Episode 10: Catharsis II, of the pavement mainly
Claudette, living on a fruit diet since 1965, was in the solarium, getting one of those permanent tans Belgians of the Haute Bourgeoisie bear the whole year through, one that resembles more to orange than brown in the colour scale, before they get melanoma cancer. Dressed perfectly, avenue-Louise-style, she had been driven already at 06.30 (with age she had started waking up very early) by the official limousine driver of a black Mercedes 500, nothing less, to the most expensive solarium of Downtown, where they had a kindergarten for their customers' pets, in her case a nasty little dog called Moustache. "Moustache! Taisez-vous!", she'd yell to him when, frenzied by their Laura Ashley penthouse and all the limitations that this meant, the poor animal dared to bark.
But it made her feel guilty -she hated having to show any emotion at all, a thing she easier achieved with 3 Botox injections on each cheek per week- and she always gave him bonbons afterwards and kissed him.
In five minutes, Claudette and Moustache were on the spot as well. Moustache got very excited (he had not been out for the last three months), while Claudette fainted almost immediately.
"Zouzou, excusez-moi, j'ai un malaise, je crains ne pas pouvoir vous aider cette fois", she said to her husband, and emptied her stomach on the boots of the nearest police agent that looked helplessly.
There was no one else to call.
Rachida, which stood by all this time, seemed to be the only thinking person among those people that looked so perplexed at the screen of their mobile phones, as if the solution would come texted.
"Moussieur, jpeux vous parler un anstant?", she asked the Big Big Boss.
The BBB hated having to speak to inferior people, but this was exceptional. His sympathetic think tank of (almost) equal to him human beings had reached its limits without bearing fruit, apart from the ones that Claudette had laid on the feet of the police agent when she vomited, and any idea would be welcome.
"Vous avez vu cette statue, là bas?" said Rachida to the BBB. "Elle est vide! Je les ai vu la transporter hier, y a rien dedans, j' en suis certaine, si vous voyez ce que je veux dire!.."
And what they say about people in need that always find a means to communicate is true. He DID understand, and in less than thirty minutes the statue was taken down and filled.
With Claus...
Rachida took over the pavement cleaning and soon the traffic resumed normally, as if nothing had happened, Claudette was driven back to the Solarium, to the big disappointment of Moustache, the police agents left the scene and felt proud they had done their job so well once again, the BB went for a beer and the BBB returned to the Parliament, where he spoke strictly to no one about what had happened, as he had clearly ordered all others witnesses to do:
"Si jamais j'apprends que quelqu' un parmi vous a sorti même un mot sur ce qui s' est passé, je l' envois re-ouvrir les mines de Charleroi. Est-ce que c' est clair?"
But they had not counted on me, the practically toothless cleaning lady working morning hours in the glass LEX building . I saw everything. And I know who that boy is.
I am Lola Popov, born in a failed country that never managed to feed its people. Some people still remember me back there under my real name, Kruella Choukroutszch. I am the mother of Olga. How would I not recognize my grand son?
Of course, Olga and her mania for grandeurs never let me tell the boy who I really was, a poor lady whose only means of being near the ones she loved was as a nanny, and it does not matter anymore. At least now I have in this country someone I know, since he was born, someone that I have held in my hands, before they grew old and tired, when he still was a baby, one that will never, ever betray me or leave me anymore: Claus, the statue under the LEX building.
Claus, the man in the statue…