Chourmo Read Free Page A

archeological excavations being carried out in Marseilles. “Incredibly rich finds,” he’d started to explain. It had sounded fascinating. But they hadn’t paid too much attention. They’d been in a hurry to be alone together. To declare their love for each other. And then to make love.
    Hocine had been staying in Mathias’ parents’ house for more than a month. They’d left to spend the weekend in their villa at Sanary in the Var. And Mathias had left Naïma and Guitou his studio apartment on the first floor.
    It was one of those beautiful renovated houses in the Panier, on the corner of Rue des Belles-écuelles and Rue du Puits Saint-Antoine, near Place Lorette. Mathias’ father, an architect, had redesigned the interior. A three-storied house, with an Italian-style terrace on the roof, giving a magnificent view of the whole harbor, from L’Estaque to La Madrague-de-Montredon.
    â€œTomorrow morning,” Naïma had said to Guitou, “I’ll go out and buy bread. We’ll have breakfast up there. It’ll be beautiful, you’ll see.” She wanted him to love Marseilles. Her city. She’d told him so much about it. Guitou had been a bit jealous of Mathias. “Have you been out with him?” She’d laughed, but she hadn’t answered. Later, when she’d confessed, “It’s true, you know, this is my first time,” he’d forgotten all about Mathias. The promised breakfast. The terrace. And Marseilles.
    â€œAfraid of what?”
    She slid her leg over him, moving it up toward his stomach. Her knee brushed against his cock, and she felt it get hard. She placed her cheek on his pubescent chest. Guitou held her tight. He stroked her back. Naïma quivered.
    He wanted her again, really wanted her, but he didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. If it was what she wanted. He didn’t know anything about girls, or about love. But he was getting a massive hard-on. She looked up at him. Their lips met. He drew her to him and she moved until she was on top of him. Then they heard a cry: Hocine.
    They froze.
    â€œMy God,” she said, almost voicelessly.
    Guitou pushed Naïma away and leaped out of the bed. He pulled on his shorts.
    â€œWhere are you going?” she asked, not daring to move.
    He didn’t know. He was afraid. But he couldn’t stay that way. He couldn’t show he was afraid. He was a man now. And Naïma was watching him.
    She’d sat up in bed.
    â€œGet dressed,” he said.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWhat’s happening?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    They heard footsteps on the stairs.
    Naïma picked up her scattered clothes and ran to the bathroom. Guitou put his ear against the door and listened. More steps on the stairs. Whispering. He opened the door, not really aware of what he was doing. As if his fear was stopping him from thinking rationally. The first thing he saw was the gun. The second was the man’s eyes. They looked so cruel. His whole body started shaking. He didn’t hear the shot. But he felt a burning pain in his stomach, and he thought of his mother. He fell. His head hit the stone stairs so violently that the arch of his eyebrows was torn off. He felt the taste of blood in his mouth. It was disgusting.
    â€œLet’s get out of here.” That was the last thing he heard. He was aware of them stepping over him. Like a corpse.

1.

I N WHICH HAPPINESS IS A SIMPLE IDEA WHEN YOU’VE GOT THE SEA IN FRONT OF YOU
    T here’s nothing more pleasant, when you have nothing to do, than to have a snack in the morning and sit looking at the sea.
    As a snack, Fonfon had made an anchovy purée, which he’d just taken out of the oven. I’d come back from fishing, and was feeling happy. I’d caught a fine bass, four bream and a dozen mullet. The anchovy purée added to my happiness. I’ve always been