J\u2019ai si peu, si peu de regrets. \u00c0 vrai dire, je n\u2019en ai qu\u2019un seul, mais il s\u2019av\u00e8re plus gros que la plus grosse montagne du monde. Vous qui me connaissez si bien maintenant, vous devez vous en douter. Ce seul regret, que j\u2019ai pass\u00e9 ma vie \u00e0 essayer d\u2019oublier, c\u2019est d\u2019avoir accept\u00e9 d\u2019\u00e9pouser cet homme qui m\u2019avait vite s\u00e9duite et engross\u00e9e; devenant le p\u00e8re de mes trois enfants. Notre union et mon calvaire auront dur\u00e9 treize longues ann\u00e9es jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que je trouve le courage de m\u2019enfuir du logis avec mes trois petits. Ce matin, pour la derni\u00e8re, derni\u00e8re fois, je ressasse cette \u00e9poque et je vide mon sac. J\u2019ass\u00e8che mes larmes. Je veux clore ce douloureux chapitre.<\/p>\n
Pour commencer, ses deux fr\u00e8res ont migr\u00e9 dans notre magnifique pays les premiers, travaillant d\u2019abord comme laveurs de vaisselle dans un restaurant, puis apprentis cuisiniers, et \u00e9ventuellement comme cuisiniers. Deux ou trois ann\u00e9es plus tard, chacun d\u2019eux devenait patron de son propre restaurant.<\/p>\n
Le h\u00e9ros de notre histoire, cet homme venu d\u2019ailleurs et qui se croyait \u00eatre un de ces dieux mythiques de l\u2019ancienne Gr\u00e8ce que le peuple v\u00e9n\u00e9rait jadis, fut le troisi\u00e8me et dernier de la fratrie \u00e0 mettre le pied en sol qu\u00e9b\u00e9cois. Venant tout juste de terminer son service militaire grec, le bel Adonis refusa cat\u00e9goriquement de laver de la vaisselle ou, pire, de cuisiner. Ce jeune fringant insista aupr\u00e8s de ses fr\u00e8res pour devenir patron. C\u2019est donc ainsi, avec son grade de colonel et sa belle gueule d\u2019acteur de cin\u00e9ma, qu\u2019il s\u2019empara du troisi\u00e8me restaurant que ses deux a\u00een\u00e9s convoitaient. Les deux restaurateurs ont avanc\u00e9 l\u2019argent n\u00e9cessaire au plus jeune qui insista pour changer le nom de l\u2019\u00e9tablissement en le nommant \u00ab\u00a0Toison d\u2019or\u00a0\u00bb. Allait-il se remplir les poches d\u2019or, lui qui en r\u00eavait infiniment?<\/p>\n
Moi, la jeune fille qui avait fait de grandes \u00e9tudes classiques et qui se retrouvait d\u00e9j\u00e0 avec un poupon accroch\u00e9 \u00e0 son sein, je savais que cet Adonis ne s\u2019enrichirait gu\u00e8re. Il exigeait que je lui pr\u00e9pare cinq ou six caf\u00e9s d\u2019affil\u00e9e qui refroidissaient avant qu\u2019il puisse se lever. Lui qui dormait jusqu\u2019\u00e0 midi, arrivait \u00e0 son resto apr\u00e8s l\u2019heure de pointe du lunch. Il s\u2019y rendait surtout pour ouvrir la caisse enregistreuse et s\u2019emparer des gros billets. J\u2019avais vitement appris \u00e0 le conna\u00eetre. Quelquefois, il rentrait les poches pleines, alors qu\u2019en d\u2019autres occasions, ses dettes de cartes m\u2019emp\u00eachaient d\u2019acheter une pinte de lait.<\/p>\n
Cela avait aussi pour effet de nous faire d\u00e9m\u00e9nager quasi aussi souvent qu\u2019il changeait de chemise; ses amis l\u2019aidaient, mes petits pleuraient \u00e0 l\u2019id\u00e9e de quitter un jeune voisin. Il m\u2019arrivait de devoir ass\u00e9cher le plancher de la cuisine lorsqu\u2019un orage tambourinait sur le toit trou\u00e9 du logis. Toutes ces ann\u00e9es noires v\u00e9cues dans des logements miteux o\u00f9 nous cohabitions avec des bestioles, je les ai pass\u00e9es avec cet incommensurable besoin d\u2019amour que mon c\u0153ur affam\u00e9 ressentait.<\/p>\n
\u00ab\u00a0Dimanche, pourrions-nous aller chez grand-p\u00e8re?\u00a0\u00bb, demandait le plus vieux. L\u2019ogre trouvait toujours un pr\u00e9texte pour aller ailleurs. Il pr\u00e9tendait que nous le visiterions d\u2019ici une semaine ou deux, mais l\u2019automobile n\u2019a jamais pris la route vers la maison de mes parents. Pour distraire les enfants, il promettait des sorties, mais il ne nous a m\u00eame jamais amen\u00e9s piqueniquer sur le Mont-Royal.<\/p>\n
Le poulet cuisait et mes larmes sal\u00e9es bien souvent l\u2019aromatisaient. Assise sur le petit balcon avec mon th\u00e9 refroidi, j\u2019essayais d\u2019interroger le ma\u00eetre d\u2019en haut pour comprendre mon sort. \u00c9tait-ce la cons\u00e9quence \u00e0 endurer pour avoir commis le p\u00e9ch\u00e9 avant le mariage? J\u2019avais v\u00e9cu la procr\u00e9ation de mon premier enfant sans m\u00eame savoir que ce que l\u2019homme me faisait ce soir-l\u00e0 \u00e9tait en fait le fameux p\u00e9ch\u00e9 de la chair.<\/p>\n
