‘That’s wonderful,’ Valérie exclaimed, with an enthusiasm that took me by surprise.

‘Yes, it is wonderful,’ I replied, thinking: if only it were true.

Inevitably I started thinking about Marie again. I hadn’t sent her a message. She’d left my life slowly and gently, without any fuss, as if silently erasing herself. I knew it had all been my fault; I hadn’t been there for her. Several times she’d tried talking to me about it, but I hadn’t listened. Why had I retreated into my shell like that? I regretted it bitterly now, but it was too late. I have so often lived my life belatedly. I’m the kind of person who comes up with a brilliant retort only when the person who insulted me is already far away. I could try to explain everything to Marie now. Tell her I’d been going through a strange phase when life seemed to lose its flavour and I’d had no appetite for anything. A sort of depression that had blinded me to our happiness. There are times in life when you blithely trample over wonders. Actually I just told you that I’d had no appetite for anything, but that isn’t true. I’d had an appetite for destruction. Thinking back, I had the feeling that I didn’t deserve Marie. Didn’t deserve the love we shared. I knew where to look for the source of such fears. Deep down, I knew all of that. But I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I was tired of talking about me. So I let myself drift back inside my shell.

‘Aren’t you listening to me?’ Valérie asked.

‘Of course I am.’

‘What was I talking about?’

‘You … All right, it’s true, I was miles away just then.’

‘It’s okay. But you’re not like me: when I’m thinking about something else, nobody can tell! I always imagine that the other person will look in my eyes and realise I’m not paying attention. But it never happens. I just return to the conversation as if nothing happened. But you’re so transparent: it was obvious your mind was elsewhere.’

‘You’ll have to give me your secret. I’m terrible at hiding things.’

‘I just hope you’re not bored …’

‘No, not at all. You got me talking about myself, and that set me thinking. Anyway, I’m sorry. You were saying?’

‘Nothing special. Just that I was happy for you. And I was telling you about a couple I know who got back together after a separation.’

‘Oh yeah, I get the impression that’s happening more and more these days.’

‘Is it? I don’t know. But anyway, I think they realised that they were even more miserable apart from each other than they had been together.’

‘Well, that’s one reason to get back with someone,’ I said, without believing it.

After this digression, Valérie returned to her favourite subject: me. During our first conversation, she’d thought I was trying to play down the pain I’d felt at losing Marie. So she was really happy to learn that things were looking up. Her reaction made me feel stupid. I had been totally wrong about her intentions.¹⁵ Her enthusiasm did not seem faked in the slightest. She spoke to me with even more friendliness and warmth than before. Evidently I wasn’t seeing things clearly. She might be disappointed by her marriage, but that didn’t mean she was imagining herself with another man. She would mention this herself in a few minutes, in fact.