The adventures of Madame Wang
A lonely woman spies on her septuagenarian neighbor's love life through her peephole. Will this neighbor's example do any good?
Like every other Thursday, Aline hears someone get out of the elevator in the hallway of the floor where she lives. She doesn't even need to look at her watch to know the time: it's 7:30pm. Curiosity is stronger than respect for other people's lives and she goes to peek through the peephole in the door. There he is, as elegant as ever. Today he's wearing a navy blue linen suit, cognac-colored loafers and a beautiful silk scarf around his neck. His panama hat flutters impatiently in his hand, while Aline's neighbor is slow to open the door. She finally welcomes her visitor with the cooing of a pigeon and languid gestures that shake her silk dress like the sail of a boat sailing on a calm sea.
“Fleur de Rocaille,” says Aline, recognizing the wave of perfume that seeps through the cracks in her door as the bustle in the hall finally calms down. “Even the perfume is old. And she returns to her post in front of the sink counter, where she sets about chopping with redoubled energy the piece of rump, the carrots and the potatoes laid out on the board. She then hears the couple's footsteps as they rush up the iron steps of the spiral staircase that leads to the terrace of her neighbor's luxurious apartment. Her heels soon echo across the ceiling of Aline's apartment, as she turns up the television and closes the windows to hear her own thoughts. “Fucking loft,” she says after a few minutes, feeling suffocated by the summer heat and the steam from the pans. The foggy window panes make the small space where she lives even more unbearable.
After half an hour fighting the nerves of the rump and the mound of garbage scattered around her, she finally covers the pot of stew, throws the peelings through the door of the garbage dumpster installed in the kitchen wall and opens all the windows again. Through the door of the living room balcony comes a late summer afternoon breeze and the chirping of crickets from the garden of the condominium where she lives. By this time, there are no children downstairs. Everyone around her is enjoying the warmth of home this late afternoon, after a long day of work and sports. The joyful sounds of families reuniting, home-made birthday celebrations and children's fights carry through the building's inconspicuous walls. Aline mumbles and her eyes wander around the room looking for the stereo remote control. When she finally finds it, she's already lost the will.
Aline approaches the iron railing of the bar. The sound of wine glasses clattering against the terrace table above and Madame Wang's crystal-clear laughter come through clearly, accompanied by the clink of cutlery against the crockery. “Are they having dinner so early? Does she hire a catering service to provide dinner? I can't imagine this chic woman stinking of fried food just the day she meets her lover,” she says to herself. She then decides to open the bottle of white wine she keeps in the fridge. She was no longer in the mood for stew, she would have preferred something lighter on a hot day like this, something suitable for a romantic dinner.
“A romantic dinner... Gee, it's been so long since the last time, I wouldn't even know how to behave anymore,” she mumbles in a strained voice. Drinking a whole bottle of wine on an empty stomach wasn't a good idea and now she's paying the price in the form of a splitting headache. Then she realizes that the pipes running uncovered through the ceiling of her apartment have begun to rumble as water flows into her neighbor's apartment. When the noise of the water didn't seem to want to end, it finally ceased, only to be replaced by an even more disturbing noise: the motor of the neighbor's Jacuzzi. Aline then raises her glass in a toast, her eyes glued to the kitchen ceiling, at the exact point where the motor noise comes from.
“For me to be able to enjoy life like Madame Wang in 30 years' time, something has to change in my current life,” she says aloud to the walls. In a decisive move, she opens the door of the bathroom cupboard and frantically searches for the medicine box. She finally finds the paracetamol tablets and swallows one of them. She puts the rest of the tablets in her bag. She changes out of her stay-at-home clothes into a short skirt and a low-cut blouse and slams the door. The night is still young and anything can happen.
Translated with DeepL.com (free version)
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