L'Etoile Rose

Chapter 17

But the next day and the following days, my relationship with Dominique would not see improvement, nor the intentions to one another got clearer. The training days were well filled and Dominique would always manage the teams so that I'm never with Laurent. The days passed and we were already in our third week of training.

For a few days already, I felt disgusted with everything, I saw all in black and the people around me gave me nausea. I'ld even wince at times when walking by one of my friends, instead of the usual smile, and I went so far as to insult Sophie and Serge in a whisper, whom I had seen kissing near the bikes' shed. 

(What kind of love was pushing them towards each other?) Was Serge trying to forget about Lucie or was it an attempt at pleasing Sophie, or had destiny struck again?) I had watched them for a few seconds, astonished. and then looked away, disgusted, even angry. It was he, Serge, who spoke so much of love, of love at first sight, when he told his story with Lucie, with tears in his eyes! I wondered how he could now kiss Sophie, her shiny lipstick and her oiled skin.

I was exasperated also that day by Madame Dupeigne, and the evening she had imagined to save some money for her gypsy friend. She had tidied up the great hall after the evening meal, and installed floating flavoured candles, here and there, from which rose a sweet scent. She had remained standing, master of ceremonies, the cigarette at the corner of her lip, with a half-smile that contradicted her unfathomable and unpleasant look. 

She was in my eyes so incomprehensible and disturbing, full of bad thoughts, that I systematically avoided running into her, and as she sat enthroned that night, organizing her "crystal ball" party and setting up her friend Mira at our table, just below the marine painting, I had stood aside, sitting on the old sofa near the piano. 

Through the open window, the air of the sea was my only consolation, my escape ... I even held it against Anne, who, with her big black notebook well in hand, gave her full attention to the attraction of the day, carelessly crumpling her long cotton dress openwork against the worn wood of the dining-room table on which she had sat, her bare, tanned legs swaying in the air.

It was Chantal, the modern young woman, the computer expert, who had volunteered for the first consultation of the stars. She had first put some money into a metal cup destined for that purpose, and then sat down in front of Mira and her iridescent glass ball that glistened under the shining candles.

"A big challenge awaits you, my daughter, you'll be offered a job in a big company, within a few months, at most a year, abroad, you will have to leave everything ... it will not be easy ... I see tensions, a woman especially, who will oppose your departure ..." The voice of the gypsy was like a whisper that forced everyone to be silent. Chantal kept her calm and her smile, until the end of Mira's soliloquy, then the cries had rocketed, the bravos, the applause, for this promise of a brilliant future ...

I stayed on the couch, away from the group that had formed around the gypsy, heavy hearted without really knowing why. Dominique was not there, he didn't appear at the inn that night, but it was not the reason behind my sadness, because his absence now freed me from tension. No, it was rather a general rejection of life, as it was performed in front of me. I felt upset to see them take their future, their destiny as a joke, something that could be entrusted to anyone, to a Mira, under the pretext that she wore a long skirt and that she had a crystal ball.

After a few minutes, while Serge was playing this game of guesses and so-called "predictions", Laurent had unfolded his long legs and, crossing the room, he had come to join me. No doubt he had observed from afar, on my childish face, the sadness and the confusion, for leaning towards me, he had suddenly taken my hand in his... My heart had jumped, my cheeks burned: "don't give that pretty hand of yours to this witch that pretends to know the future, don't let her meddle with your life, you're pure, she's a liar!"

All of a sudden, he was very close to me, and I felt that he read what was in my heart, that he suddenly really knew me, much more than that day when I already felt like we were close, where he had told me in the car "If you loved me, I think I would be stronger and I would know what to do with my life." We hadn't had since another opportunity to speak alone, so I had left him my hand for a moment, keeping silent, then I had gotten up saying:

"you're right, I have nothing to do here tonight, and I'm tired, I'm going to bed."

"Good night Betty," he added, his face both young and serious, a face of a young man on which one still clearly read the memory of the little boy he had once been. And Anne had repeated, turning her beautiful eyes to me for a moment, "good night Betty!", Words whose sweetness and friendship had accompanied me, while I went away alone outside, in the darkness , towards the showers.

Bright red blood flowed a few seconds later on the white enamel toilet. Brutally a simple and physiological explanation had imposed itself. I heard my mother say to me, "You're in a bad mood, you'll probably have your period soon," and my God, how these mood movements seemed real, that this blackened vision of the world during the few days before my periods were shouting with truth! 

But then, at last, I understood why my heart was so heavy and my body so tired; so I grabbed a sanitary napkin from the sanitary dispenser, put on my pajamas quickly and washed my hands and teeth while looking at myself in the mirror above the sink. My face was pale, with no trace of the colors of summer.

"Good night, Betty ... You, you're pure ..." Always an excessive solemnity in the words of Laurent, but it was the first time that his fervor touched me so much, and I still heard his voice when sleep had won me. I was so tired ... All that theater organised around the gypsy had exhausted me ...

"Betty, come, come ... Wake up!" Another voice urged me now to open my eyes that still felt very heavy. "Come on, little girl, come with me ... you're so pretty, wake up, Betty!"

Dominique - He was the only one to call me "little girl" - was looking for my shoulder, groping me in the dark. He was laughing a little. "Come on, in my caravan, my beauty, get up Betty!" His breath smelled of alcohol and cigarettes, I was now awake, of course, but I remained motionless, heavy, pretending to sleep again. "come, please "

 At that moment, while Dominique pushed back my cover to make me move better, Anne's voice had risen in the darkness, perfectly high and clear. She spoke as in broad daylight, calmly, without shouting, but with a hard tone, anger held back:

"What are you doing here, Dominique? Don't you know it's forbidden? Don't you know she's a minor? Leave her alone and let us sleep!"

"Ahh, fuck sakes, Anne ... Slow down now! Shut up!"

And immediately dropping my blanket, Dominique had left the dormitory as soon as possible, without adding anything.

The silence reigned again in the dormitory, the scene lasted only a few moments, no one except Anne seemed to have woken up. She had remained in her place in her bed, and I, curiously, had adjusted my blanket, and turned to the other side, almost obscuring, by this very movement, the scene that had just taken place. And I went back to sleep immediately, erasing from my memory all that was embarrassing in what had just happened, without trying to comment on the facts with Anne, or to even process for a second what had just happened to me.

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