The Secret Ways of Perfume Read Online Free PDF

that meant exactly, but it was definitely something bad. It made her mom cry.
    One day, she’d come home for a snack and heard her mother arguing with Maurice. It happened a lot, and that day she took no notice at first. She picked up a cookie and was about to go back outside to play when she thought to take another one for Monique.
    â€œShe’s the image of her father, isn’t she? Admit it. She doesn’t look anything like you. I can’t even bear the sight of her. How can you ask me to keep her with me? With us?”
    Elena stood still, then. A vise clamped around her stomach. It was the tone of the man’s voice that stopped her in her tracks. Maurice was talking quietly, the way people tell secrets. But she had heard him perfectly.
    She turned around. The bedroom door was open. Maurice was sitting on a chair, his head bowed, his fingers buried in his hair.
    â€œI made a mistake,” her mother was saying, “and there’s nothingI can do about it now. And anyway, when I came back, you said the past didn’t matter; you wanted us to make a new start—together. Try to understand. She’s my daughter, too.”
    Yes, she was her daughter. The way Susanna pronounced the word was strange. And why was her mother crying? She didn’t like those words, Elena thought. They stung her throat and her eyes.
    Maurice jumped up. “Your daughter! Yes—yours and who else’s? Who is her father?”
    â€œNo one—I’ve told you a thousand times. He doesn’t even know there was a baby.”
    The man shook his head. “I can’t stand it, Susanna. I know I promised you, I know, but I just can’t do it.”
    That was when he noticed her. “What are
you
doing here?” he yelled.
    Speechless, Elena stepped back, then ran away.
    She shed only a few tears on the way back to Monique’s house, because Monie hated crybabies. Crying didn’t get you anywhere. Her friend had often told her that, and it was true. The pain was still there, like a chasm in her throat. But she told her friend everything, because she listened and she understood her.
    As she was talking to Monique she realized that Maurice was wrong. She’d never had a dad. Maybe she should tell him, and that would make things better.
    But however hard she tried over the next few days, the man’s stern glare frightened her. The words refused to come out; they got trapped in her mouth, caught on her tongue. So she came up with the idea of a drawing.
    She had to use the whole page because Maurice was very tall, but she managed to fit him in. She drew the three of them together: Susanna holding her hand, and there, at their side, was Maurice, not another dad.
    Before she gave him the drawing, she showed it to her mother.
    â€œIt’s beautiful, darling,” Susanna told her.
    Her mother really liked her drawings, even though she never had time to look at them properly. But this one was special, as Elena had insisted when she showed her mother all the details. Details were important; her teacher told her that all the time. She’d drawn Susanna’s long black hair that came down to her shoulders, Maurice, and herself in the middle, holding them both by the hand. She was wearing a pink dress—she really liked that color.
    She didn’t have a dad, so Maurice could be hers, if he wanted. And as for who she looked like, he was most certainly wrong. Jasmine had assured her that when she grew up, she’d look just like her mother. And Jasmine knew what she was talking about; she had loads of children.
    One day, when Maurice was in a terrible mood, Elena decided to give him the drawing to cheer him up. Ignoring the somber expression that frightened her, she mustered her courage and handed him the piece of paper. He took it without saying anything, and after giving it a quick glance, she saw his face twist with rage.
    Elena instinctively shrank back, her palms sweating and