Peintures vivantes - Joseph Descamps

Arrivée à la fête

"Did this really happen, to Vincent?" my sister Marion asks me in astonishment, sitting across the kitchen table, her hands holding her face.

I remain silent for a few moments, obviously embarrassed, as I fiddle with my bracelet. Yesterday, when Vincent and I entered my flat, everything was going well.

We had lunch together happily, and stretched out on the old sofa in the living room. After that, yes. The romantic outpourings began, and at that moment I couldn't wait to move on: it had been months since my thoughts had been quite fixed on that fundamental stage that every couple must pass after a certain point in relationship.

But Vincent started to get rather uncomfortable and agitated. At first I took this kind of attitude for granted, as it would be our first time together in bed. After all, I was also very nervous, although of course, as you know, it wasn't my first time in bed with a guy.

As soon as we got to my bed, the trouble started. Let's say, in simple terms, this catchphrase. "The bird did not want to take flight".

Marion, on hearing this descriptive sentence of my failed intercourse with Vincent, bursts out laughing, holding her stomach. 'I hope you didn't say the same words to Vincent...' Annick takes me back, serious and embarrassed.

"No, not at all. I just don't understand what happened in him. Why do you think this thing happened?" I ask both of them.

"He was excited and agitated. I think it's normal for a guy to encounter this kind of problem the first time in bed with a girl." Annick replies, sipping tea from her favourite mug.

"Yes, that is partly true. But I have never heard such a dramatic reaction. From what Romy told us, Vincent was far too agitated." Marion takes it back, observing me.

"How soon is the party?" I ask, finally changing the subject. This incident has taken far too many thoughts and doubts away from me in the last few hours. The important thing now is to have as much fun as possible at the party.

"Three hours, we have to hurry. Vincent, Henri and Charles will be here half an hour earlier to accompany us." Annick answered, heading for the bathroom, followed by us.

"Is Charles coming too?" asks Marion, her face reflecting a shadow of confusion as she looks at herself in the mirror, her expression almost indecipherable.

Annick, distracted, replies: "Yes, why?"

"Oh well... it was just my curiosity. Did you happen to find a girl to bring to the party?" asked Marion, who picked up my favourite brush without even asking permission.

Annick and I exchange a quizzical glance. 'No,' I reply, curious about her reaction. I see her blush from the mirror, and as soon as she meets my gaze, she turns away. "Can I borrow your brush, big sis?"

"As if I didn't already have it in hand..." I reply, and all three of us focus on make-up and hair for the upcoming party.

After about two hours, Marion and I are ready and dressed, both concentrating on Annick's hairstyle. Unlike us, she wears her hair very long, which is why she needs a thought-out and well-done hairstyle.

Running my fingers through her hair, I feel a rather relaxing sensation: her hair is as smooth as silk, and as blond as the wheat growing in open fields in the first weeks of August.

"Do you like it, Ann?" my sister asks her, revealing her hairstyle through the mirror. Annick's eyes suddenly light up and she immediately thanks us for our work.

As soon as the doorbell rings, Marion, with her usual infectious enthusiasm, rushes to the door, and after looking through the peephole laughing, opens the door wide, revealing the recognisable figures of Vincent, Charles and Henri.