‘Why?’

‘To talk about your situation.’

‘What is our situation?’

‘You know it better than me, I guess.’

‘Not really. I get the feeling she doesn’t actually know what she wants. One day she wants to be with me, another day she just blanks me.’

‘So what do you think is going on?’

‘I dunno … she’s a girl.’

‘You don’t think she’s right to have doubts?’

‘Why? We’re good together. I don’t see the problem.’

‘She’s worried you’ll do to her what you did with the other girls. That’s what she told me.’

‘And what did I do?’

‘You dumped them.’

‘So? Is that a crime? I didn’t love them.’

‘I’m not judging you. I’m just telling you that the situation is making her uneasy. You must understand that …’

‘It’s weird talking to you about this. I don’t know you. She’s a big girl, isn’t she? Can’t she just tell me this herself?’

‘Yes … of course …’

‘So why’s she sending you? Why’s she getting you to say all this stuff?’

‘It’s not an easy thing for her to talk about. Maybe she thought, with someone on her side … things would be less … risky.’ ‘What risk are you talking about?’

‘The risk of being disappointed, I suppose.’

‘That’s stupid. There’s always a risk in life, don’t you think?’ he said, strangely mature all of a sudden.

‘Yes, that’s true.’

‘Everything we’re saying now, is it going to be in your book?’

‘Maybe … I don’t know.’

‘Oh, I get it. You’re going to turn me into a #MeToo bastard.’

‘No, no …’

‘Yeah, that’s it. I don’t trust you at all. This stuff is none of your business!’

‘It was Lola who asked me to meet you.’

‘Well, you should have said no! Haven’t you got anything better to do than trying to solve some teenage girl’s problems? You’re a fucking pervert. Put that in your book! If you talk about me, write that I said that: you’re an old perv!’

‘…’

He stood up and hurried out of the café. I could have been disconcerted by the turn that our meeting had just taken, but my first thought was that this young man had an immense amount of charisma. Which explained everything. At only eighteen, he’d shown great self-assurance. I hadn’t been able to control him. I was annoyed at myself for the way I’d handled the interview. But I could understand that he thought the whole situation was unfair and even stressful, given my position. Perhaps I could have told him that whatever he said to me would be ‘off the record’, as certain journalists do with politicians. But that wasn’t my project; I was there to write down reality, even if the scenes fell flat or were cut short. In any case, at least he couldn’t say I hadn’t respected his wish to include his insult.

63

A few minutes later, I got a voice message from Lola. She was coldly furious. ‘I hate you. Clément just dumped me. You’re such an idiot. Last night my parents were yelling at each other and almost started hitting each other because of you. What are you trying to do with your stupid project – screw up our family? Well, congratulations, you did it. Bravo, Mr Writer! You’re going to ruin everything. And I was stupid asking you to help me. So fucking stupid! It’s obvious you don’t understand anything about life. No wonder your wife left you.’