My life was more peaceful than ever. Louis and I had reddened like lobsters because the heat wave hadn’t stopped plaguing us. It had stretched out for the whole month of August, beating the record for the longest number of consecutive days of extreme heat in the city. We’d decided not to go to the bar for a while, without trading it for another. We would drink at his place on the balcony, and often we didn’t drink at all. But at the beginning of September, when the mornings became cooler and greyer, Louis convinced me to return. He knew I’d regained my strength. I had started to make myself pretty again, to sleep at night.
The temperature was mild. We hurtled down the long iron staircase leading to the street. I had lost a lot of weight during the summer, too much. But that night, my clothes were fitting me well. We both wore blue jeans and a black shirt. I didn’t feel like changing even if it was ridiculous. We had to mark our big return. We no doubt both believed we were missed at that bar.
As soon as Louis pushed the door open, I sensed his hesitation. A stranger was behind the bar. Seeing him took my breath away. He was very good looking. We took our old places and asked where the old bartender was. He’d recently quit. As we looked around at the other customers, it became evident we didn’t know anyone. We ordered some beer. Louis and I clinked our glasses like usual.
The new bartender didn’t take his eyes off me. He served me another beer once Louis was in the bathroom, signalling me to keep it a secret. I returned his winks. He pleased me much more than the old bartender. Yes, he pleased me. For once since Mia, I wanted someone to touch me.
I noticed a taciturn man drinking alone at one of the tables at the back of the bar. I had the impression I knew him, but not personally. An actor maybe, a TV or movie star. I asked Louis if he could place him and he said no, too preoccupied by the game that was playing out between the new bartender and me.
Then I remembered where I knew this man from and I almost choked on my beer. It was Anaïs Savage’s boy-friend.
No one was talking about Savage now. She’d started by disappearing, and then her disappearance itself had started to be erased. In ten years, perhaps I’d sit down in front of a true crime show with the new love of my life. I would be surprised to discover that the episode was about that girl. I would have forgotten her for years, but the details of the investigation would come back to me in a flash. What was he doing here? Did violence attract people into this dirty bar, forcing them to meet each other?
We got up to leave. The new bartender shook my hand, and I took advantage of the moment when Louis was putting his coat on to catch his index finger. We went outside. Once in the taxi, we exchanged a knowing look. We would never set foot in that place again.
*
One day the following year, Louis and I had plans to meet near the lake. I now had my own apartment, and I was doing my best to pay the rent. I arrived early to have time to read a little. After a cold winter that had annihilated all memories of the heat, spring was returning.
As I approached the pond, my heart stopped. The unimaginable was happening. B. was there. Since the day I’d left, I hadn’t seen him again. He had melted into the city; I might as well have imagined him. He was there, with his whole body and his appalling and magnificent force of attraction that I knew so well. He was sitting next to a girl. She looked at him, showing me her profile. I thought: Florence. Or maybe it was me. The magnetism between us was gnawing at my belly. B. turned in my direction at the precise moment when I registered his presence.
He observed me for a second, screwing up his eyes, then got up. I hadn’t believed he would do it. We looked at each other, each on one side of the smooth water. I looked at the girl, too. It wasn’t Florence, but another who could be readily exchanged for the next.
I walked around the lake. Louis emerged at the end of the street, at the other end of the park behind B. He stopped when he caught sight of the scene. Everything was unreal. The big, improbable reunion I’d been waiting for.
A few metres from B., I started running. Who would have believed we’d find ourselves like this? The girl got up. I was running fast now. I jumped on him. We fell on the ground.
I’d lived my whole life surrounded by people who’d convinced me I was weak. That day, with each punch that struck B.’s face, I thought I wasn’t so bad after all. I became more and more free, more and more myself. I hoped the anonymous girl would take advantage of the situation to flee toward a better life. Instead, she was elbowed while trying to stop me. Louis started running toward us. I came to life. Near that pond I loved, I felt happy. Maybe I would call Mia again. Maybe we’d leave the country. It seemed to me she had a car, but I was no longer sure. I would have to find her again to ask her. B. finally regained control. He pushed me to the ground and held me in place with his knees, his fist raised in the air.
LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION
Title: Aphelia: a novel / Mikella Nicol;
[translated by] Lesley Trites.
Other titles: Aphélie. English.
Names: Nicol, Mikella, author. | Trites, Lesley, translator.
Description: Translation of: Aphélie.
Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20189067519 | Canadiana (ebook) 20189067527 I ISBN 9781550655193 (softcover) | ISBN 9781550655254 (EPUB)
Classification: LCC PS8627.I25 A6413 2019 | DDC C843/.6—DC23
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Nicol Mikella, Aphelia
Aphelia Page 8