THE JULIEN PROJECT

3

Ding dong!

I wake up with a jolt. Where am I? I open my eyes and find myself still in this brand-new apartment which in no way resembles my usual home. Okay! False alert! My dream continues, I’m going to go back to sleep and everything will be fine. I close my eyes when the ding dong sounds again. I’m amazed to see that at least my thing has softened.

“I’m coming! One moment, please!” I say, pulling on very slim jeans and a T-shirt that smells of men’s cologne. Mm ... It’s a little heavy, but I love the smell. Fresh and lemony, this is exactly the kind of scent I would give the man in my life.

I look through the spyhole and note the presence of an old lady. She wears a red woollen hat and a big scarf. Who is it? What does she want from me?

“Hello,” I said, opening the door.

“Hello, my little Julien. I’m sorry to bother you but I didn’t see your car in the parking lot so I got worried. Is everything fine?”

“Uh, yes, couldn’t get any better...” I say a little dryly, remembering my improbable situation since the morning. “Uh ... Are you okay? You did a little shopping, it seems!” I say more gently, observing her cart with wheels from which leeks protrude.

“That’s right,” she said without moving. “And usually, you immediately offer me your help to carry it!”

Carry it? What does she mean by that? She stares at me then looks at her cart. In her other hand, I discover a leash and at the end, a small dog all out of breath. It takes a while for the message to reach my new brain. Is the male brain slower?

“Oh, sorry! You want a helping hand with your shopping, right?! To be completely honest with you, I’m not in great shape today. I’ve had some slumps since this morning so I apologize if I sound different. Besides, you could perhaps enlighten me. That would be nice of you, ma’am.”

Even though the situation is far from hilarious, the old lady laughs uncontrollably and her dog starts barking and hopping behind her.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! It’s always a pleasure to see you, Julien. Stop calling me ma’am! When will you decide to call me Odette? Ah! If Louise was here, she would have died laughing hearing that! Rest in peace! Come on, come on, I’ll get you a coffee. Take this, please!” she said, handing me the leash and the cart.

“Uh… Okay, Odette. Wait, let me lock up anyway...”

“Well, I’m at the end of the hall, it’s not necessary...”

I didn’t hear what she said because I’m confused. Grabbing my keychain, I realize that it’s super heavy, much heavier than my usual keychain which only has the door key and two small keys, one opening the letterbox and the other the lock of my bike. Are all of these keys really useful to me? I discovered a leather Audi key ring. What? Would I have an Audi? It’s not possible. I don’t have a car. I’m green, adept at bicycles and public transport. I never go out, I have no social life and, above all, my salary doesn’t allow me to buy or maintain an Audi. Besides, where is my Audi, if it’s not in the parking lot?

Now I start to think like a man again, but no time to feel sorry for myself, Odette grabs my arm and drags me to her apartment. When I walk into the hallway, the smell instantly reminds me of Grandma Louise. The emotion overwhelms me and Odette realizes it.

“But what’s happening to you, my boy? You’re usually in a much better mood.”

“If I told you what happened to me, you wouldn’t believe me!”

“Come on, my little boy, an old lady like me… I’ve seen it all, so nothing you can tell me will shock me. Tell me... I’m listening.”

I fear that she’ll die of a stroke if I tell her that just yesterday, I was a girl and that I woke up with an unprecedented pole causing a girl to flee, of whom I know nothing, with whom I must have spent the night without remembering how I was able to go from one world to another. Even to myself, it scares me!

“It’s just… It’s my birthday,” I finally stammer after a long silence.

“But that’s great! And is that what puts you in this state? How old are you?”

“Thirty…”

“Marvellous! Thirty years! The age of Reason! Ah… I remember it like it was yesterday when I was thirty…”

“It’s been a while anyway...” I say without thinking.

“Well, Julien! Looks like you got your sense of humour back,” she said with a smile.

“Uh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“You’re right! I stopped counting at eighty so frankly my thirty years are far away, but in my head, it was still a fabulous time. What are your plans for your 30th birthday, my little boy?”

“At thirty, I hoped to be married, to have children, two or even three, a nice job, a house on one level, but life seems to have decided otherwise. I’m afraid of becoming an old maid… uh… I mean an old boy!”

“Why do you say that in the tone of someone who’s going to die tomorrow? It’s not too late. You should stop accumulating conquests and finally decide to settle down!”

“What? Accumulate the… what?”

“Well yes, every weekend, it’s a different girl that I see leaving your apartment. Without wanting to get involved in things that don’t concern me, don’t you think you had enough fun, Julien?”

“Oh, good… I’m that type of man?”

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” she bursts out laughing. “So, my little boy, if you want some advice from an old lady like me, open your ears and listen! Because you boys only hear what you want to hear. Whether you like it or not, you have selective hearing and a sparrow memory. Are you listening to me?”

“Uh, yes... I think so...” I said, concentrating as much as possible to listen to what she’s about to tell me.

