Denis Emorine
Denis Emorine is the author of short stories, essays, poetry, and theater. He was born in 1956 and studied literature at the Sorbonne (University of Paris). His works have been published in France, Belgium, India, Luxembourg, Romania and the USA. His theatrical output has been staged in France and Russia. He is part of the editing team at La Nouvelle Tour de Feu and collaborates with various other reviews and literary websites in the U.S., Danmark, France, Germany and Japan. In 2004, he won first prize for his poetry at the Féile Filiochta International competition. his poetry has been published in Pphoo (India), Blue Beat Jacket (Japan), Snow Monkey, Cokefishing, and Be Wich Magazine (USA).
The Mural
(Translated from the French by Philip John Usher)
When I ran into my neighbor on the staircase, he seemed unduly surprised at my presence. Perhaps because “ran into” really is the word: I was returning home from school, tired, a heavy head and arms weighed down with assignments to grade; I literally ran into him by mistake, then stammered some banal excuse. He looked at me for a long moment: he seemed to be waiting for someone. I carried on my way.
Once inside my apartment, I took a deep breath, once more cursing my profession —I’m a Classics teacher—and I tried to set courageously to work...
I had just corrected several assignments, each one more disappointing than the previous—and thus unlikely to get my spirits up—when someone timidly knocked three times on the door.
I could guess who it was: it was him, indeed, awkward and embarrassed, eyes to the ground, not daring to lift his head up. He stood on the threshold, lost.
I curtly told him to come in. I was astonished by his visit: as a new tenant, with a rather wild nature, I had not exchanged three words with this man. What I knew of him was very vague: he was approximately sixty-five years old, a widower already for a while; he was supposed to be a real card. Some claimed he was a painter; others, a sculptor. I really didn’t care one way or the other. My only concern was how to get rid of him.
He looked at the table covered with books and papers. His face suddenly lit up.
"Ah, someone had mentioned you taught Greek..."
The tone suggested admiration. I responded in an aggravated tone.
"Yes... I teach Greek and Latin and French. I teach all sorts of stuff. So what?”
He did not answer. I thought that my icy answer would dissuade him from continuing the conversation.
“So, you teach Greek..." He shook the head. He was about to open his mouth when I snapped:
"Yes, yes and I have a lot of work!"
He seemed not to understand. He stammered:
"It is you I was waiting for a few moments ago. I surprised you, I believe. Please excuse me.”
“Me?”
“Yes... "
His face lit up again, transfigured.
"I have a passion for Greece, you know! I used to paint sets for a theater which put on Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides... and even Giraudoux... I... I kept some of the props when I left...”
I congratulated him coldly.
“And I thought that you might perhaps be interested in the odds and ends I got hold of..."
He pronounced “odds and ends” with great emotion.
“Listen... Another time, I’ve got other things…”
“Are you busy this evening? Your husband...”
“I am divorced... divorced without children. Thus, no urgent housework…”
He smiled again.
“Perfect! You can come over to my place, then. That will buck you up.”
I hesitated. He seemed like a nice enough guy. I was sorry for having been so abrupt. His sincere admiration, his touching kindness made me ashamed. I silently agreed to go.
I followed him to his apartment. In front of the door, he turned around and pronounced the ritual sentence:
“Don’t mind the disorder. You know how bachelors are.”
He led me into a room where a whole wall was covered by a fresco. It represented—in a certain kind of very bad taste—a Greece of the imagination, with an exaggeratedly blue sky, the Acropolis on the right and a landscape of olive-trees and stones, gorged with sun...
"It is beautiful, isn’t it? I painted it, three days ago to deal with some issues and catch up on wasted time..."
He sighed and shrugged.
“Do you like it, at least?
“Yes, yes, very much so. It is very realistic, you know! ...”
“Really? Oh, that makes me very happy. I have never seen Greece. I almost always paint using engravings or photographs.”
He disappeared for a few moments and returned with a used book which he must have used many times. He turned the pages and gave wordy commentary about the illustrations. One of them held his attention particularly. His hand trembled... I leaned over and saw three engravings. Of Athena, Diana and Venus. The reproduction of Venus struck me immediately. My lips outlined a smile: the whimsical engraving showed a goddess with a generous chest, a light loincloth around her waist! I kept my reflections for myself.
"Three marvelous women, aren’t they?”
The emotion made his voice tremble.
“Each one marvelous in her own way, of course. They fascinate me so much that...”
He stopped.
“I’m ashamed to admit that..."
My anger had fallen. I encouraged him:
"Continue, please...”
“Well! I can tell you... At the theatre where I worked, I had noticed the costumes of these three divinities, at the bottom of an obscure storeroom... Well... I stole them. They are here, in this apartment! Do you want to see them?"
When all is said and done, I liked this old chap! Never quite met anyone like him; a bit of a nutter. His passion for Greece, even though a little ridiculous, was quite moving.
He returned with two tunics, long, probably Athena’s, and another one that was shorter.
"Naturally, I don’t have anything for Venus... except a thin piece of fabric as in the engraving... On stage, she appeared covered by a tunic, of course! ...
“She is beautiful, isn’t she? what a marvellous body!”
Her face blushed. Her eyes shone. Her timidity had completely disappeared.
"I even have Athena’s helmet and lance. And also Diana’s arc and quiver! ...
He fell silent abruptly. This sudden silence disturbed me. The flame which had animated him seemed extinct. I did not dare to look at him. Suddenly, he began speaking again, this time in a strangled voice.
"It would suit you so well!”
“What would?”
