Perched on the balcony of my new apartment, where I had barely unpacked and signed my lease, I gazed down at the neighborhood. Nothing extraordinary: a mundane but safe area, ideal for a student returning to classes. The rent was reasonable, so I hadn't hesitated long. The noise from the road and the screams of children playing below would surely irritate me—I, who loves silence so much—but no matter. It was the weekend. And besides, I wouldn't be here during the day, and come evening, a little tranquility would surely prevail.
I headed to the kitchen with my girlfriends; tonight, we were celebrating my housewarming. Of course, I hadn't had time to do much shopping yet, and my stomach was already rumbling. Still, I had lunched with my parents this afternoon before taking possession of my new abode. I could still see my mother's face when she asked if I even knew how to make an omelet. I had replied mischievously:
—Of course, what a question!
A lie, obviously.
I had grown up under my parents' roof, suffocated by too much so-called attention.
One day, I blurted out:
—For my second year, I'd like to live alone!
My father, leaning back in his armchair, newspaper in hand, sighed, waving his fingers as if to shoo a fly, and simply said:
—Let her do what she wants.
My mother, on the other hand, went pale. The idea of leaving me alone seemed insurmountable to her. She thought of stories of students crushed by stress, who stay silent until they commit the irreparable, or worse: young people poisoned by their own friends. But after long negotiations, the Dangs—my parents—finally gave in.
And here I was, finally home! It was nothing like the family villa, but the apartment was spacious enough for me: a bed, a desk area for studying and setting up my computer, a simple kitchen with two pots and an enormous refrigerator gifted by my mother—it took up half the room, but I couldn't refuse. Clean toilets that I had scrubbed myself the day before, a small living room furnished with a sofa I got from my brother, who had cleverly moved abroad! Everything was going for the best.
I grabbed my bag and rushed down the stairs, heading for the convenience store across the street. Just as I was about to cross, a little boy suddenly shot out and ran into me. I tried to catch him but lost my balance, and we both fell.
—Ouch! Are you... are you okay? I asked, surprised.
—Yes... I'm sorry... he replied in a trembling voice, tears in his eyes.
I then noticed the red marks on his hands. It looked like he had been hit. I barely had time to open my mouth before he had already gotten up and run away.
I stood frozen, perplexed. What could have possibly happened to that child?
Looking down, I saw the screen of my phone cracked from the fall.
—Damn it! I whispered.
Maybe fate wanted to prevent me from going grocery shopping. Too bad. I'll buy a new phone later... or have it repaired. Fortunately, I still had an old push-button phone at home: enough to call my girlfriends for the evening.
When one cannot cook and is sorely lacking in know-how, humans have had the kindness to create restaurants, fast-food places, that kind of thing, with the aim not only of satisfying our taste buds and earning money (for some), but also of delivering good food.
And the third idea definitely touched upon my situation: I had ordered everything necessary and was setting it out on the small coffee table in my living room. The sofa wasn't big enough for three, so I had laid out a rug so we could sit with the girls.
I managed to call my guests to give them directions. While I hurried to arrange everything properly, I heard the doorbell and rushed to open the door.
—Who is it? I shouted, moving forward.
Mom had told me it was imperative to ask before opening the door, as sometimes I seemed absent-minded.
—Well... it's us, Fabiola and Manue! they answered in unison.
—Oh, it's you, girls! I exclaimed.
I quickly turned the door latch and welcomed them with a big group hug.
—Stop, you're going to crush us, Babe! exclaimed Manue, her head sinking into the softness of my chest.
—Stop acting like a kid, she's all excited about finally being in her own place! said Fabiola in a cheerful tone.
Naturally, the girls always responded well to good humor.
—Welcome to my home! I said, gesturing for them to enter, then closed the door behind me.
—So, do you like it? I asked, pointing to the rug for them to settle down.
—Yes, it's a change from your parents' villa, retorted Manue with a big, mischievous smile.
—But at least you'll feel more comfortable... no more sneaking out through the window or the garage, you're free!
—Yes... ah, you certainly pointed that out, I mused, looking dreamy. I can finally do what I want, at least without having my mother constantly on my back...
—They really let you go that easily? Fabiola chimed in, quietly, looking nonchalant.
—You're telling me... it was hard to convince my mother. Still, she finally accepted.
—They know where the apartment is? cried Manue.
—Yes, certainly. The three of us came for the viewing. Dad didn't look thrilled, but oh well... He was also eager to see me leave that house. Good riddance.
She kept crying today; she wanted to accompany me, which I refused.
—That can't be easy... Manue said softly.
—But she'll get over it, surely, I retorted.
—Indeed, you had to leave the nest someday, Manue chimed in.
—I'm 23 and I'm a woman now. I'm sick of hearing nonsense! I replied quickly.
Fabiola broke our enthusiasm by adopting a serious look. She hesitated for a moment, then continued:
—Despite all that, she was convinced that after the incident, your place was by her side. A strange attempt at protection, I grant you.
I immediately changed the subject. Fabiola had a habit of being the most mature of us all and setting our ideas straight, but tonight, I didn't want to know or hear about that incident that could have defined my entire life.
I clapped my hands as if to chase away the sad atmosphere.
—Come on, girls! I ordered lots of things to eat and snack on.
I pointed to the dishes in front of us and served each of them a glass of champagne.
—Let's toast to our friendship and my new beginning!
I raised my glass for them to follow and made a toast together.
—To our friendship and your new life, Babe!
As it turned out, they couldn't handle alcohol very well: barely had they finished one glass than they were sprawled out, snoring in my living room. Ah... my living room! I repeated it to myself as if I couldn't believe my eyes.
I tidied up the living room, threw the garbage in the bin, then rushed to the balcony. I grabbed a cigarette, placed it between my lips, lit it with a quick gesture, and inhaled deeply the smoke, letting my thoughts drift into the cool air. I gently exhaled the smoke, watching the swirls dissipate in the evening breeze. From now on, I could smoke as much as I wanted, without fear of being caught.
I reflected on how I would start my second year. I would surely make new connections. People in this part of town were quite open and friendly. Last year, I drove two hours every day to get there... It was definitely better to have moved.
Maybe I'll meet the love of my life this time... Or will I get ghosted again? Vexing question. The most important thing would be to forget about boys and focus entirely on my studies.
Of course... a pure lie on my part. I would still feel quite lonely at uni, without my best friends, both enrolled in different universities for engineering and design studies for Manue. I'm the only one studying experimental cinema and digital arts, a field that allows me to explore new forms of narration and visual creation.
I patted the pockets of my sweatpants, as if to find my phone. But of course, I had dropped it during the fall. Huh, quite strange, that child... what did he have in his hand? Is he suffering from abuse or had he committed a theft and been scolded?