12. LORAINE
1269 Words
The Verne Estate team won, and the most annoying thing was that I couldn’t do anything to prevent it. From the sidelines where I was relegated, I couldn’t do much. I didn’t lose consciousness. I just lay there for a few seconds with my eyes closed in pain, on the floor, gasping for air. On the other hand, I ended up with two pieces of cotton in the nostrils, which wasn’t practical to continue playing. Logan, who’s seriously starting to be an expert at caring for this part of my anatomy, told me over and over again that I was going to break my nose sooner rather than later. I joked that anyway, given its natural state, it couldn’t make the situation worse. He muttered something and ordered me to not move for the rest of the game. In my place, he brought Anthony onto the court, so happy to finally have an opportunity to be useful. Besides, I wondered if he hadn’t also been a substitute at the famous university where he had supposedly played, because, given his level, it’s impossible that a team knowingly wanted him as a substitute.
As for Mark, he apologised for it. Because yes, the brick wall that I hit was the torso of the new recruit of the Verne Estate team. That has also become a habit in recent days. I don’t know what he does with his casseroles all day to stay so firm.
To celebrate their victory, he invited us for a drink at the Café de la Place. Suffice to say that no one refused the idea. We are, therefore, at a happy table in the middle of the restaurant which isn’t very busy on this weekday evening, to replay the game. For once, Mark sat with us. I have no recollection of having seen him anywhere other than the kitchen, or behind the bar. I’m at the far right of the table, he’s seated opposite, a little more to the left. He talks with his neighbour, which gives me plenty of time to observe him without him noticing. His face has recovered pretty well from the fight last week. It must be said that it wasn’t too catastrophic, compared to his opponent. His bruises are hardly visible unless you look closely at them. Still, he doesn’t look in good shape. Who could blame him after the events of the last few days? Moreover, even if he’s physically among us, I feel that he’s not completely there either. He doesn’t laugh at Logan’s jokes like the others, his smile never reaches his eyes, it’s as if a sad aura is hovering over him.
I leave for the bathroom for a few minutes, and when I come back to the room and walk past the bar, he calls out to me:
“Loraine, can I talk to you?”
He beckons me to follow him to a quieter corner. I had an idea of what he was going to tell me, so I got ahead of him:
“If you want to apologise once more, you don’t have to. I realise you didn’t do it on purpose. These are the risks when you…”
“Loraine,” he cuts me off.
I’m silent, realising that once again in his presence I’ve been seized with a completely unnecessary bout of logorrhea.
“I don’t want to apologise again. I think you know that I was sorry.”
“Yes.”
“I want to talk to you about something else entirely.”
This time, my curiosity was piqued.
“Earlier, Manon hinted at the fact that you were looking for a housemate.”
“Yeah, well, that’s more or less the case.”
He frowns.
“More or less?”
“Let’s say that I didn’t make up my mind completely. Romy suggested it, Father Boyle thought it was a good idea and wanted to advertise to his parishioners.”
Apparently, he’s already done it, since Manon’s heard the news.
Mark runs a hand through his hair, he looks nervous. He asks me:
“Do you think you could consider my candidacy?”
At the time, the first idea that came to mind was: this is a joke. But Mark’s face had a very serious look.
“You’re fully aware of the state in which my apartment is. And, I need housing while the work is being done. It won’t be for too long, I hope, and I will spend my time working. I just need a place not too far from work, where I can get decent nights and store what little stuff I have left after the fire. My parents are outside the centre, and I sold my car since I used it so little and I had Jenny’s to help me out if needed. It’s not very practical. And then, honestly, I think I’d still rather sleep in my office here than stay with them. You know how parents are?” he said before suddenly recovering, probably realising his blunder.
“Sorry.”
“It’s not serious.”
He continues, embarrassed:
“Well, it would suit me to find something not too expensive, since I have a lot of expenses, especially with the restaurant.”
As he says these words, I blink and stare at him.
When I realise that he’s surely waiting for an answer from me, I ask:
“Do you want to come and live with me?”
“I would like to rent your room if it’s possible?” he said, articulating slowly as if I didn’t speak the same language as him.
I’m not quite sure. Did I understand well?
I can’t say yes to that. Mainly for my mental health. I already have a hard time having the synapses functioning in good order when I see him anywhere. What will I do if he invades my personal space? All right, he would have his room, but we’re going to have to share the living room, the kitchen. What am I going to do if he asks me to pass him the salt? Start babbling like a fool every time he talks to me? As I search the back of my brain for an excuse that might get me out of the situation, Father Boyle’s face outside his church the day after the fire appeared in front of me.
I’m counting on you, Loraine.
These words echo in my head. The priest’s face fades away, and I realise that it’s another handsome guy who’s watching me, with hope deep in his eyes.
“I’m messy, and I don’t intend to change my habits.”
“I don’t care unless you come and mess my things up.”
“I don’t cook.”
He smiles.
“You’ll have a chef at home.”
Oh, damn! I didn’t think about that!
“The house isn’t in great condition. I have a lot of work to do, but I can’t afford it at the moment, so there’s little chance that it’ll change in the next few weeks.
“So you’ll not spit at some additional money?”
And this is where his argument hits the mark. Suddenly, I imagine that I can afford the wallpaper that I dream of for my room. I never thought about having a housemate. In my head, either I lived with Papi Gus or with no one. But then…
So I take a deep breath and ask a question that I never thought I would be able to ask one day:
“When are you moving in?”
- Writer