Durant toutes ces ann\u00e9es de mariage, mon \u00e2me souffrait, mon c\u0153ur s\u2019imaginait encha\u00een\u00e9 \u00e0 perp\u00e9tuit\u00e9. Je n\u2019ai jamais su ce que signifiait le mot \u00ab\u00a0amour\u00a0\u00bb, sauf lorsque je tenais mes b\u00e9b\u00e9s dans mes bras.<\/p>\n
J\u2019aurais voulu d\u00e9crire mon chagrin avec de vrais mots, une plume et de l\u2019encre, mais tout cela m\u2019\u00e9tait strictement d\u00e9fendu. Cet ogre venu d\u2019ailleurs m\u2019interdisait de lire et d\u2019\u00e9crire. \u00ab\u00a0Les femelles, disait-il, ne sont que les servantes du ma\u00eetre de la maison\u00a0\u00bb. \u00c9maci\u00e9e, pi\u00e9tin\u00e9e, souvent \u00e9vid\u00e9e de tout sentiment, je voguais \u00e0 la d\u00e9rive telle une \u00e9pave entre deux ouragans de larmes.<\/p>\n
Pendant mes ann\u00e9es avec lui, je n\u2019ai jamais ri de bon c\u0153ur, visit\u00e9 mes parents, conduit l\u2019automobile, \u00e9t\u00e9 au cin\u00e9ma, ou m\u00eame rougi mes l\u00e8vres ou bleui mes paupi\u00e8res. Affam\u00e9e de tendresse, je suppliais cette aride vie de me prendre dans ses bras. Au lieu de me dire des mots doux, l\u2019ogre me gavait de ses fredaines, comptant devant moi le nombre de femmes qu\u2019il avait honor\u00e9es. Moi la servante, moi la chose, moi la fente. Sans le vouloir, je devais lui ouvrir lorsqu\u2019il cognait. Mon corps saignait, mon c\u0153ur pleurait.<\/p>\n
Lorsqu\u2019il sortait le soir, attif\u00e9 de ses plus belles fringues, mon pauvre c\u0153ur tant\u00f4t mollissait, tant\u00f4t durcissait. Je le trouvais tellement beau. Tant de fois, mon c\u0153ur passait de la joie \u00e0 la peine, mon corps oscillant entre vivre et survivre. Il suffisait d\u2019un seul mot de travers ou d\u2019une seule phrase \u00e9crite quelque part pour que la peur que l\u2019ogre me frappe s\u2019installe.<\/p>\n
\u2026<\/p>\n
J\u2019ai \u00e9crit les lignes plus haut il y a un bon moment d\u00e9j\u00e0. Je souhaitais me d\u00e9partir de ces vieilles blessures et enfin les laisser aller aux quatre vents avant que mon \u00e2me ne s\u2019envole.<\/p>\n
Entretemps, le p\u00e8re de mes enfants est d\u00e9c\u00e9d\u00e9. Il a probablement rejoint les anciens dieux de l\u2019Olympe. Je me questionne \u00e0 savoir si ce que je vous ai r\u00e9v\u00e9l\u00e9 \u00e0 propos de lui et de notre mariage lui fermera les portes du paradis. J\u2019esp\u00e8re que non. M\u00eame s\u2019il a \u00e9t\u00e9 la cause de plusieurs de mes malheurs, c\u2019est gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 lui si je vis aujourd\u2019hui entour\u00e9e de mes enfants, de mes petits-enfants et de mes arri\u00e8re-petits-enfants.<\/p>\n
J\u2019esp\u00e8re que son \u00e2me trouvera la paix que notre mariage n\u2019a jamais connue.<\/p>\n
Qu\u2019il repose en paix.<\/p>\n
Cora
\n\u2665\ufe0f<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
J\u2019ai si peu, si peu de regrets. \u00c0 vrai dire, je n\u2019en […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":414,"featured_media":75614,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-75612","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lettre-mme-cora"],"acf":{"img_en":"","contenu_en":"I have very few regrets. Just one in all honesty, but it\u2019s bigger than the world\u2019s highest mountain. You know me so well by now, so you must have an idea. My only regret is the one I\u2019ve tried to forget all my life: to have agreed to marry the man who seduced and impregnated me, and fathered my three children. Our marriage and my ordeal lasted 13\u00a0long years until the day I mustered the courage to escape our home with the three kids. This morning, for the very last time, I go back to that period and empty my bag. I dry my tears. I want to finally close this painful chapter.\r\n\r\nHis two brothers migrated to our wonderful country, working in a restaurant as dishwashers at first, then apprentice cooks, and eventually, as cooks. Two or three years later, each one had their own restaurant.