Chapter 14 chapter eight

The next day, I woke up with no trouble, only slightly tired and with a sore neck from the way it was tilted.Like all mornings, the sun bathes my bed.I pushed back the sheets, took off my pajamas, and basked in the sun with my bare back.I pressed my cheek against my bent elbow, and saw a large piece of bedsheet nearby, and a fly limping away on a square brick in the distance. The sun is soft and warm, I feel that it shines on the bones under my skin, warming my body with special care.I decided to spend the morning without moving. Slowly, the scene of last night became clear in my memory.I remember telling Anna Cyril was my lover.

This made me laugh.I also remembered Mrs. Weber, and my quarrel with her.I have seen such women all too often: in this class, at this age, they are often repulsive because of their lack of vigor, because of their desire to live.Anna's composure made me think Mrs. Webb was sadder and more nasty than usual.Besides, this should have been foreseen.Among my father's girlfriends, I don't see anyone who could stand the comparison with Anna for a long time.One has to be a little drunk to have a good evening with these guys.Take pleasure in arguing with them, or maintain an intimate relationship with one of the spouses.For my father, it was even simpler: Charles Weber and himself were flamboyant characters. "Guess who will eat and sleep with me tonight? Little Mars, Soler, the one in the movie. When I get back to the house of Sopuy, just..." My father smiled and patted him on the shoulder : "Lucky man! She is almost as beautiful as Alice." These are the words of middle school students.What made these words interesting to me was the enthusiasm and excitement in the way the two of them spoke.Even, on those long evenings, sitting on the terrace at the cafe, I found it interesting to listen to Lombard's melancholy: "I only love her, Raymond! Do you remember the spring before she left?  … A man's life Just playing with a woman, how stupid!" The two men poured out their inner secrets to each other over a glass of wine, although they had a lewd and humiliating side, they were warm and touching.

Anna's friends probably never talked about personal matters.Maybe they haven't been through this kind of romance.Even when they talked about such things, they probably laughed at them out of timidity.With regard to our relationship, I felt I would share Anna's cozy, contagious arrogance... yet I imagine myself at 30 being more like our friends than Anna.Her silence, her indifference, her solemnity will suffocate me.And conversely, 15 years later, slightly jaded, I'd gravitate toward an attractive, slightly jaded man: "My first lover was called Cyril. I was nearly eighteen years old, and the weather was hot at sea..."

I like to imagine the man's face, which will be slightly wrinkled like my father's.Then someone knocked on the door.I quickly put on my pajamas and shouted: "Come in!" It was Anna, who was holding a cup carefully: "I thought you might need a cup of coffee... don't you feel bad?" "I feel fine," I said, "I thought I was a little drunk last night." "Like every time I take you out..." she laughed, "but I should say, you've given me a break...Last night yesterday." I stopped paying attention to the sunlight, and I didn't pay attention to the smell of coffee.I was always so absorbed in my conversations with Anna that I was no longer conscious of my own existence, yet she alone kept me thinking of myself and forced me to judge myself.She put me through some tense, difficult moments.

"Cecile, do you enjoy being with people like the Webbs or the Dupuis?" "I find most of their behavior amusing, but they are ridiculous." She also watched the movements of the flies on the ground.I think flies are probably weak.Anna's eyelids are long and heavy, giving her a tendency to appear arrogant. "You never understood how monotonous their conversation was, how...how should I put it?...vulgar. It was about contracts. Girl, don't the business of the party bother you? " "You know," I said, "I spent 10 years in a monastery, and these people lived debauchery, so these things still fascinate me."

I dare not add that these things make me happy. "For two years," she said, "...it was not a matter of reasoning, nor of morality, but of the senses, of the sixth sense..." I probably don't have this faculty.I clearly feel that, in this regard, I am missing something. "Anna," I asked suddenly, "do you think I'm smart?" She giggled, surprised at my sudden question: "Of course! Why do you ask that?" "You'd answer me like that even if I was an idiot." I sighed. "You often make me feel like you're ahead of me..."

"It's a matter of age," she said. "It would be a nuisance if I didn't have a little more self-confidence than you do. If so, you've got to influence me!" She laughed.I feel like I'm angry: "That's not necessarily a bad thing." "That would be a disaster," she said. She suddenly dropped this relaxed tone and turned to meet my eyes.I was very uncomfortable and moved my body.Even today, I can't get used to the way people stare at you when they're talking to you, or walk up to you to make sure you're listening.Also, it was a miscalculation, because in this situation, all I wanted was to get out, to back off, and I said "yes, yes" while thinking of various strategies to switch feet and escape across the room.I would fly into a rage at their stubbornness, their indiscretions, their demands for exclusivity.Fortunately Anna didn't think she should treat me that way.But she was content to stare at me so intently that it became difficult to maintain the easy, nonchalant tone of my speaking.

"Do you know how Weber's class ends their lives?" I thought to myself, "Weber and my father's class." "In the creek." I said happily. "At a certain age, they are no longer attractive, and, as they say, unattractive. They can no longer drink, but they still want women, but they have to pay them and suffer a lot to get rid of loneliness. They are ridiculed, they are pitiful. It is at this moment that they become sentimental and critical... I have seen many people become poor people like this." "Poor Weber!" I said. I am at a loss.This is the end that threatened my father.This is real!At least, this ending threatened him if Anna didn't come to tend him.

"You don't think of that," said Anna, smiling pityingly. "You don't think much of the future, do you? That's the privilege of youth." "I beg you," I said, "don't speak of my youth in that way. I make as little use of it as possible, and I don't think it entitles me to privileges or understandings of any kind. I don't value it." "Then why are you idle? I value your peace and independence!" I dread such a conversation, especially with Anna. "I don't care about anything," I said. "You know, I don't care about anything."

"You annoy me a bit, your father and you. You don't think about anything. . . . you can't do anything big. You don't know . . . you love yourself like that?" "I don't love myself. I don't care about myself. I don't try to love myself. Sometimes you force me to complicate my life and I'm almost desperate for it." She began humming, with a thoughtful look on her face.I know this song well, but I can't remember what it is. "What song is this, Ana? It's bugging me..." "I don't know." She smiled again, looking a little discouraged. "Lie in bed and get some rest. I'll continue my research on family intelligence elsewhere."

"Naturally," I thought, "it's easy for Father." I knew right here that he would say, "I don't think about anything, because I love you, Anna." No matter how clever she was, the reason In her opinion, it is also passable.I carefully straightened my body and put my head back into the pillow.Despite what I said to Anna, I was still full of thoughts.In fact, she must have said it too tragically; in twenty-five years, my father would be a delightful sixty-year-old with hair full of silver hair, a slight fondness for whiskey, and a penchant for reminiscing colorful memories.We'll go out together, and I'll tell him about my nonsense. He will advise me.I realized that I excluded Anna from this future life.I can't, I can't bring her into it.In this chaotic room, sometimes deserted and desolate, sometimes full of flowers, loud noises and strange accents, and often crowded with luggage, it is impossible for me to notice the order that Anna brought to every place as the most precious treasure, Quiet and harmonious.I am terribly afraid of boredom; since I did fall in love with Cyril and had a physical relationship with him, I probably am not so afraid of the effects of boredom, and my love for Cyril has greatly alleviated my fear.But my fear of boredom and silence still trumps everything else.We, my father and I, had to have external turmoil in order to have inner peace.As for this, Anna would probably not allow it.