I've never thought that my life would
fall apart if I didn't have a child. I never said that. I wouldn't "sink
into eternal sorrow," as certain members of the press like to repeat. But
even so, I was waiting for it, looking for it, and making it part of my plans. During tours, I stop
ovulating completely for months. Each time I am late, I make up little movies
where I'm experiencing spells of nausea, where I take a pregnancy test, and
where I can see close-ups of Rene's face as he learns I'm pregnant and takes me
in his arms. For a long time I've
thought I would have a girl. I created some very precise images other. And I
quickly wrote her some small roles. I always have her with me in my dressing
room and on board the plane. She's very jovial. During the sound test, she
comes onstage near roe. All the musicians and technicians are crazy about her.
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For some time as well, I saw a boy. Unlike my daughter, he was very reserved, almost timid. He didn't come to see me onstage. He waited for me very quietly in the wings. He was dressed like a little European boy, with golf shoes and short pants. I took him to the shops with me and bought him clothes. He was very independent, very secretive. Every time that he became distant, my heart broke. But I loved him for that also, for his coldness, his indifference.
Little by little, after the first chemo treatment, everything Rene ate began to taste like sludge, chalk, or iron, and he lost the desire to eat. He had periods of nausea, moments of great fatigue, and deep sadness. He'd stopped playing golf. The only time he went out was for his treatments.
Anne-Marie, Linda, Alain, and I watched over him day and night. He was sometimes irritated, I think. But we forced him to take a nap, then to do a little exercise, and to eat even if he wasn't at all hungry.
Alain prepared light and varied meals that were less spicy than he usually cooked. Rene made a big effort, but soon he could only swallow purees. At the end, any odor turned his stomach. For days, he only ate sorbets or ice cream—"nothing," Alain said—or drank a very weak tea.
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