August 1939
France
Vianne Mauriac left the cool, stucco-walled kitchen //and stepped out into her front yard.// On this
beautiful summer morning in the Loire Valley, everything was in bloom.// White sheets flapped in the
breeze //and roses tumbled like laughter //along the ancient stone wall that hid her property from the road. //
A pair of industrious bees buzzed among the blooms; //from far away, she heard the chugging purr of a
train// and then the sweet sound of a little girl’s laughter.
Sophie. //
Vianne smiled. //Her eight-year-old daughter was probably running through the house, making her
father dance attendance on her //as they readied for their Saturday picnic.
“Your daughter is a tyre,” Antoine said, appearing in the doorway. //
He walked toward her, //his pomaded hair glinting black in the sunlight. //He’d been working on his
furniture this morning — sanding a chair that was already as soft as satin //— and a fine layer of wood dust
peppered his face and shoulders. //He was a big man, tall and broad shouldered, with a rough face and a
dark stubble that took constant effort to keep from becoming a beard. //
He slipped an arm around her and pulled her close. “I love you, V.” //
“I love you, too.” //
It was the truest fact of her world. //She loved everything about this man, //his smile, //the way he
mumbled in his sleep //and laughed after a sneeze// and sang opera// in the shower. //
She’d fallen in love with him fifteen years ago, //on the school play yard,// before she’d even known
what love was. //He was her first everything //— first kiss, first love, first lover. //Before him, she’d been a
skinny, awkward, anxious girl given to stuttering when she got scared, which was often. //
A motherless girl. //
You will be the adult now, her father had said to Vianne as they walked up to this very house for the
first time. //She’d been fourteen years old, //her eyes swollen from crying, //her grief unbearable.// In an
instant, this house had gone from being the family’s summer house to a prison of sorts.// Maman had
been dead less than two weeks when Papa gave up on being a father.
//Upon their arrival here, he’d not
held her hand or rested a hand on her shoulder or even offered her a handkerchief to dry her tears. //
B-but I’m just a girl, she’d said. //
Not anymore. //
She’d looked down at her younger sister, Isabelle, //who still s****d her thumb at four //and had no
idea what was going on. Isabelle kept asking when Maman was coming home. //
When the door opened, a tall, thin woman with a nose like a water spigot and eyes as small and dark
as raisins appeared. //
These are the girls? the woman had said. //
Papa nodded. //
They will be no trouble. //
It had happened so fast.// Vianne hadn’t really understood.// Papa dropped off his daughters like soiled
laundry// and left them with a stranger. //The girls were so far apart in age// it was as if they were from
different families. //Vianne had wanted to comfort Isabelle //— meant to //— but Vianne had been in so much
pain it was impossible to think of anyone else, //especially a child as willful and impatient and loud as
Isabelle. //Vianne still remembered those first days here: //Isabelle shrieking //and Madame spanking her. //
Vianne had pleaded with her sister, //saying, again and again, //Mon Dieu, Isabelle, quit screeching.// Just do
as she bids, //but even at four, Isabelle had been unmanageable. //
Vianne had been undone by all of it //— the grief for her dead mother, //the pain of her father’s
abandonment, //the sudden change in their circumstances, //and Isabelle’s cloying, needy loneliness. //
It was Antoine who’d saved Vianne.// That first summer after Maman’s death, //the two of them had
become inseparable. //With him, Vianne had found an escape.// By the time she was sixteen,// she was
pregnant; at seventeen, //she was married //and the mistress of Le Jardin.// Two months later, //she had a
miscarriage //and she lost herself for a while.// There was no other way to put it.// She’d crawled into her
grief// and cocooned it around her,// unable to care about anyone or anything //— certainly not a needy,
wailing four-year-old sister. //
moderator was energetic and informative. Made the class so much fun
Great class, great constructive criticism, and great time!!
I just wanted you to know what a great time I had in the web-based Investigate VO class with Noelle Romano on March 17th. As a full-time trainer/educator for the past 20+ years, I’ve literally taught thousands of people from all around the world and I’ve evaluated hundreds of trainers and coaches. And, let me tell you, Noelle has a gift! Not only is she a talented voice actor, but she is an incredibly patient and supportive coach. She encouraged us to take risks, made it safe for us to do so, and gave us just the right amount of feedback to help us progress with each read. And, the structure of the IVO program was just perfect too! Not too long. Not too short. Just the right amount of information we needed to know to give us a healthy dose of reality, but even more inspiration to keep going. I honestly can’t think of anything I’d tweak or change. It worked brilliantly for me. This is my first experience with Edge and I am beyond impressed so far. I look forward to jumping into the ABC program ASAP and continuing my training with Edge. My thanks to you (and Noelle) for all your support so far.
Hi Kendra, I just wanted to say that I really had a blast during the Investigate Voice Over class! The four hours passed by so quickly and I couldn’t get the smile off my face. Noelle is a wonderful coach with great energy, guidance, and encouragement. Although I am half way across the world she made me feel like I was sitting right next to her. Please let her know that I thoroughly enjoyed her class. Have a great day!
Thanks so much for a great workshop session today. I really picked up some great info and appreciate your casual, friendly approach. You had a lot of folks in the class today, but managed the time well.