\r\n\r\nThe hero of our story, this man from the Old Word who believed himself to be a revered mythical god of Ancient Greece, was the third and last brother to set foot on Canadian soil. Having just finished his Greek military service, the handsome Adonis categorically refused to wash dishes or, worse, cook. The dashing young man convinced his brothers that he should immediately wear the boss\u2019 shoes. And so, with his colonel\u2019s ranking and good looks, he became the manager of the third restaurant his brothers had an eye on. The two restaurateurs lent their younger sibling the money to buy the restaurant. He renamed it \u201cGolden Fleece.\u201d Was he going to fill his pockets with gold? He certainly dreamt enough about getting rich.\r\n\r\nI, the young girl who\u2019d studied the ancient classics and was already nursing a child, knew this Adonis wouldn\u2019t get rich. He insisted I prepare five or six coffees for him in the morning, all which were left untouched and cold. He slept until noon and made his way to the restaurant after the busy lunch hour. He mainly went to take the biggest bills from the cash register. I quickly got to know his habits. Sometimes, he\u2019d come home with loads of cash in his pocket, and on other occasions, his debts from playing cards meant I couldn\u2019t buy a pint of milk.\r\n\r\nThis habit of his meant we had to move as often as he changed the clothes on his back; his friends helping him, my kids crying at the thought of leaving a friend next door. Sometimes I had to dry the kitchen floor when a storm beat down on the leaky roof over our heads. I spent all these dark years living in shabby, vermin-infested apartments with an insatiable need for love gnawing at my hungry heart.\r\n\r\n\u201cCan we go visit Grandpa on Sunday?\u201d\u00a0the oldest would ask. The ogre always found an excuse to go elsewhere. He said we would visit him in a week or two, but the car never took the road to my parents\u2019 house. To distract the kids, he promised all sorts of outings, but he never even took us to Mount Royal Park for a picnic.\r\n\r\nMy salty tears often seasoned the chicken I was cooking. Seated on the small balcony with my cold tea, I\u2019d try to question the master above to understand my fate. Was this the outcome I had to endure for committing sin before marriage? I didn\u2019t know that what the man did to me that night when my first child was conceived was in fact the sin of the flesh.\r\n\r\nDuring all these wedded years, my soul suffered, my heart thought it would be a prisoner for life. I never knew what the word \u201clove\u201d meant, except when I held my babies in my arms.\r\n\r\nI wished I could describe my sorrow with real words, with pen and ink, but I was strictly prohibited from doing so. This ogre from a faraway world forbade me to read and write. \u201cFemales are nothing but the servants of the master of the house,\u201d he\u2019d say. Emaciated, trampled upon, often emptied of all feeling, I drifted like a wreck between two hurricanes of tears.\r\n\r\nDuring the years I stayed with him, I never burst with laughter, visited my parents, drove the car, went to the movies, applied lipstick or eyeshadow. Starving for tenderness, I begged this parched life to take me in her arms. Instead of whispering sweet nothings in my ear, the ogre told me about his flings, counting in front of me the number of women he\u2019d slept with. I was merely the servant, the thing and the slit. Against my will, I had to open whenever he knocked. My body bled, my heart cried.\r\n\r\nWhen he went out at night dressed in his finest clothes, my heart sometimes softened, sometimes hardened. I found him so handsome. Countless times, my heart went from happiness to sorrow, my body swinging between living and surviving. All it took was one wrong word or a sentence written down somewhere and I\u2019d be seized by fear of being struck by the ogre.\r\n\r\n\u2026\r\n\r\nI wrote these lines a while ago, wanting to rid myself of the old wounds and finally scatter them in the wind before my soul takes flight.\r\n\r\nMy children\u2019s father has since passed away. He probably joined the ancient gods of Olympus. I wonder if what I\u2019ve shared about him and our marriage will close Heaven\u2019s doors to him. I hope not. Although he was the source of so much of my misfortune, I am surrounded by my children, grandkids and great grandkids because of him.\r\n\r\nI hope his soul finds the peace that our marriage never knew.\r\n\r\nMay he rest in peace.\r\n\r\nCora\r\n\u2665\ufe0f"},"yoast_head":"\n