The World of the End by Ofir Touché Gafla Read Free Book Online Page A

casting director was on the line. She wanted me back for another audition. I was shocked. The next day I showed up for the second call, still sure I was auditioning for Cléante, but the director asked me to read Harpagon’s famous monologue. You know, Act Four, Scene Seven: ‘Thieves! Thieves! Assassins! Murder! Justice, just heavens! I am undone; I am murdered; they have cut my throat; they have stolen my money!’ I thought the director had made a mistake, but he insisted, saying my neurotic behavior made him think of Harpagon. My heart was thumping; I closed my eyes and thought of Catherine and the way she had wronged me. I had her stand in for the miser’s stolen money and screamed out the monologue, on the verge of tears. Two days later I got the good news: I’d been chosen to play the lead role in the movie version of The Miser . I felt like the king of the world. At last it was happening; my star was living out its promise. I intended to be the second Belgian in history to bring honor and fame to his country. I mean, what else do we have to be proud of besides Brel? The most famous detective in history, who was created by an English woman? At any rate, that night I asked Catherine to come out with me, but she was in one of her moods. She refused, saying she wouldn’t leave the house until she found her key. Turns out she’d lost the key to her room. I couldn’t see why that bothered her so much. Anyway, I left her at home and went out with friends. We drank half the night away and, for the first time since I’d met my mother superior, I managed to avoid thinking about her for a few consecutive hours. I came home at three in the morning in high spirits. I went to my room, took off my clothes, and crawled into bed. I don’t know how much time elapsed while I was asleep, but when I woke up I was sure I was dreaming. I opened my eyes and saw a fully naked woman mounting me. I switched on my lamp but still had trouble believing what my eyes reported: the exquisitely naked Catherine Dumas was making love to me, eyes closed, moaning ‘mon dieu’ and coaxing herself down on top of me in the most glorious manner.
    “I remember thinking to myself that the star was doing its thing; that everything was falling into place. We made love till first light. When I left the house that morning she was still sleeping … in my bed. I floated down the street, got into my car, and went to the director’s house to sign the contract. When I got back she wasn’t there. By nightfall, I was worried. Catherine was still nowhere to be found. The door to her room was open. Just as I considered calling her priest, four cops burst through the door. They clapped the cuffs on my wrists, told me I was charged with the brutal rape of my roommate, and dragged me to their car. I had no idea what they were talking about. They asked me thousands of questions about what happened that night. I assured them that there must be some mistake. They said they doubted it, considering the charges she’d pressed against me. I begged them to bring her down to the interrogation room so that she could look me in the eye and tell them that this whole affair was an awful misunderstanding. They refused, saying I wouldn’t be looking anywhere near her eye until the trial. Trial! What the hell were they talking about? I spent a month and a half behind bars. Naturally I lost the part, but that’s beside the point. My lawyer said we had no choice but to portray Catherine as certifiably insane. I didn’t want to go along with it, but what choice did I have?
    “I told him everything, everything. The physical love affair with God, the platonic relationship with me up until that night, the whole story. He smiled and said she would live to regret bringing charges. I waited a month and a half for the trial and believe it or not—I was more eager to see her than to discover my fate.
    “When the day arrived, the police escorted me to the courtroom. I saw her