“I am the eldest of three daughters. Corinne is two years younger than me, and Florence twelve years younger. She is the youngest and, in my opinion, the favorite. She did everything right where my sister and I failed to satisfy our parents. My father had led a scientific career, and wanted us to follow his path. He wanted me to become an engineer. As a child, I was more interested in books and drawings. He tore them up to push me towards math. Without success: I ended up doing a literary job, after a tormented and stormy adolescence. Corinne, it’s even worse. She was bad at school. My parents, I often heard them say that they had “does everything[ils ont] could” for her. She has a great job, she works in care. But that’s not what they expected.
Florence was the model little girl. An adolescence almost without waves, a business school, a job as a senior executive: she fulfilled the narcissistic contract with our parents. Corinne and I were the drafts.
When our father died in 2008, the three of us took turns to support Mom in her widowhood. At Christmas, the following year, I was at her house, in her house by the sea, when she received a phone call from Corinne. I hear my sister screaming on the line. “I’m in the car, I just got a message from Florence, I need to see you right away. It is not going well at all.”
Five minutes later, she arrives. We are sitting in the living room, Corinne arrives screaming. She wants to play the message to mom. In essence, Florence asks her to break up with the man she loves on the pretext that she had promised Mom to take care of her until the end of her days, when Dad died. Corinne belches, asks mom for explanations, who says nothing and slumps a bit. In his beard, I hear our mother whisper: “Maybe I had something to do with it.” Corinne doesn’t hear him, and she leaves, very angry.
“My daughter, don’t fall in love”
I find myself alone with my mother. I understand that it was she who spoke to Florence, she complained about Corinne’s unavailability. I tell her she needs to clear things up, talk to my sisters. I also tell her that she cannot make such a request of her daughter. That Corinne won’t abandon her no matter what – whether or not she has a mate doesn’t change that. Behind this request, which may seem strange, hides another part of our family history. Recently, Corinne had been in love. But my mother was afraid of the passions. She always told us: “A party of legs in the air, it never hurt anyone. But don’t fall in love.” My sister and I are quite passionate. We have desires, infatuations, and I always had the feeling that it bothered our mother. Corinne in love, my mother was afraid that she would no longer fulfill her role as carer for her – a role to which she was assigned, because of her profession.
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