I've made a spreadsheet for the association, for the lawyer, for the judge. The dates of our meetings. The ones where he cooperated and the ones where he didn't. All the weekends Paul requested at the association that Laurent canceled either the night before or just before leaving. All the vacations. All the Wednesday afternoons. I spent a whole day going through Laurent's texts and emails, putting all of his hate into a single Excel file. This has been going on for almost two years. We might get a hearing after Christmas. Even the people at the association are saying that Paul and I should be able to see each other normally. That Laurent doesn't have any reason to be acting the way he is. The director's been leaving me messages, she says it's pathetic, she tells me to hang in there. In the beginning she said she wasn't worried, that Paul was fine, that she thought he seemed really strong, but since Laurent had put a stop to the visits at the association, since Paul got yelled at for asking if he could see me on Wednesdays and go to Montlouis one weekend per month, she says there might be a risk, that we might need to involve child protection, but she also says you never know what'll happen with child protection, that sometimes children can get placed in foster care, that you end up with them on your back until the child turns eighteen, she says it's best not to involve them, she says there's not a lot I can do.

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I take the 4 from Barbès, change at Gare-de-l’Est, take the 7, get out at Riquet, and meet her at hers. We talk, we sit on her bed, the whole thing is stressing me out, I don't want to come, I just want to want you. I tell her that having kids is the mother of all bitches, it's like a fatal wound, it's worse than your parents dying or a relationship going down the drain, I tell her she was right not to have any. She tells me to calm down, she tells me not to be mad at her, she tells me he's just a child, she tells me everything will be OK. I'm wearing jeans, I don't have a T-shirt on, she draws two crosses over my nipples with her finger, she says that's what lesbians used to do in the ’90s, they would go out topless with two Xs taped across their nipples, she says I'd look good like that, XX mother. I've shaved my head, it's starting to get cold, she says she'd like to meet him sometime, there's no rush.

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