You count everything.
— Non.
You’re the one who just turned 30 years of friendship into a bill.
She hung up.
The next morning, Facebook had already done the rest.
Claire had posted a photo of a window in the rain.
Below:
“You discover your true friends when you have nothing left to offer them.”
2 hours later:
“Some people own two houses and refuse to lend a hand to someone who is drowning.”
She didn’t name me.
She didn’t need it.
A former colleague sent me a message.
“What happened between you and Claire?”
I replied:
“She asked me for a large loan.”
I agreed to consider the loan with a written agreement.
She refused.
I prefer not to divulge the rest in public.
Then I put down my phone.
Lucas came by our house at 7 p.m.
He seemed closed off.
“Did she call you?” I asked.
— 4 times.
— What did she want?
He placed his keys on the table.
— That I convince Dad to change your mind.
Marc let out a joyless laugh.
– Of course.
Lucas continued:
— She told me that if she ended up on the street, I should remember that my parents chose a roof over a person.
I felt disgusted.
— I’m sorry.
Lucas frowned.
— Why are you apologizing?
— Because she’s your godmother.
– Exactly.
He looked me straight in the eyes.
— A godmother doesn’t ask me to manipulate my mother.
That sentence freed me from a burden I had been carrying for days.
I realized that I was still trying to protect Claire’s image when she no longer hesitated to use my own son against me.
Two days later, I received another message.
Claire.
“I need to talk to you.”
No money.
Just talking.
I hesitated for a long time.
Then I agreed to meet her in a café in Croix-Rousse.
When I arrived, she no longer resembled the triumphant woman of our first lunch.
No makeup.
No silk shirt.
She was turning an empty cup between her fingers.
— I sold my car.
I sat down.
– All right.
— Is that all?
— What do you want me to say?
— That you are sorry.
— I’m sorry you’ve come to this.
She gave a bitter smile.
— But not enough to help me.
I looked at her for a long time.
— You start again.
– What ?
— Even now, you’re still trying to make me take the blame for your situation.
She lowered her eyes.
— I don’t know how to get out of this anymore.
This time, his voice no longer had any aggression.
I breathed slowly.
— Then go see a specialist association, a budget advisor, your bank, a professional who can help you restructure what can be restructured.
Put everything down on paper.
Your debts, your expenses, your income.
She raised her head.
— You could come with me.
— Non.
She took the word in like a shock.
– For what ?
— Because I spent too many years believing that helping meant taking your problems on my shoulders.
— I’m just asking you to be here.
— And I need to no longer be the one you call when it comes to paying, explaining, reassuring or repairing.
She sat up.
— So 30 years really means nothing to you.
I felt a lump form in my throat.
— They mean a lot.
— It’s not noticeable.
— Yes.
That’s precisely why it hurts so much.
She looked away.
I continued:
— I remember you at the maternity ward when Lucas was born.
I remember the night you came to my house after my father died.
I remember our holidays with the children, and your calls when Marc had his accident.
Her eyes filled with tears.
— So why are you doing this to me?
— I’m not doing anything to you, Claire.
— You’re abandoning me.
I shook my head.
— Non.
I’m done saving you from the consequences of decisions I didn’t make.
She clenched her jaw.
— It’s easy to talk when you have everything.
This time, I smiled sadly.
— Do you know why the roof of my mother’s house still hasn’t been redone?
She did not answer.
— Because we’ve been saving for 4 years.
Because Marc gave up on changing his car.
Because I still take on extra assignments some Saturdays.
Because we spent two summers without going away.
— I didn’t know.
— You never asked me that.
She remains still.
— You only saw the result.
A house.
A husband who is employed.
Money in an account.
And you decided that it cost us less than it cost you.
Claire opened her mouth.
Then he closed it.
