DISABILITIES CHRONICLES
- Are you okay ? Wasn't it not too hard to come ? She asked him as he got off the bus.
She had come to welcome him at the bus stop. He had deliberately chosen an apartment in the center so he could come home at any hour of the day or night when he got drunk. She knew he had made an effort to travel those kilometers to her place... She stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. A friendly kiss, of course. He was very tall, probably two heads taller than her. They both felt a little awkward, not quite knowing what they were doing here, on a Sunday afternoon in this ghost town.
- No, it was easy. He replied quite mechanically, without really looking at her. He was already walking towards her residence at a rather brisk pace.
In fact, yes, he knew very well what he was doing there ; it was simply that usually, he didn’t walk miles to do it. The city center was his favorite hunting ground. The bars, in particular. Because in clubs, you had to dance. And that was not his strongest asset for charming girls and getting them into his bed.
- So, what are we eating ? He asked in turn.
Although the main dish was her. Yes, he had come to sleep with her and barely hid it.
- Italian food ! Since I can’t travel to Italy, I’ll seek the sun like this... It's a pretty cloudy weather, today...
- Ah, okay. He replied, not more curious than that. And how is your ankle ? He asked, more to keep the conversation going than out of curiosity.
- It’s getting better…
They were now walking side by side like two strangers. At a certain distance and without looking at each other. When they reached her apartment, he sat down on the sofa. Two Pastis were placed on the coffee table for the aperitif. They had tried to eat on the terrace, under the fresh breeze of the linden trees and their summer manes, but Pamit had complained about the mosquitoes. He had also complained about the food, which did not suit his taste buds. Kebabs and other pizzas appealed more to him. Not to mention the Indian curry chicken. In short, he preferred the things he was used to, a bit like children who only like fries. So they had retreated to the living room. No need to drag this story out any longer anyway. He didn't plan to linger here. He would chat a bit, drink, take some ketamine to make it better, he would fuck, and leave as he came. Now that's a recipe that works ! He was still curious to 'taste' her. There was something special about this Frenchwoman, after all. A quirk that didn’t leave him indifferent. In short, she wasn't stupid at all. Well, he would soon be leaving anyway. After doing what he had to do…
- So, Sweden was good ?
- Yeah, not bad, I hooked up with a Swedish girl…
The conversation immediately shifted to this more or less cultural aspect of Sweden.
- Oh really, that’s how you are ?
- Well yeah, what do I have to lose ?
- I don’t know, I think it doesn’t make much sense, you’ll never see her again…
- So what ? It was nice, we had a good time ! The rest, we don't care about.
- I find you quite cynical. It's like you don't care about anyone.
- Yeah, I don't. You can block me tomorrow, I don't give a shit about it ! He laughed theatrically to emphasize his superiority and indifference.
- And with the Korean girl, did you keep in touch ? You experienced so many things together ! She continued, after pausing for a moment, to kinda put a bit of softness in the conversation.
- No, it's over, she went back home. I don't believe in long-distance relationships.
- That's more of a good excuse to move on to the next girl…
He didn't reply. Probably out of modesty. His Sikh culture sometimes took a little precedence over him. But deep down, he still wanted to live a western life, with cultural or religious traditions that weren't too burdensome, mainly based on food, because curry chicken tastes good. She noticed that he hadn't taken off his sunglasses.
- Why are you wearing sunglasses when we're inside my place ?
He immediately took them off, with a defiant look.
- You have something there... She said, pointing at his right eye.
- Yes, I know. His tone had become aggressive.
- How come ? She insisted, unable to suppress a mocking smile. His right eye was squinting, with an empty gaze. That's true. She quite liked the idea that this Don Juan was in a position of weakness for once.
- I had myopia surgery when I was younger... in Canada. The operation went badly.
- Yet, I thought the technology was more advanced than that over there...
- Canada is not the United States. And back then, it was different, the machines weren't that refined... He retorted, a jaded look on his face.
He must have been asked that question often and was probably tired of answering it.
- How long ago did it happen ?
-10 years. But with the contact lenses, it’s going very well. His tone was no longer as aggressive but still firm enough to make his interlocutor understand that the discussion was now closed.
He had a strong character. Even too strong. A character that camouflaged a deep lack of self-confidence, like a kind of ransom, compensation. She had put herself at a good distance from him on this couch to let him know that they actually weren't obliged to fuck right away, that they could also talk beforehand, to get to know each other at least a little.
She felt that she had opened a breach, managed to penetrate a fragment of him, of who he really was, by shedding light on one of his weaknesses as she had done. This could not be denied and it was quite destabilizing.
He lowered his dark eyes and drank the Pastis cul-sec. Then, he resumed the thread of the conversation as if nothing had happened. It was him, this time, who would choose what they would talk about. He would regain control of the situation, down to the smallest detail, as usual. It would be of course a superficial topic, and above all, that would not involve talking about him.