Page 107 of Where the Snakes Sleep

She made me promise that if anything happened, Camille would know his mother did not abandon him.

I am writing it here because promises seem to become unreliable once they leave my mouth.

If I fail everything else, I must not fail that.

* * *

2 August 2003

Nadia is gone.

I have written the sentence fourteen times.

It does not become comprehensible.

Nadia is gone.

Her husband has called Le Mas repeatedly. His name is Alain.

Henri says she left voluntarily and told Alain as such. He says Nadia had become unstable. He says she was unhappy in her marriage. He says perhaps she took money. He says perhaps she had a lover.

Lies.

I know they are lies because some of them contradict one another, and because Henri does not care. He is not trying to discover what happened. He is creating explanations.

I asked him where she was, and he said, “Do not do this, Alberte.”

Not “I don’t know.”

Not “she is safe.”

Do not do this.

I asked whether he hurt her.

He slapped me. Henri has never struck me before. We stared at one another afterward, both shocked.

He apologized, but I still left for the cottage. What frightens me most is that he did not stop me.

* * *

5 August 2003

I went back to Le Mas to retrieve my belongings, and most importantly, my passport, but truly, I just wanted to allow him a chance to explain.

I wanted Henri to take my face in his hands and tell me I was wrong.

I wanted some impossible sentence that would return us to the people we had been.

Instead, he asked whether I was finished being dramatic.

Something inside me broke.

I never imagined love could end while still existing.

That is the cruelty. I still love him.

I believe I may be incapable of ever falling out of love with him, even if he has become a monster.