First meeting
It all starts at the start of the school year at 2of. Stéphanie and I are in the same class, in a high school in Val-d’Oise. We’re a bunch of pals and girlfriends, but I only have eyes for her, with her amazing smile and brown curls. One autumn afternoon, we all meet at a friend’s mother’s house to watch a movie. We’ve been inseparable for a while now, but that’s where, glued to each other on the couch, our story begins. I don’t remember exactly, I forgot what movie it was. But from that year, I remember every morning when we wait on the platform of the commuter train, the lessons we pass next to each other to discuss and be reprimanded by the teacher, and the sunny days when we lie side by side on the lawn. She is very studious, I often skip class to save places in the canteen and make sure I eat next to her. She is deeply cheerful and she talks all the time, it suits me well, it saves me talking. On the other hand, I write him letters. Several hundred, in a fountain pen: I give them to her every day when I see her. I talk to her about herself, about life, about my way of seeing the world and people… the kind of ambition one can have at that age.
The summer following the 2of, we go on vacation each on our own. And there, I receive a letter in which she puts an end to our relationship, without explanation but without ambiguity. I am completely devastated. At the start of the school year, I don’t ask him anything. It’s not my personality type. It is only the beginning of an asymmetrical relationship, where a large part of the answers remain in silence. We continue to see each other, we remain friends, but we are no longer together. I’m still madly in love with her, and just continuing to see her is enough for me. I go out with other girls with a broken heart.
We are starting our studies in Paris, law and political science for me, pharmacy for her. We continue to see each other, there is always a real bond between us. Regularly, I join her and take pharmacy lessons sitting next to her. I would have given anything for those moments. I meet other girls, I have opportunities, but I am unable to move on. I never tell her about my feelings; I know she knows them, so I don’t want to ask her questions, I’m just trying to work with the situation.
Then, one day, I realize that she has someone in her life. A pretentious commercial. I see it very badly. However, I too go out with a girl, with whom it becomes serious. We are 21 years old, and Stephanie tells me that she is getting married. I’m present at the wedding, with my girlfriend, and it’s a horrible memory. At the church, when the priest pronounces the famous sentence, “if anyone wants to oppose this union”, I have an urge to scream immeasurably. I’m sick of being there at this party, one of the worst times of my life.
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