1. The date in red pencil
On Monday morning, Pascal arrived first at the workshop. He placed his bag on the workbench, opened his phone and read the message received the previous Friday. Six o'clock next Monday. Staff entrance on the delivery side. Ask Étienne.
He knew every word. However, he rereads them, with the unpleasant feeling of having already changed his life while his coat was still hanging on the same nail.
Benoît came in at seven, minus five. He carried two coffees and a bag of pastries crushed under his elbow. Since the announcement of the closure, he was buying breakfast on Monday. No one asked him. He had simply stated that finishing a business on an empty stomach seemed indecent to him.
— “I confirmed it for the local,” he said. Monday, ten o'clock. The owner gives us two hours.
Pascal put his phone away.
On the workshop calendar, Benoît had circled the date in red pencil. They had to visit a small hangar in Vauvenay, behind a washing station, to launch a repair and manufacturing activity to order. They had chosen a name, discussed a vehicle, and spent three evenings examining used equipment. Their former colleagues were already talking about them as a company.
— "We'll have to see for the electricity," replied Pascal.
— We'll see. Eat before it dries.
They have been working together for 24 years. Benoît was able to recognize Pascal by the way he dragged a chair over concrete. He could have identified the effort required for this response, if Nelly had not entered at that time with the program of the last week.
There were three folding counters left to finish for Irene, a bookseller who sold at markets and festivals. Delivery on Friday morning. Then, cleaning, inventory and handing over the keys. Nelly had also posted the list of machines sold. The Saint-Véran company would come to pick up the column drill on Wednesday.
Pascal looked at this name for too long. That was where he would start on Monday, as a team leader, with a lower salary than he was receiving today but set schedules and a paycheck each month. He agreed at noon on Friday.
Benoît opened the cardboard of the hinges and threw the first box at him.
— Do we give them a good last order?
Pascal caught her against his chest. He would have wanted to talk before the noise of the machines. Benoît was waiting for his answer, his hand still extended towards the cardboard. Pascal opened the box and asked him how many hinges he had counted. He had just chosen another minute of respite; at eight o’clock he had already filled an hour.
2. The grey polos
On Tuesday, Benoît brought a sander ad and placed it next to Pascal’s sandwich. He read it to the end, asked if the abrasive was provided, and then hated himself for asking the question.
— “You want me to call him?” said Benoît.
— Let's wait for the visit.
— You’re making me wait for everything right now.
He was still smiling. Pascal looked at the bread crumb stuck on his thumb and felt his throat closing. Benoît had always preferred to manufacture rather than sell; in their project, Pascal had to look for customers and defend prices. They had never decided that clearly. At each conversation, however, he understood a little better the place prepared for him and a little less how to refuse it.
In the evening, Benoît showed him the deposit of the vehicle: one hundred and eighty euros for their move.
— Don’t reserve anything anymore.
His friend looked up.
— “What is it?”
— I have to check something.
— “Then check. The owner will not keep his shed empty to please us.
The next day, Étienne came to get the column drill purchased by the Saint-Véran company. Pascal saw him leave Nelly's office and took a step towards Benoît, too late to find the words.
— "Hello," said Étienne. I brought two sizes for Monday. You'll tell me which one's right.
He placed on the workbench a bag containing gray polo shirts.
Benoît looked at the clothes, then Pascal. Behind them, a man asked where to park the cart; Jo moved a crate. Nothing around the bench had understood that it was necessary to stop.
— “I’ll start there on Monday,” said Pascal.
Étienne slowly pulled his hand out of the bag. He walked away to the drill with a form he no longer needed.
— “How long have you known?” asked Benoît.
— - Friday.
— Friday when?
— . At noon.
Benoît nodded. In the afternoon, they had compared vans; Pascal had advised against the blue one because of the height of the trunk. He remembered exactly the listing, the kilometres, the scratched glass.
— I wanted to talk to you correctly.
— You could have started any way.
Benoît took a cover and went out into the courtyard. Pascal pretended to follow him.
— "Not now.
The door remained open. He saw his friend from behind, holding this piece of cloth as if he was still waiting for someone to tell him what to do with it.
3. What was not signed
When Benoît returned, he asked for the proposed salary. Pascal gave it to him. The amount was lower than their current pay.
— To run five people?
— The timetables are fixed.
