L'Etoile Rose

Chapter 18

At breakfast the next morning the atmosphere was heavy. The smoking coffees in the bowls had perfumed the whole inn, like every morning, and outside, the sun was already shining, inviting us to be carefree. 

But I swallowed my sandwiches without tasting them, and I heard, just beside me, Sophie's ceaseless and one-sided chatter without understanding anything. I was ashamed, ashamed of Dominique, who was sitting a few places away, and who had remained silent.

It was the first time that morning that our eyes had not crossed to say hello and smile at each other for a moment, from distance. Anne and Julien had sat down at the coffee table in the corner where all the couches where, they did not speak either. It was a long way from the joyous mess that usually accompanied our meals. Even Laurent seemed hostile and distant, as if he knew. There was only Sophie talking, she continued to comment on the predictions of the gypsy, insensitive to the embarrassment that seemed to me to have invaded the entire space. No doubt she had not known anything about what had happened last night, no doubt she was sleeping deeply when Dominique came, everyone had gone to bed very late.All the same, silence had ended up winning her too, and had dominated the whole room in a totally incongruous way, so heavy in my heart, so unbearable - I was always embarrassed for others, even more than for myself - which pushed me to do what I had never done: to speak in public and spontaneously, drawing all the attention to myself. The words came out of my mouth uncontrollably, completely impulsively , echoing wildly in space: "this clock behind my back is so annoying!" Every time I turn to read the time, I have the impression to be the pink star, in Nemo! "
The silence that preceded my words lasted ... Everyone took a few moments probably to visualize the pink star stuck to the wall of the aquarium to better see what was happening outside, then half turned, taking off two of his arms, to warn his friends, the fish, of the arrival of an intruder.

Then suddenly, like a surf, a general laughter broke out, breaking the ice.

"The pink star," Dominique repeated, wiping his eyes full of tears as he laughed, "I was asking myself where I had seen, that beautiful face, that I know too well ... But of course, it's the pink star!"

"Incredible Betty! added Anne, approaching, laughter on her lips, the pink star, it suits you well!"

 I got up, red and embarrassed at the magnitude of their reaction, but also happy with the effect produced ...

"You're staying with me this morning aren't you? We have things to talk about, right? Or do you prefer to go sailing? Anne had her arm around my waist ..."

"You're right, I want to rest a little!"

Actually, I felt better now, much better than the day before and now that I had managed to break the silence that weighed on us like a thunderstorm on the verge of exploding, I laid on the world once again my naive and benevolent look. However, the idea of finding myself that morning again on the Mariniers beach , facing Dominique, waiting for his instructions, avoiding his eyes, was above my strength.

Right at the end of breakfast, I had warned Sophie, knowing that she would ask questions if she didn't see me, as  she often took the protective attitude of the big sister around me, "Im staying here this morning, I'm having my period, I'm going to read a little, "and I took my big novel and went to lie on the deck chair near the apple tree. 

One after the other, they had all gone on bicycles towards the beach. I had seen Laurent leave without seeing me, in the company of Serge and other boys. Then I decided to stop looking in the direction of the bicycle shed and began focusing on Aurelian, without taking a second to  think about myself.

 Anne had told me that she wanted to work a little first, transcribe the ideas that had come to her, she explained, during the "crystal ball" evening, she had about one hour, then she said we would go out together.

I had been reading for a little while already, I had completely forgotten the apple tree, the garden, the inn, to carry me into the Paris of the thirties and accompany Aurélien in his nocturnal wanderings, when the door of the caravan had suddenly opened.

It was Dominique, wearing shorts, a red cap, a gray T-shirt, and new sneakers, he was ready for his day, certainly late. He stopped for a second at my sight. There was only us at that time in the garden, at this early hour when it was already hot but where the greenery was still dewy. Dominique had walked towards me without hesitation, and I had dropped the novel of Aragon without hesitation. It was the first time since the beginning of the course that we were alone. Dominique had sat down by my long chair, picking up my fallen book in the grass, and our eyes had crossed for a moment.

"Betty," he said with a contrite smile, "I'ld like to apologize for last night ... I had too much to drink and then ... you know that I like you! - charming smile - I was really bad, will you forgive me? And again a seductive smile.

"Yes, of course I'll forgive you," I was eager to answer, embarrassed by the whole situation, because I hated to evoke with him such a painful scene, ashamed for him as much as for me.

"Say, pink star, I ruined everything, didn't I? Or do you still like me a little?"

He had taken off his cap and was shaking slightly his brown hair still wet after the morning shower.

"Don't worry, everything's fine..." I had repeated, cheeks red, eager to close the conversation.

"What are you reading? he continued, changing the subject, "ah, a novel of Aragon, I know his poems... And you like it? It's a little serious for a vacation!"

"It's alright, I like it enough .." I replied with a polite smile.

"You're not coming this morning to the beach? I hope it's not because of ..."

"No, no," I had interrupted him abruptly, "I just wanted to ... change a little. We'll go for a walk, me and Anne..."

Dominique had risen, handing me my book. "O.K. Betty, I'll let you read, see you later,"

The scene could have been romantic. Instead, it had reduced itself to an exchange of deceptive smiles, to an abortive explanation. I had succeeded, by my smiling politeness, in keeping Dominique at a distance, very far from my heart.

In spite of all my talent for rejecting the disturbing ideas, I could not resume the course of my reading, to enter the story again, while Dominique was already moving away on the road.

"Betty, come with me in my caravan, you're so pretty" ... And I still heard his laughter, his anticipated pleasure. I repelled this memory with violence whenever it presented itself to me. I preferred the scene of the cherry: "Hey, little girl, bite that, you'll have sweet dreams ..."

I had now closed my eyes and I was almost dozing, while these images jostled in my head, like a film, with in the background the small noises of the garden, the song of a bird, a window being opened. And I could have stayed there for hours, halfway between dream and reality, dancing in this area of artistic blur, surfing my way on the tumultuous waves of memory.

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