16. MARK
2638 Words
I watch Loraine. Leaning against the kitchen sink, she has her arms crossed under her chest, and her gaze is somewhere in the direction of the window.
“You deserve more than that,“ I said.
She turns her head in my direction.
“What does that mean?”
“Believe me, you don’t want a man who can ignore your face, you want someone who loves you for who you are, including your nose.”
“Yes, well, in my opinion, I’ll not meet this rare pearl tomorrow,” she answers sarcastically.
“Beauty is subjective.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Oh, please. Don’t get into that, especially you.”
I’m not an i***t. I’m aware that I tend to appeal to women. Maybe not all of them, but if I take into account the number of times some have left their phone numbers at the bar for me, that’s a few anyway. Besides, having watched her when she has a date at the Café de la Place, I know that’s something Loraine would never do. She would never approach a guy she liked. I don’t know her well enough to be 100% sure, but I have a feeling she isn’t the type of girl who’s going to try to get what she wants. She’ll quietly wait for someone to give it to her.
“You know, I think we’re taking the problem backwards. You asked me to list your qualities that might appeal to a man.”
“Yes, and we concluded that I have the ideal profile to become a good friend, but certainly not the girl that we would fall head over heels in love with.”
It annoys me that she devalues herself once again, but I’m going to leave this point aside to state my theory.
“Me, what I like about a woman is that she’s enterprising.”
She mumbles:
“I don’t want to know what you mean by that; actually, I’m even ready to pay for you to stop now.”
I pretend I didn’t hear anything.
“We’re no longer in the 18th century, you’re not a fragile thing that waits sighing, in a ballroom, for a young gentleman to ask her to dance.”
“The very idea that you can imagine me in a ballroom is ridiculous,” she admits.
“Well, what I think is that we’re in the 20th century, a man won’t be indignant if you dare to take the first step. He’ll certainly be flattered.”
Well, apart from a few who have a misplaced ego problem, but that, I’m careful not to talk about.
“So basically, your idea is that I go to a bar, that I spot a guy that I like and that I say to him: “Hi you, why don’t we both go and test the springs of my mattress?”
“Uh... maybe not that way.”
“I’m exaggerating the script, but it’s to show you how ridiculous it is.”
“It’s not ridiculous, it works for a lot of people. A girl with confidence is sexy. Attitude matters a lot.”
“And how do you know that? You’ve been with the same girl for…”
Embarrassed, she pauses and avoids my eyes.
“Sorry, that’s not what I meant.”
“That’s exactly what you meant, and you’re not wrong. I stayed with Jenny for over six years. But just because I haven’t had the opportunity to practice myself doesn’t mean I’m ignorant about it. Remember, I run a bar-restaurant, and it’s still one of the best places to meet people. Every day I see couples forming before my eyes.”
I admit it, I’m exaggerating a bit. Besides, Loraine looks at me sceptically.
“Every day? In Locron?”
“Almost every day,” I concede. ”I don’t keep a register. But okay, do you remember the singles party a fortnight ago? There was a new one, a blond…”
“Sophie, the busty blond?”
From her tone, I understand that they haven’t traded their numbers to spend days together braiding their hair.
“Yeah, well, there was a guy at the bar. A dark-haired, rather handsome man, in his early thirties, who was there with some friends drinking shots for a bachelor party. He wasn’t going to offer her a drink. She started the conversation, she bought him a drink and half an hour later, they left arm in arm.”
“She’s blond with big breasts, and she was looking for a one-night stand, of course, he didn’t say no,” she sneers.
This may not be the best example I could have found.
“Do you know what we should do?”
“End this conversation?”
I do feel that she’s reaching her limits. I’m going to have to be a little more convincing.
“We should list what you look for in a man.”
“For him to appear as if by magic?”
“No, for two reasons. First, so that you stop accepting dates with men who don’t suit you. The second, so that I can help you find one that meets your criteria.”
She widens her eyes and bursts out laughing:
“You… you’re not serious.”
“As serious as a heart attack.”
“Would you like to help me meet someone?”
“Yes, why not?”
“And why would you do that?”
“To help you.”
She frowns.
“Um, I see.”
I don’t understand why she seems so reluctant to accept the idea.
“What have you got to lose?”
“My time?” she tries.
“Are you that busy?”
“I guess not,” she sighs.
“So you have everything to gain. Do you have paper and a pen?”
She opens a drawer and takes out a pad of post-it notes. She hands it to me, not without giving me a disapproving look. I sit down to write.
“I would like to go running later, it would suit me that this thing doesn’t last for hours,” she grumbles.
“It’ll only take ten minutes, and I’ll come run with you if I have to.”
If it takes that to convince her, I’m ready to jog a mile or two. After the pancake orgy, that would even be a good idea.”
“Really?”
“Yes, it can’t hurt me. Okay, let’s get started. What qualities are you looking for in a man?”
I look up from my pad and see her watching me, but she doesn’t say anything. It’s true that in my mind it seemed a lot simpler. She listed a few qualities, I took notes, I thought of someone around me who might be suitable and voila. In reality, my career as a marriage agent started rather badly.
“You don’t know what you’re looking for in a man?”
“It seems ridiculous to me to tell you that I want someone intelligent, funny, pragmatic or tender. It seems so mundane.”
She’s not entirely wrong. She pretends to think, shrugs her shoulders and says in a blase tone:
“I want a man who instantly falls in love with me when I kiss him. Like that, pouf! In love with each other until the end of our lives! No complications, no unnecessary dates. Do you have this in stock?”
“Are you crazy? Imagine that you kiss him and then you realise that the person isn’t that good? You’ve got him for life! What if he has bad breath?”