— Would we have worked all night?
Pascal began to talk about the estimates and the credit of the house. Benoît interrupted him:
— I’m not asking you to sell me your job. I wonder why you let me rent a truck.
He refused a place in a material depot. Not a job he would have chosen for pleasure, but work a few kilometres away, with a paycheck he wouldn’t have to claim. He had told the manager that he was settling down with an associate.
Pascal felt the shame heating his face. He took a hinge and turned it back into his hands.
— You didn’t tell me about the deposit.
— I said no. For our workshop.
— We didn’t sign anything, Benoît.
His friend stood up. Pascal would have liked to catch up with the phrase before it had finished resonating.
— "Ah. That’s where you are.
Benoît went to ask Nelly for a few hours. He returned in the afternoon and worked on the second workbench. They exchanged references, dimensions, the name of a tool; Pascal discovered all that a day could contain of words without being really addressed to him.
At home, he remained in a coat in front of the plate that Sophie had left by the oven.
— Benoît took it badly.
— You still haven't told him?
He shook his head. She put down her fork. Friday, he had assured her that they would find a solution; she had believed that the conversation had already taken place, and he had taken care not to confuse her.
— I couldn’t put the house in danger.
— "I know. But I didn’t ask you to leave him in the fog.
He took off his coat. Since the announcement of the closure, he consulted their account several times a day. Benoît’s project had been a relief before it became another concern. However, he had participated with pleasure: the sign, the first drawings, the evenings to imagine what they would finally do as they wanted.
— “You wanted that too,” Sophie said.
He nodded. That’s what made it so hard to tell: he hadn’t lied from the beginning.
After the meal, he opened their files. Benoît called the last one “this time the good one.” Pascal searched for the message that accompanied him, reread their joke about company names, and then shut down the computer. On the bedroom chair, the gray polo shirts were still waiting in their plastic.
4. The Last Command
Thursday, Irene came to try the three folding counters. She was selling books at the markets and had to be able to put them up on her own. Benoît had designed the mechanism; Pascal had adjusted the pieces, and their first model had earned Irene the question: where should she store her third hand?
She did the first two montages. On the third, she turned a crossbeam, hesitated and straightened herself by rubbing her knees.
— Is that me?
Pascal crouched. He had pierced the room upside down the day before, while Benoît was absent. Another day, his friend would have seen him even before he plugged the drill.
— - Nope. It's me. We'll do it again.
Irene was to sell on Saturday; she had already given away her old trestles. Nelly allowed the necessary hours and they promised a new try at the end of the day. After his departure, Pascal took a fall in the locker.
— “Too short,” said Benoît.
There came out another. They measured it together. Pascal was waiting for a remark, perhaps even an anger that would have allowed them to speak again; Benoît checked the marks and handed him the pencil.
Before noon, Jo came to say goodbye: his future boss was waiting for him for a visit to the workshop. Benoît put his old plank in his hands. The apprentice protested, then promised to bring him back when he came for a coffee. Pascal wished him good luck by shaking his hand a little too hard; in the door, Jo turned to ask if the next day's meal still held.
At four o'clock Irene went up the third counter without difficulty. She started again to be certain, then asked for more visible marks on two pieces. They added them before putting everything in the covers.
The workshop was emptying around them. The machines had left greasy rectangles on the concrete and sockets that no one would put back in order.
— "The deposit?" asked Pascal at last.
— They took someone.
He put down the cover he was holding.
— I will refund you the reservation of the vehicle.
— What I lose, yes. I will send you the amount.
They worked a few more minutes. Pascal ended up saying that he didn’t see himself picking up orders every morning, then making in the evening wondering if customers would pay.
Benoît sat down on a stool.
— You were doing it here.
— - Nope. Here, the orders arrived. Nelly found the customers. I explained to them why we couldn't deliver on Tuesday.
A brief smile crossed Benoît’s face before disappearing.
— I thought you would do the same for us.
— "I know.
— You could have told me you were scared. We would have at least looked at the numbers for real.
Pascal had no answer that didn’t begin with an excuse. He closed the box and remained near the workbench until Benoît got up to put out.
5. Delivery
On Friday, Benoît drove. At a crossing, Pascal raised his hand to indicate the direction; the turn signal was already working. They knew their gestures as well as the road to the local of Irene.
