The Mime

Chapter I

In the old days, being dumb was once considerably esteemed as an unavoidable and deplorable misfortune.

This thought has skirted around me all my life. But there was nothing we could do about it. As a child, my two parents went back and forth to the abbots and priests many times. But this time again, even they couldn't help it. The curse had been certified, since my birth. According to them, I am a crippled, melancholic child.

They cried often, my parents, and yet they resented me for being born like this. Honestly, I blamed myself for being born like this. It was very sad, my childhood! The limit of my actions was to shed insignificant tears late at night by the moonlight, under its barely comforting beams.

Yes, in the old days, being mute was bad luck. A mute, in their eyes, is incapable of feeling any emotion or even commotion. But there was nothing we could do about it. It was unavoidable.

I know very well that my parents had one wish, an absurd desire; to be exhausted one day by my tears and my cries. But it was a dream spoken in the air. The inhabitants of the neighborhoods tried to keep their children away from my company, sometimes even at school. It's funny how fate likes to choose unworthy or mediocre colorless faces like mine to represent it. Only them, my parents, worried about my career; "What would become of him? », « what about its future? », « what will he do once alone? » ...

One day, around the age of seven, while my parents haggled over their products at the weekly market, I locked myself in the attic. My instinct slipped away quickly. Panic overwhelms me. But not a breath left my mouth. I had been nailed to the skylight, altered for a whole day, until late at night. Whatever ? I don't feel anything, I mustn't cry. A mute does not cry. That's what my father told me. It's true, my future is messed up, without hope, not the slightest hope of success or happiness. I was doomed. My mother used to tell me to think of nice things if I felt bad. All I could think of was the view through the narrow little window.

I wandered in the adjacent and foggy streets of Paris, towards the end of the afternoon. Tomorrow already I will celebrate my twenty-fourth birthday. My mother told me to think of beautiful things when I feel bad, now I think of her. She and my father had been taken away by a fever a decade earlier. I headed for the chaste abode where my grandfather live, my last and only tutor in whom I could confide. But I know that soon death will prevail.

-Emile, my boy, you know, even if I will die soon, as we all say, Death is the perfect opposite of Life. My life, it was rough and painful, but my death will be much more joyful. Please for me lead a happy life.

I nodded, holding back my tears. If only I could speak for even a second, or even a fraction of a second, a barely granted moment, just to tell him "I love you grandpa, and I will always have you with me among the stars every night." But he could read it clearly and unmistakably on my face. Oncent, him, my mother and my father, in my memory, their eternal presence engraved forever, and that nobody will be able to prevent me from it.

That evening, he tells me about all the exploits he had accomplished during his humble youth. It was a long way from where I am today. He was independent, helpful, obedient, brave; a true protagonist of the army. Although she was rude, his youth, he had never reproached a single choice. He must have been very proud of it, of his past. He will die in peace, when the time comes. I continued to nod my head and stretch my lips awkwardly.

-Emile, it's not death that's so sad. Never will there be more funereal and somber than regretting all one's previous actions. You have a hidden talent, my boy. Maybe you won't be able to practice singing, but you are able to draw or even write. Don't let the sadness of the past and the fear of the future rob you of the happiness of the present.

I stare at him for a moment, he wrecked by his health, his eyes almost dull with age, lying on his antiquated bed. How could I, in what way... How could I accept the fact that he fell asleep once and for all? How could I do without his smile, his kindness still blooming in his almost soaring soul?

The strokes of midnight startled me from my grief. Had we mentioned until so late as that? I was holding my grandfather's hand before I realized I was squeezing it desperately.

- It's crazy how time flies when you're having fun! It's already March 17, exactly midnight. Happy birthday, my boy. He said smiling.

One more year. Time passes, and each time there is time passing, there is something that fades away, and takes, all along the thread, dying souls. Time is a rabbit, an Easter bunny. My grandfather will not be able to escape it, nor me. That's reason enough to enjoy the moment, because tomorrow is another day, next week is another week, next month is another month, and next year is a new year.

Maybe he was right, because my childhood wasn't a childhood. It's time to forget everything, to leave the past behind, at the precise age of 24, because all that is over. Happiness awaits me now, as well as a promising career, because continuing to move forward is easy, turning behind is difficult. Yes, he was right, we must not let the sadness of the past and the fear of the future steal the happiness and fortune of the present.

* * * *

A few months later, during the September full moon, I was on top of the roof of the new tower in Paris. I found myself strangely alone, which is quite obvious given the curse that holds my soul hostage, but I didn't care, given the perspective from the top of the tower of Monsieur Eiffel talking on the phosphorescent and sensational city. It's just at night, in the dark, that the city shines. Even if the view from above is magnificent, it is nothing compared to the view that my grandfather enjoys from the sky, the third or the seventh, but who cares because it is much more magnificent than what we have to observe from even a hot air balloon. I hope he is blessed with his fate and above all, that he is proud of me one day.

My parents had bequeathed many of their possessions to me, although it was my guardian, grandfather, who looked after my testamentary affairs. He was waiting for his death so that he could leave me not only all his possessions but also those of my parents when the time came. I have read the will countless times but my decision was made after reading the first line. I simply sold everything; the farm, the land, the fields... Although I had defrauded myself given the advantage that the client had over me, given my inability to argue and haggle. Grandfather must be confused and disappointed, though his soul was stolen from the High Beyond; I had abominably dishonored the Ward family, and sold all the possessions of our elders and our ancestors. We don't disappoint disavow it, I'm damned.