Paris, about 15 years before Day I
‘Did we meet yet?’ She asked.
‘I don’t think so.’ He answered.
In fact, she had a very familiar friend, with those big brown eyes. If they had met her before, he would remember her, sure. She was François’ girlfriend. François was the heart of the meetings, a man condemned to have a brilliant future life in politics or something similar. He was able to convince everybody of everything, able to talk and to talk hour after hour about human rights… but his relationship with Lorraine wasn’t the only thing that Alex hated: François detested literature and writing… and he knew that Alex wanted to write.
‘Maybe you can write a book for her, Alex.’ He said sometime. ‘Some girls admire writers. Of course, they are stupid… and Lorraine isn’t one of them. Am I wrong, darling?’ She kissed him and both smiled.
François used all his lyrical weapons to control the meetings to get his goal. When someone talked about poetry or theatre, he used to let them talk for a long time, planning his strategy to win. Five or ten minutes later, he had the last sentence for the conversation… and the conversation had only one winner: François.
‘I know some kind of people can feel intimidated by me… are you agree with me, Alex?’
Silence, just silence and nothing more than François listening the echoes of victory.
‘What’s the most fantastic thing, mates? You like arts and poets, I know… that’s not your fault. You have still time, let grow your ideas. They invented stories to try just one thing: to get the reality, to became something like a little god in a little world. I think it’s stupid, I prefer to get this great world of reality, this world of infinite possibilities and good people like you.’
‘He was good with me at the beginning, Alex.’ Lorraine said. ‘You know him, he can be a so convincing man!’
Alex never said the sentence, the only sentence he would like to say in his whole life: ‘come with me, Lorraine.’
‘What?’ François tried to answer.
‘I’m pregnant, François.’ She repeated.
… But when she came to Alex little room, he understood François. How can he lose his life for the fault of another one? How could they live? He listened Lorraine’s words and he felt his sweet breathe inside his skin… but he couldn’t either.
‘I’m feeling alone for the first time in my life, François.’ And she waited to find Alex eyes into François face.
‘Don’t worry, darling.’ Both answered with the same voice in different times. ‘This sensation would be very familiar in a couple of years.’