“The woman of your life, she’s surely much closer than you think, you surely have even met her. But you’re scared! Yes, you’re scared of commitment, you are afraid of loving, and therefore you don’t let yourself be loved in return. Accept yourself as you are! Take a look at who you are! You’re a handsome boy, you have a good position, you have character and you even know how to be funny… at times. You have it all! So, stop behaving like a little jerk and open your heart!”

“Ah… are you sure, Odette?”

“Would you doubt my clairvoyance?”

“No, of course not, but...”

“So, there’s no but… Here, have your coffee!” she says in an authoritative tone.

The truth is, I never drink coffee. As Julie, I prefer infusions or teas. But now, I wouldn’t want to offend Odette, who made her coffee the old-fashioned way, with an Italian coffee maker. The whole apartment smells of coffee.

“Mm… This is good,” I say sincerely.

“It’s the same as usual, Julien, I haven’t changed brands.”

“Do I often come to have coffee with you?”

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” she laughs heartily. “Every Saturday afternoon when I go shopping and since Louise left,” she said, looking up at the sky.

It’s time to ask a few questions, but too many questions are jostling at the gate and my new brain cannot process all the information at the same time. I would like to speak but no sound comes out of my mouth. She breaks the silence.

“So where is your Audi?”

“Well, in fact, I don’t know!”

“You should ask Paul.”

I have a blow to the heart when I hear this name. I dare:

“And Paul, who would that be?”

“Oh, Julien! You’re unwell,” she said, resting her wrinkled hand on my forehead. “Well yes, you’re hot, my little one! Paul and you work together. You don’t just work by the way,” she said in an almost naughty tone.

A second blow to the heart. I’m gay! The girl who slammed the door this morning was a guy!

“Julien, are you okay? You’re all pale!”

“Yes… But are Paul and I… you know… two guys who…?”

I join the two index fingers to mimic two people kissing, like in elementary school. Odette looks at me strangely before understanding.

“Queers? You’re asking if you’re queers?” she repeats before exploding with laughter so sincere that it pierces both eardrums.

Well, what language for a person of a certain age!

It lasts a little while before she becomes serious again, drying her tears.

“So, that’s what I told you earlier. You didn’t listen well to my speech when we were talking about the woman of your life and your different conquests every week! Julien, you’re a hopeless case!”

“Oh, phew... No, seriously, Odette, I almost had a heart attack. I believed for a moment that maybe this Paul and I...”

“No! Paul and you are friends. Very good friends even. Come on, finish your coffee and go home. You made me tired today.”

I would like to apologize for having tired her, but in this man’s body, the apology isn’t easy to say. Undoubtedly a purely male symptom…

“I, I ...”

“Come on, stop stammering! You’re not fifteen anymore. Have a good evening! Have fun on your birthday and think about what I told you about women…” she said softly, giving me a wrinkled wink.

I don’t have time to thank her, she has already kicked me out and slammed the door in my face. I return to my apartment, sheepish and slightly hunched over. I was hoping she would tell me more.

When I get home, so to speak, my phone, left on the chest of drawers in the hall, rings. Another blow to the heart! Paul’s photo appears on the screen. Superb photo, moreover, on which Paul, all smiles, makes a magnificent middle finger! There’s no doubt he’s my boss, sexy on the outside but ugly on the inside. I pick up feverishly, not knowing what to expect.

“Hi?” I say in a thin voice.

“What’s uuuuuuuuupp?! Happy birthday my friend! So, did you enjoy yourself? What a firecracker you had, my word!”

His language is unbearable to me. Seized with violent nausea, I throw the phone on the sofa and put my two hands over my mouth so as not to vomit. I hear in the distance:

“Ju? Ju? Are you there, buddy? Julien, damn it! Are you there, yes or s**t?!”

“Hello…” I said, picking up the phone again. “Don’t scream like that, please! I have a headache!”

“Ah, bah that, my coconut, it’s called a hangover!”

“Paul, please. Stop bellowing in my ears!”

“Bellowing? Do you mean screaming? What exactly is wrong with you? Didn’t go well with the girl? What was her name? Ah, yes… Samantha! That sounds like a girl who could…”

“Stop. Shut up! Say no more!” I shout so as not to hear the rest.

How could I be friends with this crazy who howls like a skunk, who assaults me on this Saturday afternoon when I’m supposed to rest? How is it possible? We aren’t friends! It’s unthinkable! I’ll get rid of him and I’ll feel better. Despite my good intentions, I say:

“The girl left. I don’t remember anything.”

“Well, you don’t surprise me, seeing what you drank!” he said without being in the least offended. “However, I tried to reason with you but hey, it’s your birthday! You’re a big boy, and then she looked pretty sweet, Samantha. Yeah, physically intelligent, as you put it so well!” he said to lighten the mood.

“Listen, Paul. I promise I don’t remember anything. I never want to drink again in my life!”

“Hey, you’re thirty years old, man, not fifty! We have time in front of us!”

I’m not at all in the mood to philosophize with Paul. The Paul who was my boss yesterday… that Paul isn’t a philosopher. Never! So, I’m going to hang up... now!

“Paul, do you know where my car is?” I say as if suddenly my car was my only reason for living.

