COUNTRYSIDE GETAWAY
I was watching the umbrellas go by in front of the laundromat window. Blue, parma, green... I clung to these spots of color that skipped along an invisible horizontal. It had been raining for several days in Paris, and everyone was carrying on with their frantic hyperactivity, trying to ignore the general gloom. Although it was the eve of the weekend, it felt like Monday every day.
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I pestered my laundry tub up the building's too-dark stairs and planted myself in front of Jérem.
Sitting uncomfortably on the armrest of the faded sofa, he was totally absorbed by his phone. Apparently immersed in writing an urgent e-mail for work, he paid me no attention. In two steps, I was in front of the closet, grabbing my yoga bag to stuff in a sweater and toothbrush. In our ludicrously arranged 23m² all-purpose room, Jérémy scrutinized me, fearful, detailing my determined air and my buckled suitcase. |
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I'd made up my mind a few minutes earlier as I inhaled the scent of clean laundry. I was running out of air in Paris. The miserable weather was preventing us from living, and yet time continued to fly by. I wanted to hit the road, turn on the wipers and the heating in the old 205 to erase my melancholy. My dark-haired friend understood, noting my smirk. The idea wasn't to splurge on hotels and activities. I just wanted to let myself go, to deconstruct everyday life, to enjoy the simple things. |
We'd spend the night at Mamie Yvette's, less than an hour from Paris. Between the Formica kitchen and the living room with its floral tapestry, it would be a Saturday out of time. I could already smell the indescribable odor of the cast-iron radiators and hear their clanking that reminded me of a sailboat in turmoil. If you accidentally leaned on them while they were heating up, you'd be sure to scream in surprise. My grandmother was amused
"It's to remind you that you're alive, my darling.
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After braving the weather without hurrying, we arrived at the garage door in golden oak panelling. Jérémy kissed me tenderly. The downpour had stopped, but we remained gently embraced in the Peugeot like tired old men. It felt good to do nothing in the silence of our calmed breaths. |
