My Day - Endless Note

“I see.” “You see what, exactly?” “You’re one of those girls who never take responsibility for their actions and always have an excuse for everything.” IAN and ZOE Kensington: Welcome to the heart of our region. The traffic sign facing me has always made me smile. Even though I’m only three hours away from home, it feels like light years away from my daily life. Going back to my hometown isn’t easy; perhaps because I never knew how to find my place there. Even at the age of ten, I remember always dreaming of the day I’d leave. The closer I get to the roundabout leading into the city center, the more I feel like turning around and taking the road in the opposite direction. My pact with Amy and Allison, my two best friends, dissuades me, though. I’m here to accomplish a mission, and I must keep my word. I have no attachments in this town anymore. After my father’s death, my mother decided to buy a residence on a sunny island, and she spends her time taking cruises with other retirees or playing bridge or some other fashionable card game. So much the better because my mother and I are on better terms when there is a certain distance between us. I bet she would never have approved my reason for being here today. I booked a room at The Swan, a lovely establishment right in the city center. After taking my suitcase upstairs and calling the girls to inform them I have arrived, I prepare to confront my lifelong nemesis: Solange. Her name doesn’t in any way indicate her origins. Her mother just thought it would be chic to give her a French-sounding name. Who is Solange, and why does she matter enough to make me return to Kensington years after leaving town? Truth be told, she shouldn’t matter, and yet, she still haunts me. If not, how would I explain that when my friend Amy came up with the idea of My Day, which consists of facing a person who has harmed us in the past, I immediately thought about her? She annoyed me throughout our youth and, to top it off, she decided to steal Simon, my boyfriend at the time, just a few days before the year-end high school ball. I blame myself for not reacting back then and especially for having wept for weeks. She wasn’t worth it, and he wasn’t either, but although many years have passed, I still feel some bitterness when I think back to this story. I should have reacted differently. I should have expressed what I really felt instead of pretending that seeing them together all summer did not affect me, then going back home and locking myself in my room to cry. If I hesitated to come, it’s not because I’m afraid of confronting Solange, on the contrary. It’s just that stirring up old memories isn’t what I prefer in life. I prefer to move forward without looking back, but Amy didn’t stop reminding me I had promised to act. So, here I am making faces in front of the mirror of my hotel room. I must admit, I’m rather satisfied with my appearance and ready for a tête-à-tête I foresee becoming explosive. I have always been combative, which makes the way I reacted that summer even more incomprehensible. Fortunately, having to fight in my professional life—I run a law firm specializing in real estate—gave me more confidence. Solange owns a beauty salon on the most commercial artery of the city. However, I don’t intend to visit her at her place of work. I’m going to visit her at her house. This will make it less likely for our discussion to echo throughout the city in a matter of minutes. I take the stairs–a little exercise can’t hurt–and ten minutes later, I’m in front of her house. It’s located in an exclusive neighborhood, which isn’t surprising. Her parents were rather wealthy people and offered her the house after she graduated from high school. They never said no to her. She always had what she wanted, at the risk of spoiling her. “You can do it,” I encourage myself before ringing at the door. The man who opens the door isn’t familiar, but he seems to come straight out of a male fashion catalog. Shaving wouldn’t hurt him, but he probably knows the slight shadow on his face only makes him more attractive. He wears a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that do nothing to hide his athletic body. His smile tells me he noticed I was watching him, so I pull myself together. “Hello, I’m looking for Solange Karlton.” “And you are?” “Her guardian angel.” I have no idea why I responded so foolishly. His sufficient air made me react like a petulant teenager. “I didn’t know guardian angels had such a nice smile … Maybe I should start looking for mine.” You must be kidding! He’s flirting with me. He’s probably Solange’s boyfriend, and he’s flirting with me! Karma exists, I think with a satisfaction that isn’t in my honor. Who knows if I couldn’t pay her back in another way? I’m about to respond to his flirtation, but my brain doesn’t follow because I hear myself say, “Oh, you’re one of those men who think it’s permissible to flirt with other women when their better half is absent?” “I see ... sorry to burst your bubble, but if I wanted to flirt with you, I certainly wouldn’t use a sentence like that. It was a joke to show you how childish your answer to a logical question was.” “Well, now that we know what we think of each other, can I talk to Solange?” “Solange isn’t here.” “Can I wait for her?” “If you wish.” He opens the door wide and leads me into a living room with bay windows that overlook a garden–similar to those seen in interior decoration magazines. “Please, take a seat.” He shows me the chocolate-colored sofa that dominates the right part of the living room. “Do you mind if I leave you alone?” “Not at all.” I take out my tablet and find I have an internet connection, so I seize the opportunity to send a message to the girls: “At Solange’s house waiting for her. Her boyfriend is here. What an oaf!” I don’t have to wait long for them to answer. “Hold on. She has only what she deserves, right?” Amy writes. Allison tries to temper things. “Say nothing to him. Maybe he doesn’t know she’s a brat.” “I wonder in what world Solange deserves such a handsome man. Even if he’s an oaf, he’s very attractive. As for saying nothing to him, I haven’t decided what I should do.” After promising the girls I’ll call them later, I start reading. When I look at my watch again, I realize more than an hour has gone by and Solange is still not here. My host has disappeared although I sometimes hear noises that indicate his presence somewhere in the house. I wonder why Solange hasn’t returned. Her beauty institute must have been closed for a long time by now. My stomach reminds me I haven’t eaten since noon. I counted on having dinner after seeing Solange to celebrate my victory over the old Zoe. I get up and go look for the man who didn’t even have the courtesy to introduce himself–yes, yes, I know, I didn’t do it either, but …— and ask if he knows what time Solange will be back. The kitchen is large and bright, and apparently, someone likes to cook. Unless Solange has completely changed, it must be him. Farther down the corridor I notice a door that is ajar. I knock in case he’s inside, but I don’t get an answer. I push the door to make sure he hasn’t had a heart attack. All right, out of sheer curiosity, but it’s always good to have a ready-made excuse. The decoration of the office suggests it’s a man’s office. I wonder what he does for a living. I hardly have time to venture farther when his voice makes me jump. “Whatever you do, please don’t mind me. Make yourself at home.” I feel the red rising in my cheeks. I’m conscious that I’ve behaved in an improper manner. On the other hand, I was looking for him. “If you hadn’t left me alone for almost two hours, I wouldn’t be looking for you.” “I see.” He hardly hides his smile, and my stupid heart flutters. “You see what, exactly?” “You’re one of those girls who never take responsibility for their actions and always have an excuse for everything.” “Pardon me? No, I’m definitely not one of those girls. I’m a woman, and I always take responsibility for my actions.” I’m about to add that this description fits Solange like a glove, but I manage to abstain. I don’t want to get into a verbal conflict with a man I don’t know. Besides, I realize it may not have been a very smart idea to enter the house of a stranger. “So, now it’s the word ‘girl’ that is an issue for you? Can you explain to me?” His mocking tone makes me mad. I have the feeling he’s having fun provoking me. I won’t give him the satisfaction of responding to his provocations. “I just want to talk to Solange, and she’s still not here. You know what time she will be back?” “Isn’t that a question you should have asked when you rang at my door?” “I assumed she would be here any minute.” “Then you assumed wrong.” “Excuse me. Do you take a malicious delight in not giving me a direct answer?” “It seems to be the case, doesn’t it?” I breathe deeply to calm myself down. “Please, do you know what time Solange will be back?” “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He walks out of the office, and I follow him into the living room. “According to my information, she went to live abroad with her husband, so I don’t know if she will ever come back.” That’s not possible! I let myself fall on the sofa. “Excuse me,–but you’re joking, right? No one would behave so immaturely. Solange doesn’t live in town anymore, and you tell me I can wait for her as if she were coming back any minute?” “When you put it that way, my behavior seems very strange, indeed. But if we take things the way they actually occurred, there may be another interpretation. You asked me if you could wait for Solange, so having no objection to that–I was rather intrigued by your presence–I naturally agreed. And then, who knows? Solange may come back one day to show her husband where she grew up, and her return may take place tonight.” “Okay, it’s official. You’re insane!” I begin to think it seriously. Who else would behave in such a crazy manner? I can say goodbye to my confrontation with Solange, which will remain a regret forever, but I can avoid adding a new regret to my list. “You know what? I was planning to leave without saying anything, but I realize that if I came to see Solange, it was to put her in front of her unspeakable behavior toward people, something I should have done years ago. I haven’t, though, and I’ve always regretted my lack of courage. However, I have no excuse for reproducing this kind of error. “I’m no longer a teenager, so I can’t leave this place before telling you that you are a very rude person who deserves only contempt. You let me believe Solange would return shortly, you left me sitting around for hours–a lack of civility in both cases, and believe me, I’m an expert on this subject. Maybe my way of expressing myself doesn’t reflect the person I am, but that’s because I’m angry. I’m a lawyer, and normally I express myself very clearly ...” Suddenly, he stands in front me and touches my face gently. He speaks in a voice I can barely hear. “Is there a name amongst this stream of words? I would like to know whom I want to kiss.” “Zoe,” I murmur as if hypnotized, and before I finish talking, his lips have already captured mine. In a corner of my head, I feel a protest taking shape, but I hear no sound coming from my mouth. His kiss awakens in me a whirlwind of sensations I haven’t felt since ... That I’ve never felt. I would like to say it’s my initiative that ends our kiss, but what’s the point of lying? He’s the one who moves away first.