“Of course! You left her at work. Don’t you remember that either? It was before drinking, though.”

“Nah, I don’t remember anything at all! It’s as if I was born this morning...”

“Okay! And how do you plan to go to your parents’ house tonight?”

He knows that I have to go to my parents. He knows my schedule! We may really be friends.

“Well, by public transport,” I say spontaneously since that’s how I usually go.

My parents live in the suburbs with twenty-nine metro stations, three changes, a bus, in short, it’s three times nothing for Julie. In summer, I even go there by bike. It’s fifteen kilometres away...

“By what? Did you c***k your head or what?”

“Uh… well…”

“Yes, I can confirm! You went crazy! You, on public transport? Julien on the metro! Ha! Ha! Ha! And I’m John Paul II and I live in the Vatican! Come on, take a rest, take an aspirin, a good shower, try to come back to earth! I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock. I’m sure your mom will be happy to see me.”

“Okay, if you want. Thank you, Paul.”

He seems unsettled. We don’t say thank you between males? After a short silence, he ends up muttering:

“Your welcome bro! See you soon!”

 Hanging up, I feel drained. I won’t be able to live in this guy’s body and with Paul as my best friend too! I especially wonder how long this bad joke will last. Is this punishment? I never wanted to be a guy!

I take a deep breath and inhale my scent which soothes me a little. At least I smell good! Paul’s right, I’m going to take a good shower but before that, let’s check my phone! The phone is our whole life! It’s worse than a diary this thing, I’m sure to find some clues about me, actually Julien.

Indeed, I’m not disappointed. I have one hundred and thirty-five notifications on my f*******: page. Well, I’m stupid, it’s my birthday! There are a bunch of people who have posted on my profile:

Lydie: Happy birthday Julien darling

My imagination is making efforts. What gift could she give me in an office?

Celine: Happy birthday! For your gift, it’s where you want, when you want ... lol

But she’s completely out of it to write that kind of thing on f*******:! I’m going to have problems.

Margot: Happy birthday my friend!

Sylvia: Happy birthday, my adored big brother. See you tonight.

Lucia: Hola, amor! - Feliz cumpleaños

Cecilia: Hi, brother! Happy birthday, your little sister who loves you. Bryan says hi!

And it continues on pages and pages… Patrick, Jack, Alan, Matthew, Charlie, Chris, Bruno… and above all a lot of girls: Solene, Laura, Alice, Anne-Lise, Angela, Amelie, it’s endless… Most of them strangers! What popularity, this Julien! As Julie, I don’t come close to his ankles. On my f*******: page, which I never look at, by the way, I have about thirty friends, a few colleagues and especially members of my family. Hey, I’m not at the end of my troubles. What do I see? I’m tagged in several photos taken last night! Oh! my God, I’m pitiful, a bottle of champagne in my hand, dishevelled, my shirt open up to the navel, revealing my abs.

“Hey, I have abs, that’s not nothing!” I said, stroking my belly. And who owns all these hands that take advantage of my condition to fiddle with me? How awful! I’m obviously very drunk! It annoys me to see these photos on my profile. Anyone can see them. What will colleagues say if they see this? s**t! What am I going to look like?

Alright, Okay, let’s take a look at the pictures. Well, there, I’m not disappointed either: I see girls, we’re in a club, there are dozens of selfies, with lots of different girls. Paul is also there. And that girl who appears often must be Samantha, I guess. She’s physically intelligent. The pouting mouth, the index finger on a suggestive tongue, the gaze that sweats desire, um... Here I am starting to think like a guy. Strangely, my thing reacts. I’m a male. As soon as I see a girl…

Okay, a shower is necessary to calm my enthusiasm. Anyway, I haven’t mastered anything since waking up, let alone my male body.

I look at myself in the mirror. I almost admire myself. I don’t know if what I see reflects reality.

As a woman, I saw myself as slim; as a man, I find myself muscular. Spot the difference! Wow, I hadn’t paid attention to it before, but there are loads of beauty products on the bathroom shelf! I’m surprised: day cream, night cream, anti-wrinkle cream, concealer stick, hypoallergenic shaving foam for sensitive skin, mild shampoo with aloe vera extracts anti-hair loss, and all these perfume bottles, I have at least six! And I who thought that men didn’t take care of themselves! Well… What a slap in the face!

I put on some music and go to the sparkling clean shower. No long hair is about to block the plughole. There’s no hair at all. The shower screen shines and the water droplets glide over it like in hotels. Not a single trace of limescale! I can’t wait to meet my cleaning person. She’s a real fairy. My apartment is perfect. Even dirty socks are where they belong—in the dirty laundry bin. It’s almost suspicious!

The usual male tropes like not spontaneously putting dirty laundry in the bin, not necessarily closing the cap of the toothpaste tube after using it, not cleaning the sink after shaving, or flushing the toilet don’t apply here. Julien seems to be an ideal boy! I’m a perfect man. Come on, stop! This p***s doesn’t make me a superman! All this comforts me in the idea that this experience is a pure invention of my subconscious and that when I wake up tomorrow, it’ll only be a distant memory.