Chapter 25: The Corridor

Julien Aubrac had run a company through three recessions, and he could not make a door open.

It was a quarter past one in the morning, and Margaux had been in the delivery room since dusk.

The midwife had said the father could wait outside until the baby came.

Margaux had said, through her teeth, that he could wait outside until she called him.

He had not corrected either of them.

He stood in the corridor of the Hôpital de la Croix-Rousse with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled.

Thibault's court application had been served at the gate three days ago, and the hearing was set for the new year.

Tonight the paper was only a thing in a drawer.

Down the corridor, on a plastic bench under the vending machine, sat Thibault Marceau.

He had arrived at nine, alone, and asked the desk for the room number.

The guard Julien had hired stood between him and the delivery wing, and Thibault had gone to sit where he was told.

He had not spoken since.

He had a paper cup of coffee that he had not drunk.

Julien did not look at him.

Through the door came a long low sound, then a silence, then his name.

"Julien!"

He was at the door with his hand on the frame before he understood that she had not called him in.

"Stay there!" Margaux shouted. "I said stay there!"

"Yes," he said to the wood. "I'm here."

"You are being loud!"

"I'm not saying anything."

"You are breathing loudly!"

The midwife's voice said something calm.

Margaux swore at her, and the midwife laughed.

Julien put his forehead against the door and shut his eyes.

At ten to three, there was a cry.

It was thin and furious and it went on and on.

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