Look—see? I told you I'd come back all tanned.
Indeed, I look completely pale next to you. Shall we sit here on the grass?
As you like.
Marc, you know we're going to have to talk.
What if we just started again from now on—would that suit you?
And pretend that everything we've been through before never existed? Do you really think that would help us?
I believed so strongly that those sweet little moments would still exist between us that I don't want to spoil them, that's all. I left two months ago with that wonderful wedding evening in mind and our date today—I was walking on air.
Yes, but precisely, we need to understand what happened between us for those nice moments to suddenly disappear. We blamed everything on the Bertille story, but that's not true—she was just the bomb that made our fragile balance explode.
Okay then, I have a question that's been nagging me for a long time.
Go ahead, I'm listening.
Did you agree to come live with me just because you couldn't have an apartment on your own?
Ouch, you're starting with a missile strike!
Sorry, but you wanted us to talk, so we might as well start at the beginning—where I think everything went off the rails between us.
Do you really think it's because we lived together that our relationship went downhill?
Please answer my question.
Okay, so yes and no.
I'm really not going to like this discussion, I think.
Marc, wait—let me explain, please. Deep down, of course I wanted to live with you, to be a couple like more and more people around us—it was fun to imagine, the two of us in our own place, playing grown-ups.
But we are grown-ups!
Let me finish. Of course I thought about it, just like imagining our wedding, for example, or our children.
Oops, you're going fast there, aren't you?
See that reaction you have when I say "wedding" and "children"? Well, that's the reaction I had to living together. I felt it was too soon. Our relationship was solid—I was convinced of that. We went through difficult times to find our balance, so it was never just a holiday fling; I couldn't imagine myself with anyone else. But in my head, I was still a student. Proof of that: when I had to leave my student housing, I didn't understand why, even though I had just graduated.
So you saw that for later, for us.
I imagined myself living alone for another year, while you finished your training. I thought that after your diploma, we'd move in together—because we'd been apart too long and it would be time to turn a page, to live like adults.
Unluckily, you ended up without a place and everything sped up.
That's exactly it. I'm not a decision-maker—what I had imagined collapsed, and I found myself "forced" to accept your offer, otherwise I risked losing my job or you. So I felt pushed into something I did want, but not at the right time.
I understand better why the choice of the apartment didn't really excite you.
I actually didn't care, because I felt like a spectator in my own life. And it's true that I didn't invest myself in decorating or even in just being there, because I didn't feel at home—neither my home nor our home. I saw it more like a dormitory where we crossed paths, that's all.
Why didn't we talk about this earlier?
Marc—you were never there!
Your turn to launch a missile!
But it's true! Remember, right from the start, you were sent off to training for weeks without being able to come back. So I was alone in that apartment I didn't like. I think unconsciously, I made you pay for the apartment and your absence by being absent myself when you did come back. And on top of that, my harassment issue got added pretty quickly.
Which I learned about through Peter.
Yes, because it crept in little by little. I didn't realize right away what was happening—I thought that because I was new, my boss was testing me or teaching me. And then again, we saw each other very little. So when I was really feeling bad, it was Peter or Melanie who saw me. When you came back, the worst was over—I wasn't going to tell you about it, you had your own problems too.
Looking back, I realize that the distance made me lose touch with everyday reality.
It's over now, we're not going to dwell on it—we can't change anything—but I think that's why I didn't want to live with you yet. Being apart for several months scared me; I didn't really see the point of living as a couple if in the end I was always alone, you know?
Yes, I understand that I missed a lot of things and that I probably didn't want to see your distress. It was easier to tell myself you were tired than to think it was my fault.
No, Marc, it wasn't your fault. We both made choices, the timing wasn't right—that's all. Well, I really do have to go now.
Already?
Yes, already. I'm working tomorrow.
You don't want to spend another night?
No, let's not rush things. I really loved staying in your apartment—thank you again, it helped me with my job and with coping with your absence, being surrounded by your things. But I prefer to take it slow and maybe come back another time, or give it some more time so we can miss each other.
I already miss youuuu! The days are going to feel long…