“But I wouldn’t notice it, since I’d be in love too.”
She pretends to think and adds:
“Yes, I think I’d like that as a superpower.”
“I’m not convinced. Anything else?” I ask although I haven’t written these outlandish points on my pad.
In front of her silence, I propose:
“Maybe we should keep this list, but only fill it in as we go, when you have a particular idea.”
“Which means?”
“Well, if you do something and you say to yourself: hey, this is something that I’d like my boyfriend to do with me, you put it on the list.”
“Okay, I got the idea. If, for example, while doing my jogging, I think that I’d appreciate that my boyfriend shares this activity with me, I would add it to the list.”
“Exactly like that.”
“Well, you can already write this: I want a man who likes to run with me.”
I write this first line and then pick up the note. I get up, Loraine follows me with her eyes, certainly wondering what I’m going to do. I put this first wish on the fridge.
“That way, you’ll have it in front of you all the time.”
Instead of protesting as I thought, she ordered me:
“Go put on your sneakers, let’s go for a run.”
“Come on, hurry, you’re dragging your feet!” cried the tyrant before me.
She’s funny! When she mentioned going for a jog, I imagined going around the block. Not a workout worthy of a marathon runner. In addition, given the number of pancakes I ate, and the little sleep I got, we can’t say that I’m in optimal condition. The worst part is that we’re still far from home. I just have to pray that there’s a shortcut that I would never have known to escape this t*****e session as quickly as possible. But since I’ve lived in the area since birth, I know my hopes are low. And it even seems to me that after this turn...
There it is, this hill that seems insurmountable to me, and yet I’m going to have to climb if I don’t want to wait on the side of the road for a charitable soul to take me back by car. If there’s one that passes in the next 24 hours. We can’t say that the place is very busy.
I take my courage in both hands. My legs are heavy, my lungs are burning. Loraine mentioned a little jog. I’d rather call it the safest way to have a heart attack. I climb with difficulty the few metres that separate me from the summit, avoiding looking in Loraine’s direction. This woman isn’t human, it’s been I don’t know how many kilometres, and she barely sweats!
Okay, she certainly has more training than me. To be honest, I don’t know when my last run was. In the two years since I took over my parents’ restaurant, I have had to work harder, so sport has become secondary. I felt the other day, at the basketball game, that I was lacking in stamina, and I suspected that today I was going to suffer, but I had imagined that Loraine would choose something a little more manageable for us...
The last few metres of the slope are gone. You can’t imagine the relief that represents. Unless she’s planning another surprise for me, it should be the last. Loraine slows down to wait for me.
“Courage, less than three kilometres and we are back.”
I refrain from answering because I may not be very pleasant.
When the green door of Loraine’s house finally appeared, I understand how thirsty travellers in the desert feel at the sight of an oasis. The end of my suffering is only a few strides away. Strangely, I find a strength in me that I never suspected. I accelerate and I even pass Loraine. I then collapse on the front steps, completely out of breath, and certainly red as a tomato.
“Well, you see, you did it!”
At what price?
I’m completely done, so I just look at her. My attitude makes her laugh. She takes out her keys, unlocks the door and walks into the house.
“Are you going to stay on the doorstep all morning?” she asks from inside.
“I think my legs are unable to take one more step.”
“What a big baby you are!”
I stand up painfully to follow her. Once in the living room, I collapsed on the sofa.
“Are you aware that what you have just inflicted on me isn’t human?”
She smiles and hands me a bottle of cold water.
“I wanted to see what was in your guts.”
“Next time, please find yourself another guinea pig.”
I take a sip of water, then press the ice-cold bottle to my forehead. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to catch a normal breath. When I open them again, my eyes fall on the list on the fridge.
“In the sentence, I want a man who likes to run with me, you could add a prefix in front of “man”. You need a superman,” I point out.
The smile fades from her face, replaced by a worried glint in her eyes.
“Was it that horrible?”
I sigh.
“For an occasional athlete like me, yes. Although, I guess not for someone with a little more practice…”
“I didn’t find you that bad. You certainly lack practice, but if you jog more, this little bit of exercise shouldn’t be a problem for you in a few weeks.”
“I wouldn’t call it little. But you’re right on one point: I lack practice. With the job that the restaurant gives me, I don’t often have the opportunity to go for a run.”
Or even never. And it’s true that Jenny, having never been a fan of outdoor activities, or sports in general, I preferred to occupy my free time with things that we both could enjoy.
“Even if you work a lot, you should devote some time to physical activities. I’m sure it would do you good. Me, it clears my head.”
“You’re not wrong there either. Even if I admit that right now, the last thing I want is to repeat this experience.”
She seems hesitant to say something.
“I… I run several times a week, so if you ever want to join me...”
“So that you can humiliate me a second time?” I joked. “No thanks.”
However, she looks more embarrassed than amused by my remark.
“Forget it, I understand that you prefer to go alone,” she answers, avoiding my gaze.
She begins to busy herself unnecessarily in the kitchen. I understand that she took my words literally.
“Hey! I was joking. I would be happy to go for a run with you. Alone, I’ll never find the motivation. If we could just do a slightly easier program next time, that would be cool.”
A small smile stretches her lips.
“I think that’s doable.”
“Great. Now, I’m going to drag my sore hulk to the shower, because I have a shift to do at lunchtime, and my employees will think I deserted the ship.”
I take a few steps in the direction of my room which, unlike Loraine’s, is on the ground floor, then I have an idea.
“Don’t hesitate to come and eat at the Café de la Place at noon. I would be happy to invite you.”
She’s about to protest, but I don’t give her time.
“And take your grandfather, if he’s available. I know he loves Provençal stew, and that’s the special of the day.”
- Writer
