Mademoiselle Julia – Chapter Three

I Won an Oscar again Last night.
I believe I had just finished cleaning the bathroom, and I badly needed to wear the mottled long dress I haven't had the chance to sew yet.

I needed to appear in front of the hundreds of people who have filled the vast room.

The scene repeats itself every night, the minute I finish cleaning the bathroom.

I was well aware that they would clap for long minutes.
I could hear the sound of their happy tears, as they clapped fiercely, watching me cry silently.

You see, all my life I cried silently.
In order not to bother you.

Suddenly my side look is searching for a young woman I used to be for a fleeting moment, before life crushed me repeatedly and forced me to wear a dress made out of bitterness I wisely used in order to face your frequent departure.

And my inability to see my worth.

I knew from the start, that you never loved me.

I won an Oscar again last night.
My back was aching, and my neck as stiff as your heart.

My side look was rewriting the storyline of a life I was too much of a coward to live.

So I chose to remain in the corner for long, lifeless years.
Watching those who succeeded in taming their inner demons.

I smiled as I usually do when I finish cleaning the bathroom.

After I dutifully fulfilled my parents' endless requests.

I patiently waited for my invisible enemies who diligently visit me in order to scatter the transient serenity that sweeps me when I get ready to win an Oscar.

And I roam the empty streets of a city I no longer belong to.
But the stray dogs and cats need me.
They remind me of that fact daily with their sad eyes.
And I feed them with my hungry heart.
I watch them die.
Others become ill.
And I do my best to save them, in the same way I am desperately praying for someone to save me.

I cannot end this way.

And somewhere inside the labyrinth of my soul, lives a very impolite dancer named Martha.
I open the door for her at times in order to breathe.
I live through her ferocious eyes.

A little bit of freedom, if you please.

And she thanks me sweetly when I have the courage to let her take over the second and last part of my life.

Suddenly I am in the operation room.

Doctors, nurses.

I am having my uterus cleaned.
A small dose of epidural is administered to my body, for the country is in shortage of medical equipment.
I start to sing an old Arabic song.
I can feel the equipment dive deep inside my body.
The doctors start to sing with me.

I laugh.

All my life I have laughed away my sorrows.

Then, it's over.

The old Doctor bends over as I drift between consciousness and a world I created a long time ago.

"You will be fine. You are stronger than you think you are".

And the impolite dancer named Martha waits patiently in her high heels, for her time to shine.

But don't worry, Sir.
If you are looking for a reserved, quiet, meaningless woman who cleans the house and cooks, acts properly in front of your overbearing, constipated parents, I am the one for you.

It is another day in a life I haven't lived yet.
And I visit the Chapters of Love.
I wait for the small sighs that announce the visit of beginnings.

And then the night comes, and my parents and I sit in total darkness as the city that died a few months ago prepares itself for another lonely night.

The emperor who once was is now a frightened ordinary man living through his regrets in the same manner I am living through the memories I have not created yet.

A small house, and a young fifty year old dreamer.
Who still dreams.

And I tell my stories to the moon.
I assure him that I will be okay.
I sip a little bit of Champagne, and I whisper:
"Please get me out of here".
In my country they laugh at my dreams, at my inability to belong or conform.
They look down at my love for life.
They want me to die twice, you see.

They are afraid of being accused of wanting to live before they die.

And I write short stories about lovers who still believe in the magic of beginnings.

I write about a heroine who dances naked in all the love stories she lives.

But stories that don't really happen are also love stories.

I spy on lovers who still have the strength to laugh.

I live through them.

My name is Mademoiselle Julia.
I do not exist.

I live inside the mind of a woman who lives on the Fringes of life.

Tonight I have won my memories with this cold scene that has become my city.

A year without stories.

What a punishment.

And he doesn't want me anymore.
But that night, the moon was over us.
We sat on the balcony for hours.

I won an Oscar again last night.
"Whoever you are, thank you for giving a fifty year old dreamer the chance to get out of the corner for once in her life. I shall remember you fondly, rest assured".

A month after the explosion.

My father returned home after long days and nights in the hospital.
The wolf he once was has aged.
His eyes are lost.
Frightened.
He looks at my face for hours in order to hang on to a world, he has drifted away from.

And he will never finish building his house.

The little girl I remained for 49 years is suddenly old.

And you are no longer here so I fight it all out with your moodiness.

In all cases, we both know that our story is long gone.

Yet summer stories are rarely forgotten.

He doesn't want me anymore.

But I need his shadow in order to escape the emperor who has now turned into an ordinary man.

Here I am facing the world for the first time in my life.

Please get me out of here.

But the stray dogs and cats need me.

I feed them and I sing for them.
At times, I wait quietly as they wither away and die, knowing that they are not alone.

(To Be Continued).