Peintures vivantes - Joseph Descamps

Petite crise émotionnelle

"Romy?"
"Romy? Why did you call me? Are you crying?" 

"Hey! Can you explain to me what's going on?"

The phone seems to get heavier and heavier in my hands as I listen to the anxious voice coming from the other end of the line. Tears furrow my cheeks, and shortness of breath makes me feel suJocated. My face burns, my eyes grow foggy.

Marion's decisive voice breaks into my confusion, threatening to come here if I don't tell her what is going on. The wound, which I thought had healed by now, suddenly reopens, throwing me into the abyss of anguish.

"A mess happened... please come here. I need you..." I can barely whisper, hearing the phone drop to the floor, receiving no response. I remain locked in the bathroom, enveloped in a silence that amplifies my torment.

After only five minutes in the library, I immediately realised that I was not well; my mind was not staying focused and was wandering, hurt and confused. I therefore decided to go home, leaving my friends alone.

Now I am here: alone, sitting on the floor by the toilet in the bathroom, crying like a helpless child waiting for her sister to arrive. And all this for what? I shouldn't have seen him again, no. More than hurt, it scared me. How many times will we go back to making the same mistakes we've already made. We'll never learn, will we?

After about half an hour, I hear the doorbell of my flat ring insistently, and after getting up and fixing my hair in front of the mirror, I rush to open the door. "What's up with Romy?" Marion asks me rather confused, crossing the threshold of my flat.

I do not have time to answer her that I burst into tears, leaning on her shoulders. We have always been each other's sidekicks, but that is the mission of sisters.

"You're worrying me big sis...tell me something." Marion takes me back, searching my eyes. After a few choked sobs, we sit next to each other on the couch, and I try in vain to wipe away the abundant, silent tears.

"Jo-Joseph..." I sob, squinting and keeping my head well down. "What?" asks Marion, increasingly confused. She runs a hand behind my back, stroking my dark hair. "Joseph." I repeat, trying to keep my voice firm and clear.

Marion, in agitation, grabs my shoulders and nails her sky-bright eyes in mine. Her gaze is worried, confused, angry. "That Joseph...?" "According to you..." I huff exasperatedly, laying a hand on my frantic chest.

Marion runs her hands over her face, about to collapse. 'Shit...' she sighs. 'After the last fight I had with him, Marion witnessed one of my strongest emotional breakdowns ever, and as he's always said and always will say, it wasn't pretty at all.

"Leave Romy alone, you don't have to suffer..."
"He is engaged to Helene! I don't believe it! You should have seen his face when he recognised me at the bar!" I shout, interrupting my sister.

"Romy you need to calm down." Marion takes me back, but I feel my veins like rivers overflowing.
"Who is Helene?" my sister asks me confused, and for a moment, I burst out laughing; I don't know whether from stress, fear, or Marion's confusion.

"Pichon's sister." I reply, and see her move a lock of hair behind her ear. "I understand..."

"No Marion, you don't understand! I shouldn't have seen him again. NO! This is a disaster, a wound that was too painful and had yet to fully heal has reopened!" I scream in anxiety. For the remaining three hours, I rest my head on my sister's shoulder, busy consoling and reassuring myself.

"How is Vincent?" she asks me, finally changing the subject. I slowly stand up and tie my hair in a messy tail, then run my hands over my face. "He's fine..."

"He hasn't asked you to be his girlfriend yet?" she asks me jokingly, with a hint of mischief in her tone of voice. Marion has always been like that: much more frivolous than me, more romantic.

I laugh along with her, feeling the built-up tension, slipping over me. "No, but I hope he does soon." I say hopefully.
"I really love him. He is sweet, kind...polite. Very romantic." I continue, in a dreamy mood.

"I wonder what it will be like to make love with him..." sighs Marion. I immediately punch her in the shoulder, indignant. "Always thinking about that!" I take her back, and we both laugh.

"What's wrong with that. And it will happen sooner or later anyway." "Are you sure?" I ask her.

'Yes Romy, you are a couple now, though not yet official. You love him, and he loves you more than anything else in the world, I can tell. I've seen the way he looks at you."

Marion's words make me dream, and the anxiety accumulated at her arrival, vanishes completely, as do the negative thoughts. "Are you sure?" I ask her again.

Marion laughs lightheartedly, and getting up from the sofa, does a pirouette in front of me. "You've stewed Romy! You know very well!" she replies, humming. As I watch her carefully, my sister walks over to the window and, looking out into the street, hums. "I'm a little hungry. Do you have anything in the fridge for me?" she asks.

So we decide to have dinner together with Annick, who, in the meantime, has returned to the flat after studying in the library. "What are you cooking?" asks Annick, sitting down at the table and watching us curiously.

"Dear Annick, for you only broth!" Marion jokingly answers her. With what little food we had in the fridge, my sister and I manage to put three nice dishes of pumpkin and gorgonzola cream soup on the table.

"Jeez Marion, since when did you know how to cook?" scoffs Annick, tasting the dish she just received. "What a snake you are..." my sister replies to her, and we all three laugh in chorus.

As I sit down at the table, pulling my plate towards me, Annick gives me a still worried look. "Are you feeling better now?" she asks me softly, as only a dear friend can.

I smile gratefully at her, but something still weighs down my heart. "In your opinion..." I begin, and silence falls in the room. I see my sister and my friend watching me closely, and I reflect on how physically diJerent they are. Marion has hair as black as ravens' coats, eyes as blue as ice and a very thin face. Unlike Annick, with her blond hair like August wheat, bright green eyes and a round face.

"What am I supposed to do... if I. I mean, meet him again?" I ask both of them, feeling their gazes. After a few moments of silence, I hear Annick sigh.

"Try not to give it any weight. I wouldn't know what else to advise you." My friend advises me.

"If I were in your shoes, I would kick his ass big time."
"Marion, watch your language." Annick takes her back.

"I don't care. That's what that boy deserves. He played with my sister's feelings twice. And he's most likely proud of it." Marion snorts, irritated.

"If for that matter, I was wrong too." I reply, keeping my gaze down, afraid of my sister's reaction. "Don't say that! It's absolutely not true. He is just a bully, full of himself, and..."

"That's enough. We have the picture of the description." Annick interrupts her. She rests a hand on my shoulder, smiling at me. "Don't suffer us Romy. What was will never be erased. Think of everything you have now."

"Meaning?" I ask her.
"A great guy who loves you madly. What more could you want?" 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

author space:

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