A cover stuck against the door of the van. Pascal stopped, Benoît changed his grip and they cleared it without a word. This facility made their silence even more sad.
Irene put her books on the counters, tried the covers, signed the reception. Then she talked about the little shelves she would need in the spring.
— “Nelly told me you were going to open your workshop.
Benoît remained crouched. Pascal felt the urge to say that things were complicated, that they were still thinking.
— - We don't. I accepted a position elsewhere and announced it too late to Benoît.
Irene nodded without asking for an explanation. She offered them coffee. In the nearby courtyard, a man was trying to get a cupboard into a small car; Benoît followed his efforts for a few moments and whispered that the car should be dismantled first.
Pascal laughs. Benoît smiled in his cup, then looked elsewhere.
On the way back, they talked about traffic. Near the workshop, Benoît lowered the radio.
— Monday night, don’t call me to tell me about your first day. I can't pretend.
— “Okay.
Pascal had just thought to call him. He kept his eyes on the road until they entered the courtyard.
6. The last nail
The departure meal took place in the refectory, on the usual tables. Nelly ordered pizzas. Two former employees came, including one who had sworn never to set foot here again. He explained that he came back only because he was owed a glass dish. No one found the dish.
We spoke loud, then less loud. Pascal avoided telling his new post as good collective news. When asked when he was starting, he answered on Monday and handed out a plate. Benoît discussed with Jo, who had returned from his visit the day before, the machines he would have to learn.
After the meal, everyone emptied their cloakroom. Pascal took his coat off the nail near the workbench. The wall kept a small dark mark at shoulder height. He found in a pocket a bag of screws that he put back in the stock before remembering that the stock also left.
Benoît arrived with a box of wicks.
— These are yours.
— We bought them together.
— - Yeah. I took the other box. They are the same sizes.
Pascal opened the box. The wick of eight was still wearing the red ribbon ring they were using to spot the depth. He closed the lid and put it in his bag, next to the empty bowl.
Benoît had cancelled the visit to the hangar. For the vehicle, the agency had agreed to move the reservation on behalf of another customer; it only lost the fees already provided for the modification. He gave the amount to Pascal, who reimbursed him the same evening. The confirmation message remained unanswered.
In the courtyard, Nelly picked up the keys. Benoît handed over his own before Pascal. He had an interview on Monday afternoon for a temporary assignment at a set company. He didn’t know yet if the schedule would work, or how many weeks it would last.
— "You will continue to manufacture," said Pascal.
— If I am caught.
Pascal looked down at his keys. He turned them in his palm, looked for another sentence and raised his head.
— I wish you to be.
Benoît nodded. As he left, he put his hand briefly on Nelly’s shoulder, squeezed Jo’s shoulder and greeted Pascal with his head. Pascal did not extend a hand that would have forced his friend to choose in front of the others.
He waited until Benoît’s car left the court to return his keys.
7. The one who gave his name
At 05:40 the following Monday, Pascal went to the wrong entrance at Saint-Véran. He found the delivery entrance after following a fence through light rain. The grey polo shirt was tight across his shoulders. Étienne offered him a coffee that was too hot and introduced him to the team.
There were five people, habits he did not know, and an urgent order of which he did not yet understand all the peculiarities. When a worker asked him how he wanted to distribute the work, Pascal replied that he would first look with her at what had been started. She showed him the pieces without hiding her relief of not having to undo immediately the previous week.
At half-past nine, Étienne passed him through the little office for the last papers. Pascal had to find his address on a document when he had lived in the same house for sixteen years. Étienne waited until he was finished.
— Are you okay with the team?
— I have to learn.
— Benoît told me that you would start by listening.
Pascal raised his head.
— When did you talk to him?
— Before you call. I met him at the supplier. I asked him if he knew anyone to replace our team leader.
Étienne put away a form, then stopped in front of Pascal’s face.
— You didn't know?
Pascal shook his head.
— He gave me your number. He told me to offer you an appointment, not to call you between two machines. That you would need to look at the schedules quietly.
The day of Étienne’s first call came back to Pascal: he was sitting in his car, in the supermarket parking lot. He thought Nelly had passed on his name. He had never asked her the question.
— "He was preparing an activity with you, wasn't he?" asked Étienne.
— - Yeah.
— "He has made it clear. I assumed you were comparing your possibilities. Wednesday, when I saw his head...
