Leaving
Hi there! First the usual warning, this is a slow burn. You will meet, along the way, some familiar faces if you read Healing and Say what now? beforehand. It seems every character of mine wants to extend the Rainbow world they're building. If you wish to understand what this is all about, you can start with the Unconventional series : Broken, Make it a double and Unconventional Men. Thank you for being here :)F.
Sophie
“I'm sorry”.
She’s lying, I know she is. She looks uncomfortable, for sure, but despite her apologies, I know she doesn't have a single ounce of remorse.
Regardless of my reaction, she will be leaving, but apparently, my blessing for abandoning me is needed, as she keeps on staring at me until I answer “I understand”.
Françoise pats my hand as an apparent reward for my understanding, short and dry. The woman was never one for display of emotions, and hides her bad conscience now by fussing with her coat “You'll be all right being alone for an hour, right? I'll be back”.
“Sure, take your time, I'll wait right here”.
Not even a smile to acknowledge the joke. Ok, it was a bad one, but still. Not smiling, not even looking at me, she grabs her keys and walks out of the door, leaving me, and my terror, all alone in the kitchen.
Trying to quench the panic currently attempting to make me claw at my throat and scream at the sky, I look at the time, wheel back to my room and grab my phone.
Easy to do, there's only one number I ever call, and I can't help but grin when a nonchalant voice answers me “Heeeeeey, bitch”.
My traditional answer to that particular greeting used to earn her a slap behind her head, or grief from my mother. Blessing in disguise, the woman isn't here anymore, and I'm free to utter my own “Yo, bitch yourself, tsup?”
“Oh, you know, same old, same old”.
“Ready for the competition?”
“Yeaaaaah, kinda nervous though”.
“Stef, you're always nervous, But you always win”.
A laugh, and a smile in the voice of my friend “True… You know me too well”.
Can't deny it. We grew up together. Met each other when we were seven, the two smallest girls in the class. At recess, I walked out to find this girl crying: a bigger kid had pushed her from the swings to take her place, she fell on the ground and her knee was bleeding.
I was about the size of a pixie, not that it changed much, and the temper of a drunk Irish pirate in need of another whisky, berated the boy so loudly, that it stopped him from climbing on the swings. I was mad, ignored the fact that he was at least a head and half taller than I was, kicked him in the shins, and again, until he apologized and walked away, biting his tears.
From that moment on, Stephanie was my instant friend, like only kids can do.
The very best of friends. Stephanie and her household were always a welcome break from my helicopter mother, who could have breathed for me, had she been given the possibility to. As it was, breathing was the only thing I could do on my own.
Stephanie's parents were loud, loving, and always busy. Her life couldn't have been more opposite than mine. She was never left to her own devices completely, but they were always on the move. Stef's father was a soccer coach, a good one at that. So good he went from teaching soccer to toddlers to the town's junior team, before the town, then the region required his coaching talent. He's now coaching one of the biggest and most famous teams in France.
As for Stef's mom, Beatrice, she was as loud, and slightly less busy than her husband: ex-professional skier, with a few olympic medals to show for it, she started to teach skiing after an injury, before starting to teach it to schools and as an independent teacher.
When school asked her to give kids lessons once a week, she was more than happy to accept, and for me, the first time I stepped on skis was the first time I was free.
The snow, the woods, the country skis on my boots, the brisk air biting at my cheeks… Only Beatrice and our teacher around, no one to breathe at my neck.
And the wondrous thing was, I had the knack for it too. That very first day, when the rest of our class was still diving nose first in the snow, screaming for instructions how to brake, and landing on their bums with loud “hoomph”, I was the only one next to Stephanie to move with ease, turn my skis just right when the grounds went steep, and the sole one able not only to brake before the line, but to brake at all.
Beatrice was still kind of famous, and well liked in town, and that's the only reason why my mother never tried to use her shrill objections and pity parties with her. I think she was afraid of Beatrice, not aware that the booming voice was hiding a heart of gold. And keen eyes for misery.
That fear became my ticket for a better life: the weekly school skiing lessons became a bi, or tri-weekly lessons to the ski club together with Stephanie. From country skiing to downhill skiing to mogul skiing, and finally, snowboarding.
I was free, on the snow. Free to breathe, free to speed, free to enjoy the silence except for the rushing sound of the snow under my board, I lived for this shit. As did Stephanie.
Beatrice never forced us, but recognised the talent that was staring right at her, and encouraged us to train as much as we wanted, and to participate in competitions if we wished to. And man, did we wish.
When we got noticed by a sponsor, Beatrice quit her daily job and concentrated her efforts uniquely on us two. She brought us to the regional, national, and finally, olympic level. As our coach first, before she got hired to assist the national olympic coach, and it's still her job today.
For a few years, Stef and I were sisters, I could escape my mother more often, and life was good.
Now, the only pleasure left is to encourage my friend from the prison of my room. Still without a hint of jealousy, and only joy. I love her too much, and at least, one of us is still living the dream.
Stephanie breaks my train of thoughts to ask “Met any Daddy online since last time?”
That kills the joy I was feeling. “No… After last one, I kept it at chatting. And it's not like I'm going to get out on a date now, is it?”
A sigh “I’m sorry… I didn't mean to…”
“I know, sweetpea, I know. I didn't want to bring you down. It's just…”
This girl knows me too well. She knows my down, has seen me at my lowest, and still hears at a single sigh that I'm feeling worse now, and snaps “What is it, Soof? You're worrying me now”.
I rub my forehead, vaguely thankful for the fact that today, I can use my phone and rub my forehead. “It's Françoise. She quit. She gave me two weeks to replace her”.
Another snap “Tell me you're kidding”
“I wish I was, sweetpea, believe me”.
“Fuck, M, what are you going to do?”
The panic is back, and I can't do anything else than answer her truthfully “No clue, to be honest, and I don’t have a lot of other options…”
A yell on the phone makes me wince “Yeah, yeah, coming!”, before Stephanie comes back to me “I'm sorry Soph’, they're waiting for me. Listen, don't despair, all right? I'll ask Mum, she knows so many people, I'm sure she'll be able to help. Promise me you won’t sink”
“I promise”.
And I meant it. Last time I really despaired, my will to end it almost destroyed my best friend's joy in life, there is no way I will do this to her again.
But fuck, do I wish I never made this promise now…
And just like that, the panic is back(
