Dare

Chapter 3 - Souvenirs

As the summer faded away without a word from the lieutenant, I made the bold decision to resume my studies. I enrolled in evening classes at the Cergy-Préfécture School to obtain my high school degree. My educational level was a curious placement, lingering somewhere between the conclusion of a third year of middle school and the onset of the first year of high school where I had left off. Back on time, I had attended an art school, from which I had received a year-end certificate, but my son's birth a few months later brought that journey to a standstill. In the end, I was not certain that getting my high school degree would offer me a wealth of prospects, but it had the merit of being a goal to achieve. The bare minimum required that would allow me to go to university at any time, and to prove to myself and others that I was not a mere failure. The idea of obtaining my degree delighted me and provided something additional to cling to.
On the first day of term, to my surprise, I saw a former schoolmate. William, also known as Willou or the Mexican! We had been as thick as thieves in those days, and even more; few people had meant as much to me during my teenage years as him. We lost touch, because of me of course...
I had this unfortunate tendency to push away those I loved when I felt they were becoming too attached to me or when they fell in love. William had been no exception. I was painfully aware of how I had mistreated his feelings for me. I wanted to protect him from myself, fearing that I would drag him down with me, but being unable to choose between my love and reason, I had undoubtedly caused more harm than good. Nevertheless, he had been a faithful friend and lover, always by my side for the best, and often for the worst. I had been his first time on his eighteenth birthday, and we had shared many tender moments and fits of laughter despite the whirlwind that was Valentine. My behaviour with William had been dreadful in many ways, yet how deeply I had cared for him and loved him! I had loved him in the clumsiest and most likely cruellest way possible. But now, remorse could not change nothing. Time seemed to have healed the wounds and bitterness. We found it quite amusing to be reunited here, and especially, in the same class. We reminisced about the good old days, overlooking the bad. We caught up on what each of us had been up to in recent years. It was as if we had never been apart. Our camaraderie re-emerged instantly. So too did the temptation to act foolishly in class.

As the days went by, a group of friends formed: Ludo, Ferni, Matt, Will, Lisa, and I. We had developed the habit of going for a beer at the pub after class while waiting for our respective buses. We were all broken by life. Each one of us carried its own burden. For some, it weighed heavier than others. Against a backdrop of punk rock music, we were reshaping the world with our ideas, that we believed to be revolutionary and rebellious, although in reality, we had not reinvented the wheel. The conspiracy theory was our favorite subject, often leading to fiery debates.
From this perspective, one might imagine that all was well in our world. But that was far from the truth. David was making my life a living hell. His heightened jealousy and contempt slowly consumed me. I believe the marijuana was frying his brain cells. One day, he would leave me, only to return the next. And I, as hopelessly in love as I was under his spell, would run headlong into his arms. My love for him was unconditional. I accepted everything without complaint – his excessive reactions, his lack of affection, his indifference, and his predisposition to use me when it suited him. I bent over backward for him. Like a lifeless thing, I remained silent, for I was, in truth, quite incapable of speaking up. I kept everything to myself, as I had always done. I felt as uncomfortable in my flesh as ever, and after a few months of tenuous stability, I sensed the ground slipping away beneath my feet once more. My son slept peacefully in his crib, his Teddy bear nestled close to him in his little arms. I never tired of contemplating at the roundness of his cheeks, his lovely curly hair, and his angelic face. It soothed me. He was the most beautiful thing I had created on this Earth. After ensuring he would not awaken, I went downstairs to the base of my building to catch a breath of fresh air for a few minutes.
I lived in a dead-end street, an old narrow cobbled alleyway with a medieval feel that passed under a wooden arch. It's funny when I think about it. When my friends and I came to seek refuge here on rainy days, we sheltered under the garages playing truant. It was the beginning of mobile phones with cameras, the game Snake, we killed time with what we had. If the sun were to make an appearance, we would continue down the alley a few meters more, leading us to a large, vacant lot, bordered by a stream. Guitars were played, voices harmoniously raised in song, singing Tryö's "L'Hymne de nos campagnes "* or Parabellum's "Mort aux vaches "**. A pack of bad beer was never far from reach, and ganja joyously circulated from hand to hand. We were carefree, ensconced within our own little world. We fancied ourselves as rebels, seeking to defy the system. I smile at the recollection of those memories, for in the end, only the music and the quality of the beer have changed between that time and now.

Seated upon the pavement opposite my building, I could see the partially opened window of my flat and the faint yellow light that illuminated it. Silence reigned over the scene, interrupted only occasionally by scooters or a few wandering souls in search of hash. I lit a cigarette, drew deep puffs from it, and exhaled the smoke, which, like a cloud, dissipated into the sky. The night, enveloped in abyssal darkness, revealed a magnificent display of stars. My thoughts became lost in the vast expanse of the universe. An icy wind pierced my bones and tugged at my flesh, prompting me to don a warmer jacket. But the pain served as a source of calm. And when the ache became almost pleasant, I knew it was a sign that depression and dark thoughts were making their way through me. Melancholy seized me, and then, without warning, my eyes swelled with bitter tears. Yes, the icy wind pierced my bones, but it did not matter. What was the cold compared to the suffering within me, which proved far more infernal than the sobs of winter?

*Anthem of our countryside - French song performed by Tryö

**Death to cows - French punk song performed by Parabellum