22 juin 2006

From Monday to Friday

So...
Sarah was a student. She and Peter lived as a couple, though he worked in a quite distant town. So they couldn't see each other except on weekends, and she used to get bored a lot during the week while her lover was far away. One day, she met the couple that lived on the same floor, David and Kathleen. She started the conversation, and, with a most pleasing surprise, they realized they were all three of them students in the same school. They promised to each other to have a dinner together as soon as possible. It was actually done on the next Saturday: the two couples got together at Peter and Sarah's, and they all spent a good evening.
On the following Monday, Sarah tried to meet Kathleen at school. By a stroke of luck, she found her very quickly, moved towards her, and the girls began to talk. Kathleen liked Sarah very much: she looked quite shy at first sight, almost ordinary, but she became beautiful as soon as she would speak. If Sarah felt at ease with somebody, she just dropped her shyness. And she did feel well with Kathleen. Besides, she confessed to her that she had already made her out and been wanting to get to know her for awhile. Kathleen felt a little embarrassed about that, for she had never noticed Sarah before, and she wished she had. She was delighted with knowing this young lady all in all peculiar and somehow multifaceted.
The new friends spent more and more time together, sometimes with David and less often with Peter, and they found out they had disconcerting enough a lot in common, and began to slightly confide in one another. Sarah mentioned her loneliness during the week and wished Peter didn't have to go so far for his work. She envied Kathleen who seemed so happy with David. Kim just nodded to that and switched the subject.
This last conversation aroused Sarah's curiosity, and she now understood that the image of perfect couple that gave David and Kathleen didn't reflect reality. She tried to have Kathleen for dinner with them two alone in order to learn a bit more, but Kathleen declined the invitation, looking embarrassed and being evasive when giving some vague excuses. Sarah thought better not to be too much insisting and told herself her new friend would talk when ready to do so.
Yet Kathleen would have liked to accept the invitation, but she hadn't dared. She knew that if she did, she would have to endure another jealousy fit from David. He just couldn't bear that she went out without him, that she did anything without him. She didn't even have the right to read a book while David was around, otherwise he came out again like "You don't really love me, you prefer reading a book rather than being with me". No matter how much she tried to put his mind at rest, each time it was the same, he remained obstinately silent and ended up going outside to "get some fresh air". And each time she was afraid, because she knew David's extreme nature. How many times he told her he couldn't live without her, that if she let him down, he wouldn't bear it, and other variations on the theme. However, David had very soon to leave awhile on the occasion of a traineeship, which meant he would be here only on weekends. Kathleen was eager to find herself a little on her own, so that she wouldn't have to pay attention to every word, every gesture.
The very first week when David was away, she invited Sarah for dinner. The latter was so glad to see that Kathleen looked much more relaxed, like freed from a heavy burden. She tried to talk to her about it, and after a little hesitation, Kathleen confessed she loved David no more and wanted to break up, but she didn't dare. Besides, she asked her friend to say not a word about them meeting.
The girls would see each other during the week, always at Kathleen's however, so as not to miss the inevitable daily phone calls from David, and the four of them would meet on most Saturdays to have dinner together. Sarah liked these meetings, undercover like, which diverted her from boredom while Peter was away. She would have liked to be able to help Kathleen, but what could she do? Yet her friend looked so upset when she would talk about David. One evening, Kathleen was close to tears, for she couldn't stand the situation anymore. The previous weekend had been particularly tiresome, she had been treated to fit after fit from David. Sarah took her into her arms to try to comfort her a little, and Kathleen began to calm down. When she lifted her head, they looked at each other and, without a word, Sarah laid her mouth on Kathleen's, then embarrassingly moved away. But Kathleen lightly touched her hand and got closer. They kissed again, this time more eagerly.
They would both look forward to each week. With tenderness, without passion, without love, without restraint, from Monday to Friday, the former would stave off her boredom with the latter, the latter would make the most of her fleeting freedom with the former.
The atmosphere on Saturday's dinners among neighbors was sometimes a bit tense.
Well...

9 commentaires:

Anonyme a dit…

Comprends rien à l'espagnol. C'est de l'anglais? Ah, c'est pour ça...

Anonyme a dit…

lol (bien joué le nom!)

Anonyme a dit…

Hello!

Salutation de circonstance, je crois, vu le poids de la langue anglaise sur ton blog!

C'est quoi, cette petite nouvelle? Une intro à une histoire plus longue, que tu concocterais à la manière d'un feuilleton?

Et (question con, mais je me sacrifie souvent pour ce genre de trucs)pourquoi en anglais? Parce que ça "sort" plus facilement? Pour le défi? Perso, je ne crois pas que j'aurais le courage de me lancer dans ce genre d'entreprise. Ou alors, après avoir bien précisé qu'il s'agissait d'une tentative linguistique novatrice, style reconstitution argotique du Gallois madiéval, revu et corrigé par 10 pintes de bière brune (rires)!!

Peewee Peeper a dit…

bobby> c'est ça, fais celui qui comprend pas, pfff !
dédé> téki ?
maître du monde> c'est juste euh... un truc, pas de suite en prévision. En anglais, parce que dans les trucs, il y en a qui viennent en anglais, d'autres en français, c'est pas moi qui choisis.

Anonyme a dit…

c'est vrai que je pensais m'en sortir pas mal en Haut-Gallois argotique, mais les textes de Pee-Pee (on peut t'appeler comme ça?) vous ramènent à votre néant!

Situation d'autant plus étonnifique qu'une "entité" se charge du choix de la forme de communication à la place de l'auteur, c'est mirobolesque!

Peewee Peeper a dit…

si tu m'appelles Pee-Pee, alors je t'appellerais Pooh-Pooh, OK ?
Et en fait, pour le choix anglais/français, comme pour beaucoup d'autres choses, c'est juste que je contrôle pas mes neurones, ils sont autonomes (et j'te jure, des fois ils font de ces trucs !)

Anonyme a dit…

I want a continuation :)

Peewee Peeper a dit…

I'll ask my neurons, but I can't promise.
(céki qu'ose pas dire son pseudo ? Qu'à cela ne tienne, je t'appelerai Ludwig Gottlieb von Haydn, si tu n'y vois pas d'inconvénient)

Anonyme a dit…

Attends, attends, j'ai une idée!
Tu prends trois tasses de café bien fort.
Tu fumes/sniffes/ingurgites un bon kilo de substances illicites autant que psychotropes (genre cocaïne, LSD, glande pinéale de chimpanzé*, etc...)
Puis tu enfonces tes doigts bien profond dans une prise de courant.
*cf "Las Vegas Parano"!!

Si...je dis bien SI tu survis à ce traitement de cheval (à qui en fait personne n'oserait jamais infliger une horreur pareille. Enfin, j'espère!), je suis certain que tu seras à même de nous concocter le plus magnifique chef-d'oeuvre d'écriture automatique jamais rédigé.
Avec, bien sûr, l'inconvénient de la redescente : "Puuutain, mais qu'est ce que j'ai raconté comme conneries, moi?! Allez, me dites pas que je l'ai mis sur mon blog, en plus.
Hé merdeuuuuuuuh!!!".

Comment ça, "Ne fous plus jamais les pieds sur ce site à donner des conseils à la noix!"?!
Ben, j'essayais juste de stimuler tes neurones, voilà tout!
Les coach artistiques sont toujours de grands incompris...