Peintures vivantes - Joseph Descamps

Vieux visages

"Can I tell you? Vincent is totally in love with you." Annick's confession takes me by surprise, and as we enter our flat, I turn on the living room lights, illuminating the dark corners.

With a sigh of relief, I free myself from my heels, letting the pain in my feet subside as I drop onto the couch. Annick, thoughtful as ever, puts my heels in the shoe rack before sitting down next to me.

"Do you mean it?" I ask, scanning my thoughts as I reflect on my past love failures.

"Absolutely," Annick replies with conviction. "Every time he looks at you, the world around him seems to vanish. Don't let this opportunity pass you by, Vincent seems to be a very special person." Her sincerity moves me, and a spontaneous smile paints itself on my face as I let hope envelop me.

"I like Vincet a lot, I admit it..."

My confession makes Annick's eyes sparkle, and her smile widens with excitement. Shaking with joy, her blonde hair sways as she shakes her head, sliding the blue headband in front of her eyes. "I KNEW IT!" she exclaims with a cry of joy, unable to contain her excitement.

We both laugh, sitting side by side on the old dark sofa. "Can I confess something to you too?" I ask Annick, and she is quiet again within seconds and stops laughing.

"Yes of course!" she replies beaming at me. Without thinking about the consequences, I say the most wrong thing to say to Annick. "Pichon is still in love with you. I can tell." I exclaim. Annick gets serious in the blink of an eye, and gets up from the sofa, leaning over by the fireplace and lighting a match.

"Hey, what's with you. I'm just saying." I continue, noticing the annoyance growing inside her. I see her crumple up some newspaper sheets angrily and throw them into the fireplace, along with the match. The fire quickly flares up, illuminating her face.

"Yes I know. But I don't like it. This makes him suffer, but I can't help it. I hate this situation honestly. I was hoping it would stop, it's been three years now." She snorts impatiently. On the one hand I understand her, yes.

"I guess, yes."
"No, you don't imagine. The boys who fall in love with you are boys you also appreciate. You don't have that difficulty." She retorts, continuing to shrug at me.

I remain silent for a few seconds, reflecting on her answer. "The boys?" I ask her, marking the 'plural' of the word she used. Annick turns, remaining seated on her knees, and watches me carefully.

"Anyway, it's stressful as it is, and I hate feeling like this every time I go out with him. I see him as a very dear friend, but nothing more. And I know for a fact that I've been breaking his heart for three years, but he won't rest."

I shrug my shoulders, trying to find the right words to comfort her. "I understand that it is difficult, Annick. It's complicated to deal with other people's feelings, especially when they don't match our own. Maybe you should clear the air with him, explain to him kindly and sincerely how you feel." I suggest, hoping I can be of some help.

Annick nods, but I can see that the weight of the situation continues to weigh on her. "I know, I know. I should do it, but every time I think about it, I get anxious." She sighs, running a hand through her hair.

"I understand you. But I think in the end it's better to face the situation rather than leave it uncertain. It may be diUicult at first, but in the long run you will feel relieved to have cleared things up." I try to encourage her, hoping she can find the strength to deal with this sensitive conversation.

After the moment of confidences, I decide it is time to get ready for bed. I can't afford to neglect rest, considering the busy day ahead of me tomorrow between classes and work at the bar during the lunch break. I have to be in top shape to cope with everything.

With this in mind, I retreat to the bathroom for a quick ritual of personal hygiene, granting Annick access for her nightly care. Once my ritual is complete, I allow the soft embrace of the bed to welcome me.

The insistent sound of the alarm clock wakes me up instantly, making me jump out of bed with a gasp. With a groan of exhaustion, I turn off the alarm clock and sit on the edge of the bed, still dazed from the rapidity with which the night has passed. "So sleepy..." I mutter to myself, rubbing my eyes to chase away the drowsiness.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to settle down, I also hear Annick's alarm clock ringing from her room, followed by her sleepy moans.

Within half an hour, we are both ready and dressed to leave the house. The weather is not the best: the air is very humid, and the wind makes my legs shiver from the cold. "What time are you at the café today?" asks Annick, finishing half the bread and jam she hadn't made in time to eat at home.

I reflect on my day's schedule and promptly reply to her. "How about when you finish we meet in the library and study? Maybe Henri is there too." She proposes, and I gladly accept her proposal.

We arrive quite on time at the university, and after meeting Pichon, all three of us enter the lecture hall to attend the first lecture of the day. The time passes quite quickly, between notes, explanations and theorems.

"What are you doing now?" asks Pichon, as he arranges his stuU inside the university folder. Annick, already standing by the exit door, looks at us impatiently. I, clearly still sitting and unprepared, get up. 'I now start working at the bar. I'm also late. See you when I finish in the library?" I ask both of them.

We walk out of the classroom together, and arriving at the crossroads, we stop. "See you later then Romy." Annick greets me. "Good work!" smiles Pichon at me, and as they walk away, I watch them disappear into a crowded corridor.

Without giving it another thought, I rush to the bar hastily, and as soon as I enter the kitchen, my colleague friend Olympe glares at me. 'I thought you were dead. Hurry up, it's full of hungry people here." I nod with a short breath, and run to the closet where we keep all our uniforms.

I quickly put on my blue trousers and shirt, tying my apron around my waist and pulling my dark fringes away from my eyes. Just as I leave the dressing room with tray in hand, a cook abruptly calls me back. "Plates for table eight!" I walk off without a word, already aware that three more hours of pure hell await me.

After my first experience as a waitress, I immediately realised how stressful this job was. A succession of precise demands.

"Waitress, I asked you to bring me another bottle of water!" "Waitress, can you bring me some cheese?"
"Waitress, the sandwich is cold. But can you?!"
"Waitress, bring me a new fork. This one you gave me is stained!" "Waitress, we want to order. We've been waiting too long!"

Immersed in the thousand streams of requests, I do not notice in time a lady approaching, and we end up bumping into each other. Accidentally, I hit a small table behind me, ruinously knocking over the jar of salt and smashing it to smithereens.

After the lady leaves without even apologising, I turn to the small table I just bumped into and bend down to pick up the shards of glass. 'I'm very sorry,' I say quickly, keeping my gaze down.

As I am picking up the pieces, hands reach out to help me. Looking up, I cross Helene Pichon's eyes. I blink to see her after so long, and she smiles lovingly at me.

"Hélène!"
"Hi Romy! Long time!" she greets me in a shrill voice. Man, how much she has changed. When I first met her, she had shoulder-length hair and a much more youthful face. Now the short bob haircut gives her a very mature and charming look.

"Seyedoux?" 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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