Georgette's Revenge

Pain is easy, joy hard.* The only easy joy is that of revenge. To be happy: a
I met Claude at a Paris disco. I was studying Economics at the Sorbonne. I had hoped to become a film star. Now I would oversee workers on my father's farm near Fadiouth. I stood at the gate of Daniel's garden,	admiring the perfume of his night-blooming jasmine. His offer of tomatoes and basil startled me. I didn't walk past there again for two months. The first tomato I ate	was a huge, shiny red with a vibrant tart- ness. At nine a.m., four p.m. four a.m., I often think of Daniel's tomatoes and the basil. I could smell the sweet acrid aroma of his

body, fresh from the garden. Daniel's garden, in the south of France, stood at the mouth of a river	that emptied into the sea. I felt safe and relaxed in the garden, but entering took tre- mendous effort. My body moved-hairline	sweating, hands shaking-through the toothed turnstile. A 2-in. slash-mark scarred his right cheek.
right or a duty? Must one enjoy a caressing voice, the first soft kisses,the promise of oysters and abandon?