“I have no memory of living together with my father. He was working overseas and would be gone for weeks at a time. My mother was a drawing teacher. She managed to raise my two younger sisters and me while working – she always wanted to maintain financial independence, even if it was complicated.
When he wasn’t there, we were girls. We lived our lives the way we wanted. At home, there was our little mess – not a bad one, because our mother was a tidy woman. Drawings, knitting, dolls… in short, our stuff. When he returned, there was revolution. We had to clean up the space, clear out the living room, tidy up the entrance, shake up even the slightest of our habits. He arrived and exclaimed: “The wild animals, in the cage! », and the rest of us, the three girls, disappeared into our rooms. He took his place again. Sometimes he would be there for a week, then leave for months.
All I wanted was for him to go away. I know that my sisters didn’t necessarily experience it the way I did. I didn’t find him sympathetic and he scared me. He wasn’t interested in us. He never sought to create an emotional bond. To please him, you had to be spicy, have wit and, above all, good grades. It was like in the king’s court, like in this movie, Ridiculous [1996]where courtiers must compete in witticisms to attract the favors of Louis XVI.
In the evening, he invited people. My mother, who undoubtedly admired and loved him very much, went out of her way for him. I found her docile, obedient. On those evenings, we were allowed to make a brief appearance in front of the guests and pass them peanuts. As a joke, he nicknamed us “slaves no. 1, 2 and 3”and our mother was “favorite slave”. Then the three of us were asked to return to our rooms. Our mother never complained or criticized him. She thought we were too harsh on him, and that irritated me. She was a foundation for us, and did everything to make us love and respect our father.
“Christmas present… turnips and leeks”
But today, when I see a dad taking his child to the swimming pool, or helping him ride a bike, I can’t help but think that mine would never have done that. One of the few specific memories I have of my early childhood with him is a Christmas with my paternal grandparents. I was 4 or 5 years old. He left me a large, poorly wrapped package in newspaper at the foot of the tree. At the time, I really liked sugar, I had a sweet tooth. I open it, and find turnips and leeks inside. It was a joke. I remember my mother telling him: “Oh, still, you’re exaggerating, that’s not very nice!” »
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