The true horror stories in the modern Paris part 35

My full profile, if it was ever disclosed, would reveal all sorts of minority groups starting with my gender and race. Throughout my life, I have been harassed on many levels, but I lacked the stomach and power to carry out revenge.  This was a blessing in disguise because retribution eventually manifested itself which inspired me to share on this blog.  I quote many others before me that ‘True horror is hidden within man’.


If the Police kept the records of the city cameras that night, you would see me, a tiny Japanese woman pushing two chairs twice the size of herself across Paris.  My arm muscle ached but so did my heart.  I could not adjust to the sobering reality that Mme. HARMONY was not quite the philanthropist that I had believed her to be.  

I remembered this recent cocktail party held at Mme. HARMONY’s apartment, the one I had just left.  I felt honored at being invited so I dressed up for the occasion and brought a thank you gift.  Mme. HARMONY happily accepted the gift and seated me.  I marveled at the group of French ladies as I thanked God for allowing me this rare glimpse into the French socializing scene.    More guests arrived and I was impressed by the diversity of her circle.  

The conversation turned to the numerous trips Mme. HARMONY had taken which the French ladies envied.  Mme. HARMONY gleefully explained that her former foreign students or the immigrants she had helped wished to travel with her.  Mme. HARMONY paused and smiled at me.  A guest said ‘will your next trip will for Japon?’  I adored her dearly back then, so I immediately asked her to join me in the year of the Tokyo Olympics.  Another woman asked, ‘would you take a ship like you did last year.  It must have cost you a fortune.’  

‘I don’t know.  It’s not my problem.’ 

Now, I would not have asked her, my guest to pay the expenses on a trip to Japan, but the casual way she took it for granted was disappointing.  Suddenly, the party lost its charm.  I suppressed the prickle in my heart that night. 

However, as I carried her heavy chairs up the four staircases to Mme. HARMONY’s apartment at midnight after having witnessed the two faces of Mme. HARMONY, I had to concede that I had been used by Mme. HARMONY all along.  She knew that I was suffering from chronic insomnia because of the unsympathetic bar-restaurant below my apartment.  And yet she chose to take advantage of my weak state.   She denounced Mr. PRIDE for being money orientated, but she was no better.  At least, Mr. PRIDE was not a moocher.  

It was around this time that I noticed that things went missing every time Mme. HARMONY visited my place.   In the beginning, Mme. HARMONY would ask if she wished to borrow something from me.  Then gradually ‘borrowed’ became ‘taken.’  After 16 months, she would just take them and would be rather cross if I retrieved my things from her apartment.  Still, I made excuses for her, telling myself that it was her advanced age making her forgetful of manner.  Of course, she was miserly to the bone, but I did not want to see it then.  My plate was already full of dark malice from the restaurant from Hell, I could not handle another type of evil. 

Mirror that reflects your soul

So, I got to work in the cold month of December in her apartment.  I spent two days scraping off the old layers, filling up the numerous holes.  A professional painter would tell you that this was the most tedious process of painting, but I did it because the Japanese would honor their promises.  It was becoming evident that Mme. HARMONY did not see me as her equal, but a promise was a promise.  Mme. HARMONY had taught many Japanese students and spoke fondly of their politeness, but what she really appreciated was their obedience.  She knew I would complete any hard task, once I took it upon.   

I had underestimated her avarice, financial or any forms.  She told me that her heater was not working.  She made me work in the unheated apartment during the winter.   She even forbid me to use her toilet and yet she would use mine.  To save on toilet paper?  Mme. HARMONY knew I would not push an old lady out of my toilet.  Thoroughly disgusted, I wished to finish the job as fast as I could.  I found a way to peel off the black wallpaper.   

Unfortunately, it did not make my work easier because there was still a lot of dried glue stuck on the wall and it was hell removing it a strip by strip.  I spent three whole days removing the glues, but Mme. HARMONY was not satisfied by the result.   She wrote an email to me so there would be no misunderstanding.  She wrote how her son and her family were appalled that Mme. HARMONY was left to fix my lousy job.  If they had come, why did they not help their own mother?   Perhaps, their mother raised them with the idea that immigrants were the source of free labor.