Start of the academic year 1970-71, Faculty of Letters and Human Sciences of Nanterre.
Early afternoon, after lunch. I meet Elisabeth upstairs in the English department. She seems happy but at the same time embarrassed when she sees me. For me it is an immense happiness to see her again after these two months of separation of the summer. It must be on my face. Perhaps that is what bothers her so much. As we do not immediately have classes, we decide to go to the small Arabic café located behind the faculty, on the edge of the slum. A secret meeting place that belongs to us. She is the one who takes the initiative to direct us to this café. The décor is simple, a few tables are visible behind the storefront, at this quiet hour none are occupied. We enter, the atmosphere is warm and welcoming: a radio plays muted music partly covered by the chatter of a few workers gathered in front of the counter facing the boss.
We order coffees and sit at a table a little secluded, across from each other, for privacy. The waitress comes to serve us. We put the sugar cubes in our cups. I stir my spoon in my cup. Elisabeth takes out her pack of cigarettes and hands me one. She lights our cigarettes.
- I have to tell you something!
I feel Elisabeth hesitant about how to approach the subject. It must be an important topic for both of us and I look forward to what comes next. I fidget in my chair, trying to adopt a capacity. I have the feeling of impending misfortune. I am subject to this kind of premonition: it is now! Ina few moments my life will no longer have the same meaning. I may even have no reason to continue living. After a final hesitation Elisabeth launches and begins to speak:
- First of all, I have something important to tell you. I met someone during my summer classes at the British Institute and he asked me to marry him.
- And you're going to...
- He's someone more mature and older than you or me. I decided to marry her.
I try to keep the air as neutral as possible, but deep inside me my heart is heavy, I have the feeling of an irretrievable loss, I feel sad, dejected, and incapable of reaction. I hold back tears.
- What do you mean?
- His name is Lucien. He works. He is older than me. He is intelligent, funny and we immediately felt a complicity between us. I really think he's the one I need, the one I have to make my life with.
I try to hide my feelings, to control the fear, grief and confusion that rises in me. I still can't tell her the agreed sentence in this kind of situation, that I'm happy for her.
- I know this can be hard for you to hear, but I want you to know that I still appreciate our friendship and I hope it doesn't change anything between us, that we can continue to be friends.
- Yes, I will always remain your friend. It's your happiness that counts.
- Thank you, that means a lot to me.
She then gives me more details about this meeting and this new relationship with Lucien. I pretend to listen to her but my mind is empty, I can't find anything to replicate. My fate and hers are sealed. From that moment all my illusions and dreams were gone. I was just a kid, I was new to love and I didn't know how to captivate her. She was more mature than me. She will remain my friend but will never be my girlfriend. She will not become my fiancée. I will not marry her. And she will never one day be my wife!
I lost everything!
But I already knew that. Deep down I already knew that and it's no surprise. She had the honesty to set the record straight between us. I should blame her for the harm she does to me, but despite everything, deep down I still love her. It is as if an unformulated pact had been established between us: failing everything else we will remain bosom friends!
