A Secret

THIS STORY AND ITS MAIN CHARACTERS

ARE BASED ON TRUE EVENTS.

Franois.

Did you wash properly?

SUMMER 1955

Now get in the water.

You can watch me.

You can be on your own for a minute.

Franois.

Yes?

- Paul's here.

Go on in, Paul.

How are you this morning?

SUMMER 1985

Are you OK?

Want to open the door?

We can leave it open if you like.

So you went out with your mom yesterday?

Here...

Come sit down.

I'm writing about you...

doing your portrait.

Louise?

Everything alright?

Not really.

It's your father.

He took the dog out without its leash.

The poor thing got run over.

He was sick with grief.

He's been gone nearly three hours now.

Your mother didn't want to disturb you.

If you don't swim,

you get cold.

Go play with the others and warm up.

Thirty all.

Maxime?

Fourty-thirty.

I'll join you at the beach soon.

- We're going.

He's cold.

New ball.

Although an only child,

I long had a brother.

In the courtyard of my childhood home,

neither my neighbors or parents

were aware of this glorious brother,

better looking and stronger than me.

A phantom brother capable of

overcoming every obstacle,

rising above my failures.

I'd invented him for myself alone,

for my own ends.

What are you doing there?

- Nothing.

Nothing?

Then come do the rings with me.

Give me your hands.

Rub them.

Now look.

Take a deep breath,

pull on your arms,

lift your knees.

Touch the other side.

Come back up...

and follow through.

Your turn.

Grab the rings, pull,

lift your knees.

Lift.

Start over.

Pull up, then lift your legs.

Go on, push.

Go on, lift.

That's it for today.

I walked in my phantom brother's shadow.

I floated on his footsteps.

I'd even invented a game

so that he could share our meals.

Let me give you more.

First he wants more.

Who?

Who wants more?

Look at me.

I said, who wants more?

He does.

- Who is he?

My brother.

Now listen.

Put that plate down.

There's no one else at this table.

Just you, Mommy and me.

You, Mommy and me.

Where you going?

I'm going to Louise's.

Louise had always been part of our life.

She'd known my parents for ages,

I'd always known her.

She treated me several times a week.

Careful, don't burn yourself.

I spent less time in the shop than at her place.

Why the face?

I hate your shots.

But you like hot chocolate.

Aren't you sad not to have kids?

I have you.

Isn't that enough?

One of your own,

that you have with a husband.

I don't have a husband.

Give me that and lie down.

How come you don't?

There's no room for one.

Grow up fast.

I'll wait.

You're not pretty enough.

- Tough.

Don't start.

It doesn't hurt a bit.

You're my little ganef.

You stink of cigarettes.

What's ganef mean?

It means 'my little rascal,' my little darling.

You're my little rascal.

Leave that alone.

Why?

- Put that back.

It's full of fleas.

Stop.

Don't.

Mommy.

You going?

Stop it.

No.

Don't, I said.

Stop it.

Where you going?

Stop.

It's full of fleas.

Put that back.

Who are you talking to?

Tell me.

Mommy's here now.

You had a nightmare.

Everything's alright, now.

I'm watching over you.

Franois Grimbert?

Yes, Grimbert.

With an 'M' and a 'T.'

Wait a second.

Look at me.

You look nice like that.

Don't tell Grandpa you were baptized.

Why not?

Because

Talking about churches and cemeteries

might make him sad.

Boy, if ever Papa finds out.

If nobody tells him,

he won't find out.

Stop staring at me.

It's just beyond belief.

Circumcision,

then a goy baptism.

You must be nuts.

Eavesdropping?

You've got nerve,

and you're a mess.

How'd you get so heavy?

The holy water seems to suit him.

You went to the ceremony

So?

I'm not family.

I go where I like.

And I do what I like.

I cut hair for meshuggeners during the war.

They were really meshugge.

Not as bad as the Germans,

but they wanted this and that,

they had to have a quiff just so.

And the Brylcreem.

A bit more here, a bit more there,

never enough Brylcreem.

So, fella,

still leader of the pack?

Yep, honor roll.

So you're tops in everything?

Except gym, but he's exempt.

Until then,

he's tops in everything.

Until what,

we wonder?

Until he grows stronger.

The doctor says so.

Gym's useless.

Just kidding.

Can't be good at everything.

No apple pie for me?

Didn't I serve you?

Not in my house.

'Search the forest carefully.

A secret is hidden there.

'Long under a spell,

Sir Grimbert...'

'Grimbert,' like us.

- Don't move.

Hear that?

'Sir Grimbert'.

That's neat.

- It dates to the Middle Ages.

What's he going on about?

Head down.

Don't move.

Bring me your puzzle.

Afterwards. If he moves again,

I'll cut off an ear.

He's not back?

Come look.

Your dad came back to drop off the dog, then left.

That was three hours ago.

He wouldn't use the leash.

He said fox terriers

were made to run, not be cooped up.

Guess what?

They measured me at school.

I grew two inches.

Nice going.

You'll be taller than your dad,

he'll be pleased for once.

Yeah, he'll be real pleased.

Tomorrow, I'm going to put flowers on Olga's grave.

What did your cousin Olga die of?

During the war, while traveling.

Give me your arm.

Was she sick?

The other arm.

What did she die of, then?

The Nazis killed her.

I know they did.

Why are you asking then?

What're you up to?

Nothing.

We're just talking.

You're tense.

I was long a boy who dreamed of the perfect family.

From the rare images I was allowed to glimpse,

a few uttered words,

snippets of information.

I made up my parents' idyll,

as if I were writing a romance.

I imagined they shared a love of sports

at a time when thousands of Germans

shared the same passion.

Playing sports made Dad hope

he could erase his origins.

Mom modeled for designers,

and did sketches for a fashion magazine.

GENERAL MOBILIZATION

FIGHTING ON THE GERMAN-POLISH FRON

Oddly, my parents

never talked about the Occupation.

They kept it from me like a shameful secret.

I was reduced to imagining the period.

Like I invented a brother,

I devised my own improbable narrative.

Due to the hardships

my parents crossed the Demarcation Line.

I imagined their place of refuge, St Gaultier,

a memory of bliss.

That's where I wish I'd been born,

lovingly conceived after one of their walks.

Summer '44

For my parents,

death, suffering, terror

all remained in the confines of the radio.

Tania pressured Maxime into having a child.

At last, the fruit of their union arrives: Me,

so different from the one they dreamed of.

Not much.

It's a little baby.

My father's first gaze left its mark on me.

Time and again,

I would catch that bitter glint.

Later, he said of my conception

that I slipped out of him.

SPRING 1962

May I?

You go to Berthelot School, huh?

Me, too.

You're in 9th grade?

You're a real egghead.

I'm repeating 8th grade.

My name's Rebecca Finkiel.

Franois Grimbert.

See that woman there?

Boy, you should see her swim.

She's so gorgeous.

That's my mother.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes