fin de siècle ; mixte 1963

chapter 4 ; adolescence didn't make sense

"Come on, Jo, what do you read in your free time? Just tell me!"

"Oh, you don't wanna know what I read in my free time."

"Joseph Descamps, come here at once!"

"You sound like my mother!"

The two of them were running erratically around the boy's room. In his hand, there was a book; a book full of poems of an author whose name Gisele still didn't manage to get out of Joseph's throat. She had no idea why he was so embarrassed of reading poetry, but she was determined to show him that it wasn't anything bad; in fact, it made her like him even more than she already did.

"Come on, Gigi, just give up already! Why can't we do a presentation about your favourite artist?" Joseph was breathless, panting from running around for a few minutes without a break.

He used his height and raised the hand with the book high above his head so that Gisele couldn't reach it. She was annoyed at his behaviour, but didn't show it at all. Instead, she slowly came up to him, trapping him against the wall he was currently leaning on.

"It's embarrassing," she said finally, looking down as if she really was ashamed of saying the name of her favourite artist.

"Really? What could you possibly read that would be so embarrassing to say?" asked Joseph, looking down at her with suspicion.

"I don't want to say it out loud," replied Gisele, meeting his eye. "I am afraid your mother will hear."

"Well, whisper it, then," he said flatly, not convinced of her act in the slightest.

"Alright. Just bend down a little."

Joseph rolled his eye, but complied, knowing that she still wouldn't be able to reach the book.

Gisele came even closer than she already was, putting her hand on his nape. She brought her lips close to his ear, then slowly whispered the name.

Joseph was so astounded that he immediately leaned back and looked at her with astonishment. Unwillingly, his hand fell down, and he didn't even notice, still shocked at what he just heard.

"What the fuck, Gigi?! Since when do you read porn magazines?!"

Gisele used the moment and snatched the book from him, running away to the other side of the room. She was giggling, unable not to, since she saw his expressions: first one at what he's heard, then the second once he realised it was all just a trick.

"You little..." he mumbled, smiling incredulously. "Alright, you won. Still, where do you even know this name from?"

"You're forgetting who my brother is," said Gisele playfully, sitting down next to him on the bed. She finally had the chance to look at the author of the book she was holding and she was quite surprised to see...

"Arthur Rimbaud? That's who you were hiding from me?" she asked, glancing at Joseph with disbelief. She had no idea why he found that so embarrassing.

Descamps looked at her sheepishly.

"Why?" she asked, opening the book at a random page. What immediately brought her attention were the verses that seemingly had been underlined with a pencil.

But, in truth, I have wept too much! Dawns are heartbreaking.

Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.

Acrid love has swollen me with intoxicating torpor

O let my keel burst! O let me go into the sea!