The Rain-maker Affair
from Short Stories
Summary
Paule stared at the doctor who had just suggested that she go on a diet. The man looked back at her, meeting her gaze, his hands stretched out on the desk in front of him, his body leaning forwards. Paule didn't cough to clear the hoarseness that had lodged in the back of her throat, didn't look away. Bertrand, she said, a touch of weariness in her voice, Bertrand, I diet all day, from six in the morning until half eight in the evening. Then I come face–to–face with my loneliness. That's when dieting becomes impossible. She fell silent. The doctor didn't say anything else, didn't say that it was just a matter of not keeping the forbidden foods in her cupboards or in the fridge. He didn't tell her that it would be good to start exercising, that there wasn't anything stopping her from going running in the Buttes Chaumont park. The man left these words unsaid, knowing how difficult it was to adopt a rational attitude in these situations. And then, Paule continued, there's the rain–maker case. You know, I told you about that. Yes, replied the doctor. Are they still falling? The woman nodded. At the beginning, it was just a shower. Now it's more like a downpour…Bertrand changed the subject, didn't ask Paule about the nightmares that she'd been having since she'd been trying to find the rain–maker, as she called him. The story made Bertrand's blood run cold. The first two incidents had been reported in the press but nothing had been written about the others, and if Paule hadn't confided in him, he wouldn't have known anything about them. No doubt there was a case for arguing that the general public shouldn't be alarmed, already oppressed as they were by the economic crisis, already suffering from anxiety in lives where nothing was certain. He tapped away rapidly at his computer keyboard and printed off a prescription. Your results are fine for now, but you still need to be careful. I'm prescribing you something to help control your sugar cravings. And something to help you sleep, if you're finding it difficult…
As she went down the stairs to the exit, Paule clung on to the banister.
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- Information
- Francophone Afropean Literatures , pp. 179 - 195Publisher: Liverpool University PressPrint publication year: 2014