“These clothes... the clothes of my goddesses... "
I was disconcerted. I looked at him. He swallowed his saliva with difficulty. I ended up breaking the heavy silence and the malaise created by his last words
"What do you mean?"
He looked me in the eyes. I was astonished by the limpidity of his gaze.
"I mean that the costumes of these divinities would suit you very well: Athena, Diana, Ve..."
He did not dare complete his thought. He blushed. He fixed his gaze on the fresco. I felt awfully awkward. Perhaps he had spoken the way he did out of awkwardness... He raised his head.
"I don’t want to waste your time. I... my proposal is serious. I... could you… at least for Athena and Diana?"
All of a sudden, I was afraid.
"But... you are insane! You don’t think that...”
“Oh, I understand... You think I’m some kind of pervert!"
He seemed sincerely pained. He insisted awkwardly.
"It’s not that at all. Will you think it over?"
I felt awkward. My fear had disappeared; still, this proposal seemed so astonishing to me, so strange. I stammered automatically that I would think about it and left.
The following day, somewhat angry, I again met him on the stairs, looking as bewildered as before.
"Did you think about it?”
“Think about it?”
“My... proposal. Yesterday..."
I didn’t know what to answer: was he going to follow me around every day waiting for an answer? I had answered without thinking the day before, it is true. I reflected: the idea of acting out, of playing a role had something exciting to it... There was no risk involved and ambiguity did not displease me. The awkwardness of this man finished by convincing me. I said quickly as one jumps in at the deep end.
"I agree"
He started, surprised at my answer:
"Is it true? Is it really true? When?”
“Immediately if you want.”
“OK. Excellent!”
My heart beat faster as I went into "the Greek room". A bottle of Samos Muscatel and two glasses awaited us. He filled my glass up to the rim.
"Here’s to Greece!"
My heart was still racing. A sudden warmth filled me.
“My name is Henri...."
He passed me the longest of the tunics. Henri avoided looking at me as if he was ashamed... He opened the door of a room.
“Here’s the room of... of..."
I entered and closed the door at once. The tunic was silky, soft to the touch. It looked like a nightdress. I stripped off slowly. My heart beat faster as if I were about to play some prohibited game.
I decided to remove all my clothing. It did not suit the goddess with sea-green eyes to keep her underclothing on! I advanced towards the mirror and tied my hair in order to easily slip it under the helmet. Then I opened the door.
Henri silently handed me the lance and the helmet, then moved back a few steps. Like a child, he clapped:
“Marvelous! Oh, marvelous!”
He was smiling like a kid in a candy store.
Majestically, I sauntered out in front of the scenery, lance in hand. The helmet was a bit tight but no matter. I thought confusedly about my colleagues, my students. Whatever would they have made of seeing me thus dressed up? I stopped and stood opposite him holding up my lance. He devoured me with his eyes. The goddess lived again, but for him alone…
He was blinking rapidly.
“How about we move on to Diana?"
I hesitated. Was this the magic effect of the Muscatel? Temptation was too strong, it ended up winning.
"OK. Diana."
Henri handed me the next tunic, the arc, the quiver and the arrows. Once in the room, I took off Athena’s clothes to dress as the goddess of hunting. Much shorter, the tunic came halfway down my thighs. The cut also meant I was showing cleavage. I hesitated... My heart was beating very fast. There was no time to turn back. I took a look in the mirror and made out the image of a young woman of about thirty years old. Her chest certainly visible under light fabric.
I took the arc, the quiver and some arrows... opened the door... Henri considered me with stupor, fascinated... Extremely moved, I froze on the spot: I was afraid to fall... Finally, I got up the courage, adopting an attitude worthy of the goddess. His eyes were resting on me. I did not feel embarrassed anymore. Neither one nor the other of us moved. We held our breath...
After a few long minutes, Henri spoke, in a voice strangled by emotion.
"Good... you should leave now... Thank you for everything... Until next time, perhaps... "
I nodded “No”. Surprised, he considered me without understanding.
"What do you mean? No?”
“There is still... Venus..."
His mouth opened, no sound came out. He was amazed.
"But... Venus... Look at the book..."
I looked knowing very well what I would see. The goddess was practically naked. A bit of fabric around the waist, hardly hiding her attractive forms... She seemed ready for seduction.
"I know..." I murmured. I smiled and looked him in the eyes. Blood beat in my temples. I was burning up. Fever consumed me. I repeated gently.
“There remains Venus. I want to take on this last role.”
Henri answered nothing. His lips trembled. He did not dare to believe that...
The slim bit of fabric in hand, I turned back into the room. I quickly removed Diana’s tunic. I was naked... I quickly covered myself with the bit of cloth, quickly and awkwardly. I advanced towards the mirror and contemplated myself for some time. Yes, I was Venus, she who incarnated love. I waited still... I must get my entrance exactly right. The light of the bedside lamp accentuated the transparency of the fabric. I decided to place this lamp behind me: the effect would be irresistible. I looked at myself one last time, the bare breasts, the untied hair sweeping down my shoulders... The thin bit of fabric around my waste, sitting very high on my thighs, I liked myself infinitely. School was miles away. Venus was going to be offered to her admirers...
I opened the door slowly, very slowly. At once Henri turned his head in my direction, his avid hands trembled, he opened his eyes wide, filled with wonder by the appearance of the goddess... I advanced, he looking at me, agog... As I moved, the bit of fabric untied itself and fell to my feet. His gaze penetrated me... He too advanced slowly, very slowly. His hands moved irrepressibly. I stood still. I did not even try to pick up the indecent bit of fabric. His hand lightly touched my breasts and I closed my eyes...