| Zero
Storm |
One
Common Drama |
Two
for One |
Three
Pivotal Years |
Four
Generations |
Five
Ring Circus |
| Subject: | From dreams to reality |
| Date: | Tuesday, March 3, 1998 21:43:58 +0100 |
| From: | Jérôme |
| To: | Silvana |
I did not try to call to day. It is late enough now that I am afraid of waking up the kids. I had a very active day.
4h30 in the morning. Dreams, wispy as ever, start forming around my mother's medical dossiers, hers and Catherine's... In particular, a question surrounds what occurred in the spring of 1959: what was the cause of the abortion? I consult two doctors: one is unknown to me, the other is Claude Pilon, a high school mate who actually succeeded in reaching his childhood dream of becoming a cardiologist. He also practices at the hospital where mom was treated - no, not in my dream, in real life!. When Claude heard of my story, he proposed to help me out with the medical past. That is how he became part of the cast of my dream.
But dreams hate solitude and love to dance with reality. Sub-consciously, something plays along. I am reasoning quite clearly in my dream... then I slowly awake, without losing the train of thought. Going back to sleep is out of the question.
Gradually, brain cells network. They start by relaying what the doctors were anlaysing:
- Tight money. Health problems. A still-born child (or spontaneous abortion... not sure). All after a failed marriage.
- Mother, clearly enamoured of Paul, would have a hard time digesting the loss of her second child. One can sense weakness encroaching. [I start awakening at this point].
- Then in February 1960, my father leaves her. He returns to America.
- She follows Paul: for him, for her Green Card. Given the choppiness of the relationship (even Phil described it as "...an ugly scene"), it is not ludicrous to have Catherine securely pursue her education in France.
- And she had fallen head over heels for Paul, no?
My birth destroys her chances at a normal family life with Paul. The pain of having two children of failed relationships may be too great to bear. With few resources, she carved out a smaller world, one she could handle, around me.
This explains why she also never had any other serious relationship. Why go down a beaten path... one child was already de facto abandoned? I guess I was lucky not to suffer the same fate as my sister.
11h30. City clerk's office, Antony, France. I come to update their records because of her passing. I need to inquire about her past. I get a copy of her record. More confirmations. New elements too. Her father is officially unknown.
The place of birth is also indicated. The agent shows me the way, two streets down. Rue des Verrières.
Go!
14h30. Sister Anne-Marie, who is the guardian of the records, greets me graciously. She tells me all she can:
- My grand mother is Henriette Pierrette Marchand, as the civil documents show. Nothing is secret about that.
- Her date of birth is Aug-8-1910 (the records at Antony state Aug-9-1910)?
- Henriette came to these nuns on May 10,1929 to hide her pregnancy hidden from the outside world and bear her child. This establishment of Saint-Raphaël respects these mothers' choices and accompanies them discreetly. A discretion which was honorably maintained.
- Henriette left the establishment with Bernadette in her arms. Thus, officially, she had recognized child. According to the records, she did not go through any adoption process, at the time of birth of the child in any case.
- Henriette had two sisters. Marie-Louise Marchand, living at 61, avenue de Sufresne, and Mme. Pierre Tremblay of 71, rue de Flandre Paris XIXe.
- Henriette's last address before coming there was at Mme Pleigne's 27, rue Marbeuf - no mention of any city.
I am unsure whether I should be inquiring along the lines of these great grand aunts. This news about the past, objective and true, is pushing me in another direction. Deep inside, the 'Monnoyeur' name intrigues me. To me, that is the hottest lead.
When I questioned my mother about my surname, she said it was not my father's:
Oh, so 'Camus' is your maiden name?No.Huh? what then is your maiden name?Monnoyeur...[ducking the smoke screens again]Ahhhh... OK...
So I turn the Minitel on an look up all the Monnoyeurs of the Paris region. And other numbers too.
16h30. I get confirmation from the City Clerk's office of Mamers that Henriette Marchand is deceased... Too bad, she certainly could have filled in all the blanks. I will get a Certificate of her civil status nonetheless; who knows if it will not relinquish some clues...
I have had a hunch these past few days (I keep hunches inside until they firm up somehow). Now it gains credence. Many things point to an adoption, although Bernadette left the Congregation in her mother's arms. The stories of my mother's family - her father, her sisters, her older sister who brought her up - all these details stayed coherent over the years. Truth cannot be far away. Now her sister, that was 20 years older than her, compares to her real mother, who was 19 when she gave birth... If this family was clearly the one she knew, then she was adopted early.
Did my mother ever know she was not in her family? How did she take it?
Late Evening. I gather all the C Camus in France with a published phone number. I call them - on impulse, no middleman. The list is a long one, a process of elimination. I will never finish this while in Paris - and the long distance charges could be prohibitive: an endurance run.
Who cares? I am in no hurry. I will end up finding her. And it may be a good thing not to find her too fast; I want to know as many facts as possible before confronting people, their opinions, their memories, their bad blood... "Go slow, you'll get there faster..."
Ah yes... I almost forgot. Yesterday afternoon, I went looking for the address on one of my mother's membership cards. I came up empty. The maps of Malakoff do not show that street. I suspect that in the sixties, when they had this urge to build housing projects, they tore down entire streets, including hers. I did not have enough time to check with City Hall, that will be for another time. In any case, if the street is not there any more...
It has been a long one. I am starting to crumble now.
Jérôme