tell me how wonderful the place
looks and how pleased I should be.
      I could try.
      We haven't decided. I think Arnaud actually likes it. He's like a kid
sometimes, the way he gets excited over things. He'll get over it.

                                  Thursday

      Ghyslaine has left me.
      You looked surprised. Didn't she tell...
      Oh. Well she has. She went to stay with a friend, just for a little
while, she said, to sort some things out.
      I don't. When I came home there was a note and her things were gone.
      Just what she said, to sort things out.
      Never. We always worked things out together.
      No sign at all. Last night we sat and watched the boats like we used
to, but she said she hated the yellow chairs we have now. They're the kind
with metal frames and strips of vinyl across the back and the seat. And a
table with an umbrella.
      I don't know anymore. I know we're not supposed to know what each
other says to you, but do you have any idea what might have...
      Well do you think you're doing any good for us? What with.....
      That's a cryptic thing to say. I suppose your job is to keep us sane
enough that we'll keep coming to you but crazy enough that we'll still need
you.
      Well I'd hardly call it a science.
      Fine, if that's what you want. It's just that, I don't know, I'm not
sure if we really want it to work any more.
      I mean by that exactly what I said.
      Listen, all I'm saying is that this whole business has made both of
us wonder if we should really be together. We just hadn't thought about it
before. Is there something wrong with us thinking, for God's sakes?
      I still don't know. I just know that for some reason we, we don't
hate each other or anything but we don't know what's going on anymore. At
least I don't.

                                   Tuesday

      Don't say anything. I just had to get away.
      From that place, from those things.
      Not from him. Never from him.
      He's a big boy. He should be able to tell. I made it pretty clear.
      He can take care of himself. I don't want to hurt him.
      If it stops me from going crazy it does help, yes. I just can't stand
living in that place.
      We'll work something out. We still talk. It's not as if we're
fighting. We had dinner on Saturday. He had to meet me to give me some of
my make up, so we went to a little seafood restaurant. We are still
married, after all.
      I don't know and I don't care. They can say what they want.
      Yes. But it's only for a while. I don't love him; I'll go back to
Arnaud soon.
      Of course not. It wouldn't do him any good. I've put him through
enough, leaving and all that. I want things to get back to normal.
      He's from the history department. I've known him for a long time,
socially. He was married. He's great, in a way, but I couldn't stand him
for a long time. I look into his eyes, sometimes, and I see something there
that I don't like. He wears contacts, blue ones. His real eyes are brown.
They look honest, at first, but if you look hard enough at the veins they
look like cracks in china. The iris are like wood and then the pupils are
like a hole straight into his brain only you see nothing but there is
something there, just there's no light to see it with. I was looking at his
eyes and I got scared and ran into the bathroom and locked myself into the
bathroom panting for five ten minutes watching myself in the mirror. I told
him, just a memory, just a flashback of something that happened when I was
a kid. It wasn't true. I just couldn't tell him what really happened. I was
too afraid.
      No. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with him so it doesn't
matter.
      Yes, I've thought about it. I think it's that somebody else has taken
us over. When they replaced all our belongings it was like having a book
published and going to the bookstore and finding that the editor changed
every single world. I just want to shout, "THIS IS NOT ME!"

                                  Thursday

      You're like a priest, doctor, taking confession. I thought Ghyslaine
was with a girlfriend, somebody she grew up with -- she's still very close
with all her friends from her old neighbourhood. Every time I called she
was out, but I never caught on. I heard it through the grapevine. I
suspected it before -- her tennis instructor, maybe, and others, but I
never was sure. I gave her the benefit of the doubt.
      No, she seems to think I'm still completely unaware of everything. On
the phone she's so cheerful, it makes me sick. I know it can't go on but
what am I going to do? If it's just the apartment we can sell it, move
somewhere else start over, but I don't think it is.
      I think it just brought things out that were always there.
      Such as we really don't understand each other and are deceiving each
other all the time. I just can't believe that I'm lying to her. She phones
up and I tell her I'm fine. She thinks I'm just waiting for her, sitting in
my chair reading a book waiting for her to come back. I'll understand.
      Of course I'll understand. I'll understand all too well. And I'll
make her understand, too.
      I'm not going to kill myself over her.
      She wouldn't. Or would she? If you think about it, it would be a lot
easier for her if we were at least separated. She doesn't need me.
      I thought I did. But I think the her that I needed just isn't there
anymore.
      Maybe we should sell the apartment. I don't know if that would keep
us together.
      I think I do. At least to try.

                                   Tuesday

      You'd be pleased, doctor. We had a shouting match on the phone, let
out all our tempers. Very therapeutic, I'm sure.
      How cryptic. We thought it helped; that's what counts.
      It turns out Arnaud found out about my little escapade. Oops. He
never got so mad in his life.
      Of course he did. He didn't really have any choice, I think.
      We sold the apartment (it was worth more than we thought: some of the
things in it were antiques). We used most of that money and all the
insurance money to buy a new place. Nothing there, at the moment, but we'll
take our time decorating it. I found a mirror just like the old one; I've
already hung it up.
      Together.