L'Etoile Rose

Chapter 9

The second week of training had started in the rain. The sailing course was nevertheless maintained, because the wind remained moderate. Like every morning on the beach, it was Dominique who formed the teams. Dressed in a red K-way to try to stay dry, but barefoot in the wet sand, drops of water rolling on his nasal bridge, he kept smiling, while around him, the atmosphere of the group was rather sullen, like a day after a party.

The day before, at the end of the concert, we were forced to return without delay because the clouds had piled up worryingly on the horizon.

The return trip was done in one go, and when we arrived at the hostel, the group had dispersed quickly. Dominique had joined his caravan, which was set behind the hostel, with a "good evening everyone! Sleep early, tomorrow we resume training", which had marked a bit abruptly the end of this Sunday, however, extraordinary for me in many ways.

I had indeed felt that day, maybe for the first time, that I was part of a group, a group of friends, musicians, who played in the cafes of the beach. And I had remembered, before falling asleep, that my school art teacher had given us "happiness" as a topic that we had to express in drawing, two or three years ago, and that I drew, after careful reflection, as if this drawing was a personal commitment, a group of friends on the beach, one of them holding a guitar. The very idea I had of happiness was thus given to me to live that summer.

"If you thought sailing was nothing more than a nice hobby to do while on vacation, well now you'll understand that it's a real sport that requires endurance and strength. You'll have to accept the elements, to be one with his boat, to remain attentive despite the rain and the wind, to remain receptive "...

I watched Dominique as he spoke and I remembered the speech he gave us the day we arrived, a little over a week ago. He was still the same bright young man, attractive, but now I avoided crossing his eyes. Something in my heart had closed since the episode of the shower, without, at that very moment, analysing how I felt. Without knowing it, I didn't trust him anymore, and so, if I always wore a friendly smile, if I was always sensitive to his charm, my eyes, they fled from him.
He was now planning the boat itinerary and giving his instructions. He did his job well, knowing how to motivate everyone with a kind word or a joke.
" Where is Anne?" he asked Julien, "did you fight?"
"No," smiled Julien, "she stayed at the hostel this morning to work a little on her thesis. "Anyways, it's raining, you've got to be crazy to come to the beach!"

"Well, we'll test you then! You'll team up with Betty and Chantal, two pretty girls, we'll see if you're faithful!"

Everyone had laughed, but I didn't like that joke: for me, it reflected the spirit of Dominique, but did not suit Julien at all. Anne and him, it was not a game, nor an easy joke. For me, they were the model of true love, which Dominique did not understand.
"Are you coming, Betty?" Called me Julien, handing me a lifejacket. So I had to get a move on, put my vest over the wet K-way. There was a lot of work to do before boarding, and it was not pleasant in the rain: detaching the boat, lifting the anchor, pulling the boat into the water, then checking the equipment, detaching and hoisting the sails ..
I did my part without a word, reluctantly, while Chantal was chatting with Julien. She was a tall dark girl, somewhat masculine, who studied computer science like Julien. She looked like a real sea bass that day, joked Julien, with a hooded yellow wax that covered her completely. With good humour, she had put herself at the helm, heading for the little island known as Silver, according to Dominique's instructions.
 "Why is it called like that, this island, do you think, it's just a little island of nothing at all!" She had pointed out.

"Perhaps it was sheltering a treasure once upon a time," Julien had suggested, "what do you say, Betty? with this mechanical gesture of furring in his curly hair, to dishevel them a little more.

In spite of myself, I had decided to make an effort to participate in the conversation:
"Perhaps because it was once covered with aspen, you know those trees with silver foliage, which rustle in the wind, there are many here.

"Hmm, pretty, this explanation," had judged Chantal with a smile, "it's unlikely but poetic!"

Julien then surprised me:

"Yes," he said, "that's Betty's poetic explanation, she's like that, Betty, naturally poetic!

I blushed, of course, surprised that he had an opinion on me, a rather flattering opinion even. I didn't know anything about him. For me, it was Anne's boyfriend, a visibly kind guy, but rather discreet, it seemed to me; or it was because Anne was so important to me, so bright, that I had hardly seen him. But he, Julien, was of that generous nature who loves people and is interested in everyone.
"Is that true? continued Chantal, she too with an apparently sincere interest, you write poems, Betty?

"No," I had confessed, eyes fixed on the sail beating in the wind, "no, but I want to so much!"

I had forced my voice a bit, to make myself heard, over the sound of wind and waves, it seemed to give importance to my remarks, and my eyes had finally crossed that of Julien, completely attentive.
How did we get there? In the rain, in front of almost strangers, here I was expressing aloud my most secretive of dreams!
It was Chantal's smile that was inviting, just like Julien's so friendly look.
"You will write soon, I am sure," said Julien with conviction. When you want to work on a new project, in computer science, you always have to define it first, express it, almost as you just did, then you can start working.
"Absolutely," Chantal added, "it's called fixing a project, in computer science, that's to say, a bit like giving birth to an idea. You have to give birth to the project by word of mouth" ...
 And then both of them began to talk about the respective projects they had worked on. "Imagine, Betty what the first project that I formulated was about," said Chantal laughing, "it really had nothing poetic about it."The thin, gloomy rain continued to fall in a foggy curtain around us, and the little sailboat, struggling against the waves to reach the Isle of Silver, was transporting this pure moment of friendship as though it was transporting a treasure.

*********

I need me a trip to an island ASAP, 

love you guys, 

❤ Merci beaucoup ❤