SIERRA'S LEONE

DO THE DOO-DOO

Jonas piqued Sierra's interest. Even though Sierra still harbored suspicions about him, she had to admit the man had a thoughtful and kind side to him.

Sierra wondered why Cecile kept Jonas in the dark about Leone or even why they weren't together.

"Jonas, can I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Don't answer if you're uncomfortable."

The man smiled, "go ahead."

"Why did you guys split up?"

Sierra, too, wished to understand Cecile's and Jonas's status. Only the unsent letters revealed his existence. Without them, Jonas was a nobody in Sierra's records.

"We weren't together; Cecile would come and go. We were on and off for three years. I knew she had issues; I just profited from her presence and made abstraction of the rest, but a year ago, I blew up. I told her to choose life with me or her dead end. She left, and I never saw her again. I closed my eyes on the other men and her addiction. I was weak; I let her down. I should have stopped her."

Jonas regretted; Cecile was broken porcelain. Though sealed, one could see the cracks. Cecile was a living wound, yet she filled the lives of those she loved with joy.

The man recalled the heated arguments and him begging behind closed doors while the woman climbed out the window and ran off to get her Fix.

"We all let her down, Jonas. Don't be too hard on yourself. I naively thought she was having fun somewhere when she suffered."

Sierra remembered how Cecile reacted when the Gauthiers threw her out. She expected Cecile to be mad at her for persuading her to talk to her parents. Instead, Cecile thanked Sierra.

"I'm free; I won't ever go back to that house again."

For a few months, Cecile lived with Sierra, and then one day, she disappeared. Left behind, Sierra searched for her friend high and low only to receive a postcard from Brussels with don't worry, I'm okay written on it. From then, their friendship became a succession of letters and long-distance phone calls.

Cecile always gave her all, love and trust. Despite numerous deceptions, the woman's feelings remained sincere.

The Tiramisu seemed to implode in Sierra's stomach. Cecile was a subject that affected her in different ways, but here the woman knew the issue was elsewhere.

"Are you okay, Sierra?"

"I think I overate. It's getting late; perhaps we should get back."

Jonas nodded and called the waiter, who deposited their note.

"Leave it to me, Jonas."

"No, Sierra, this is for me. I'm living at your place for free, remember."

"You do the cleaning, and it's already enough." Sierra pulled the little tray with the paper towards her.

"No, please, Sierra," the man said and placed his hand on top of hers, which covered the tray.

Surprised by the gesture, Sierra pulled her hand away. The woman did not insist further, and the man did not even seem to realize what happened.

Her stomach took up all her thinking space. She found a little relief once outside, letting the air carry away the silent farts.

The car, on the other hand, was another trial. The woman could barely focus on the road.

"Sierra, are you sure you're okay?"