12. ROMY
1211 Words
I find Mum in the kitchen, she’s loading the dishwasher with far too much energy, if I can believe the plaintive cry of cutlery knocking together.
“Mom?”
She ignores me, so I insist:
“Mom, can we talk, please?”
She raises her head, annoyed.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know, you’re the one mad at me, and I’m not even sure I understand why.”
She sighs.
“I…I’m not really mad at you. It’s just that I’m disappointed.”
“Disappointed with what?”
“Of all this business with Simon, I thought…”
“Wait, I don’t understand. Isn’t it for me to be disappointed?”
She stares at me, then shakes her head.
“You’re right, I’m selfish. You must be terribly upset, darling. Me too, I always thought you’d end up together. So inevitably, to learn that he’s going to marry another…”
“You could say he caught us all off guard on that one.”
She nods, then a detail comes to mind:
“You say you always thought we’d end up together, and earlier you suggested I could have gotten pregnant. How did you know that Simon and I were…more than just friends?”
“It wasn’t hard to guess for anyone who was even a bit observant.”
She raises her head proudly and says:
“Don’t forget that I’m your mother. We know these things.”
I believed that my feelings for him were Locron’s best-kept secret. I realised that the list of people who knew about it is endless. Anyway, after yesterday’s scandal, not many people should remain in the dark.
I watch my mother dispose of the leftover lasagna.
“Do you really think I’m a kitchen snob?”
“Sometimes, yes. But it’s not so much the kitchen that’s the problem.”
“So what is it?”
It looks like she’s purposely throwing out unanswered sentences for me to question her. She puts the dish down and stands in front of me, arms crossed over her chest.
“The concern, Romy, is – and I don’t want to say this to one of my children, but – you are rather intimidating.”
“Intimidating?”
She waves her hand in front of her as if to point at something.
“Yes, you see, you don’t do things by halves. When you embark on a project, you go all out, and you succeed.”
“I don’t see how that’s a problem. I like to be successful in what I do.”
“Yes, but you see, for some people, it can be very complex.”
“You mean you have complexes because I cook better than you?”
“Among others, but it’s not just a problem with me. You do that with everyone, show off your superiority, and some men… Let’s just say they don’t like it.”
Jeremy and Ben enter the kitchen at that moment, certainly thinking that in the absence of shouting, the place must be safe. I pay them only distracted attention, trying to figure out what my mother means.
“Could you be clearer?”
“Well, I don’t mean to be pessimistic, but I’m afraid you’re having trouble finding a man who appreciates that trait. Simon was kind of your last chance to start a family, and ours to be grandparents again.”
I remain astonished. Fortunately, Jeremy and Ben are offended for me.
“Martina!”
“Mom!”
“Sorry, boys, but it’s the truth, your sister isn’t very young anymore…”
“Okay! Stop right there! If I have to go through one of your talks about my withering ovaries again, I’d rather eat your lasagna.”
“You see, you always find a way to denigrate my cooking,” she says acerbically.
“Hey! You’re not going to start again!” Guillaume intervenes, arriving with a pile of dirty plates, while Jade and dad are on his heels.
“I think I’ll go,” I said, not really wanting to spend the rest of my Sunday arguing with my mother.
“Wait!” Ben holds me back.
He wraps his arm around me and kisses my hair.
“Don’t pay attention to what mum told you earlier. You’re an extraordinary girl. The guys around you are just too dumb to notice, Simon the first. Besides, if Jeremy hadn’t stopped me last night, I would have seen him leave with a black eye, and one or two missing teeth. He would have been less smart, that asshole.”
“He doesn’t deserve that. It was me who got carried away for nothing.”
“Yeah, I still say one word from you, and I’ll make sure to make him cry like a baby. And I’m sure that Guillaume will support me on this one.”
“That’s adorable,” I said, placing a kiss on his cheek. “But leave him alone. Let’s stop talking about it.”
“I’m serious, Romy. And if you need anything… I know we bicker a lot, but you can always count on me, Jeremy and Guillaume. As far as I know, that’s what family is for.”
“Ah yes? I thought you were just there to monopolise my days off and criticise my love life…”
He smiles.
“For that too. And admit that we do it very well.”
That night, during one of my insomnias, I had an epiphany. I thought back to all the times I imagined myself with a family of my own. I’ve always kind of taken my parents as a model: a marriage, three children they had together… Most of my friends also have families of the same kind. And yet, what if I was looking for happiness in the wrong place? What if I tried at all costs to reproduce a pattern that prevents me from seeing all the other possibilities available to me?
Boosted by this sudden revelation, I get up and begin my investigations on the Internet. After typing my search, I came across the usual sites: those that offer you to meet love with a lot of photos of couples with impeccable teeth and so smiling that they must have cramps in their lips, an expert in romantic relationships who, for the modest sum of 490 euros, explains to you what to change in your life to meet the ideal person, a day cream to make you look less desperate... It might take me a while to find the site I’m looking for.
I had vaguely read an article once about it, but I wasn’t sure if this concept really existed in our country. And when I finally come across the site, I devour every page it contains, and the hours pass without my realising it. I read the testimonials of people who have used the services offered, and admire photos of happy families. When I turn off my computer, my decision is made. It won’t be easy, but since my mother says that when I do something, l give it everything I have, I know I’ll succeed. And this idea makes me smile more than any of my other projects before.
- Writer