He didn't finish. The office phone rang. Pascal stood up with the papers against him.
In the workshop, the drill of their old company occupied an angle near the windows. Someone had removed the damaged sticker that covered his case. He recognized the clearer trace left behind. He had been ashamed to find this machine here, as if he were taking a part of their workshop by abandoning Benoît. And it was Benoît who had proposed his name for this post.
At ten o’clock, his phone vibrated: an automatic reminder that he had not deleted.
Vauvenay. LOCAL. WITH BENEDICT.
He remained in front of the screen until he went out. Then a colleague called him. Two measures differed on the order. He went to look at them with her.
At the pause, he wrote: “Étienne told me that it was you who gave him my name. I did not know.
He added thanks, then deleted the word. He was afraid that it would sound like a receipt: a recognized favor, an additional debt that was stored with the reservation of the vehicle. He only sent the first sentence.
Benoît did not answer that day.
He spent his interview in the decor company. The proposed mission lasted six weeks. He asked for a night to check the transport schedules: his car needed a repair that he had postponed during their project. On Tuesday, he agreed. Nelly learned it, then told Pascal, who forbids himself to see the end of what he had caused.
On Wednesday night, Benoît called him.
Pascal was preparing his bowl. He put down the lid, wiped his hands and answered too quickly.
— Why didn’t you tell me?
Benoît had a brief laugh.
— Are you really going to start with that?
Pascal closed his eyes.
— - Nope. Excuse me.
On the other side, he heard water flowing. Benoît closed a tap.
— Étienne was looking for someone. You knew how to do the job. I gave him your name.
— But the hangar?
— “The hangar, I always wanted to visit with you.
— You knew he was going to offer me the job.
— I knew he was going to talk to you. I thought you'd tell me what you wanted.
Pascal looked at the two parts of gratin aligned on the worktop. Sophie had prepared hers next door. He moved it, then put it back in exactly the same place.
— Why didn’t you ask for yourself?
— “Because I don’t want to frame five people all day. You know that. I wanted to make with you, not watch who comes after the break.
There was a wrinkle. Benoît seemed to be looking for something in a drawer.
— “I’m not going to tell you that I did this without expecting anything,” he resumed. I would have liked you to say no. That would have reassured me. I'd have thought you'd choose our thing for good.
Pascal remained motionless.
— You could have asked me.
— - Yeah. Instead of taking an exam that you didn't know about.
He had found what he was looking for. A drawer closed.
— I’m not very proud of that either. But I didn’t reserve the vehicle to trap you. I really thought we would.
Pascal sat down. The previous days, he had seen their story as a series of scenes where Benoît was moving forward and back. He was now discovering his friend arrested outside another door, waiting for an answer he was too afraid to ask if it had arrived.
— “When you showed me the vans on Friday, I already knew,” he said.
— "I know.
— Even the blue. The one I said the trunk was too low.
He would have liked this clarification to be unnecessary. Benoît did not answer immediately.
— - Yeah. This is the one I see too.
Pascal lowered his eyes.
— Thank you for giving my name. I wanted to tell you. I didn’t know how without it seeming to end the discussion.
— - It doesn't end.
— - Nope.
They did not speak for long afterwards. Benoît recounted a door of too light decor that had flown away on the first try. Pascal said that he had been wrong in the dressing room three times. These details didn’t bring them back to the old workshop, but they gave them something to say to each other before hanging up.
Three weeks after closing, Jo offered Benoît a coffee to return the plane. He asked if he should tell Pascal. Benoît prefers to see him alone. Jo respected his choice.
Pascal’s square returned by Nelly the following Saturday, in a bag with the last papers. No words accompanied him. He checked that she had not taken a hit, then put her away with her tools. He hesitated to send a message, then closed the drawer.
At Saint-Véran, he was asked one evening if he knew anyone for a delicate fabrication, three days of work planned the following month. He thought of Benoît, then asked for the dimensions, the delay and the tariff. He took the information without giving his number.
In the parking lot, he called.
— Maybe there’s something for you. I tell you, and you tell me if you want me to put you in touch.
— Did you promise them that I would come?
— - Nope.
Benoît blew into the phone.
— “Then tell me.
Pascal unfolded the sheet on the steering wheel. He read the dimensions, the delay, the rate, and then waited.
End
