Chapter 7
289 Words
Chapter 71983The little boy stood on his tiptoes to look inside the window. The glass was fogged up with condensation because Aline, the cleaning lady, was washing some curtains in the big metal sink and using gallons of boiling water. Billows of steam rose up from the sink, obscuring her face. But it was not Aline’s face that Laurent was looking at. He was watching her body, specifically her breasts, which were generous and on the verge of spilling out of her work-dress as she bent to her washing.
He was five. His mother was long dead, and he yearned to have Aline’s attention for more than a few minutes. Longed for her to stop working and stroke his hair and comfort him, to take him on her lap and allow him to rest his head on her bosom. To tell him she would take him away from Monsieur Broussard, his father, who was so cruel to them both.
As he watched he felt some relief. Even though it was cold outside, seeing the steam tricked him into feeling warmer. He rubbed a little corner of the window and could see more clearly Aline’s rosy skin, could almost smell her earthy fragrance.
But then he heard heavy footsteps, and the boy startled, and scampered around the side of the house. He couldn’t let his father see him hanging around Aline, or he would get rid of her, like he’d gotten rid of all the others. And after getting rid of her, he would beat Laurent, snarling at him, and the boy would have to stay home from school until the bruises subsided.
Little Laurent slipped into the big garage stuffed with old furniture and knickknacks, and hid inside an armoire, shivering against the cold.
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