Molinard

Girls talks.

Talk 1.

- So? You wanted to tell me something? You look like very exited….Is it about a boy?
- A man….
- A man?
- Oh dear, yes, it is about a man.
- Why man?
- If  I would know….
- What man?
- My mother introduced us….My mother took me for a lunch into a posh place….She said that now I’m sixteen and dare to be treated properly. I hate posh places, you know….But to say “No” to my mother…..And besides, place wasn’t that posh at all. My mother said it used to be her favourite in early times.
- Well, the place is probably worth trying, but you won’t spend ages describing it, won’t you?
- Oh, nonono. We just came in and maitre guided us to the table – it was an oval white wooden table by the glass wall. I could see both the lovely park on my left and the entrance to the room on my right. A fireplace lit….Don’t you find it hysteric when they lit fireplace while there’s a  daylight? Anyway… I had funny rabbit starter, then lovely chiken breast and then it was almost over, we had a  wine bottle two thirds empty when he stepped in.
- The man?
- Yea…. He ….brought a light…. He looked around and saw my mother. My mother was telling me usual boring stuff and then saw me staring somewhere…..She stopped and turned to where I was looking at and saw him. “David…..” – she could only say. He approached us and said to my mother that he wouldn’t expect to see her here, that she has dissappeared so suddenly that day, that he still feels embarassed and has to tell her…. I concluded that  my mother definetely wasn’t an angel most of  the time… My mother said like “Jessica, meet my old friend – David Molinard”. She wasn’t her usual, her voice trembled a bit and eyes were confused, like she was looking nowhere…
- Is he still that cool?
- Oh dear…..His eyes…..There’s a fire in his look, the fire, the energy …..And his smile…..He spoke to my my mother like she was a little girl and smiled to me twice…
- And so?
- And so…..I felt so strange…..Like I’m falling….
- Falling? Where?
- I don’t know….Like all the sounds dissappeared and I only heard his voice and saw his sparkling eyes….He gave his card to mom and said that would be pleased if they could get together sometimes, perhaps, for the drink or so….
- Is he French?
- Oh yes, he is an artist, he lives in France but loves to come to London sometimes.
- And so?
- And so he left and my mother couldn’t restore speech for a while, still looking nowhere behind me….I asked her who it was, but she didn’t reply, just suddenly shragged and said that we should better go.
- So who was he?
- Mom said he used to be her friend, and then added that men are all animals and he especially.  I won’t ask further…..Do you think I’m in love?
- Why?
- I feel so strange…. I’m kinda can’t think of anything else….I think of him and I desperately want to see him again. I want to hear his voice, I want him to smile, to tell me stories, jokes…..And……
- And what?
- I don’t know. I feel like I’m getting mad. As the phone rings I rush – I feel like it might be him – of course it is not, but… And as I walk the streets I look the faces – they all seem so brutally dead.  What should I do?
- Nothing. Seems that love caught you, or you caught love….Happens. It will soon pass probably,  love needs fuel to maintain the flame, and since you don’t see him – how could it resist any longer?
- I don’t know. But I never felt like this. Boys…..They all seem to be looking at me as….yes, as animals….Those sticky looks…And a speech, oh my God, this mindless crap…Do they all go to stupid speech cources? I can’t bear….
- But boys are real, and he is a phantom….
- Well, I could see him…..He lives in France, I know his name, his an artist….Do you think it’s stupid to want to see him? If I go to France, I wanted anyway….   
- Well, going to France is always a good idea, at least for us, Brits. If you just go to France, you may only go to France. You do not necessarily go to France because he is French. Don’t you ? There definetely must be something else to see… This Effel tower, for example. And there definetely must be good quality croissants in France. So the reasons to go to France there are….I would go if I would you….
- So decided – I go to France…..France!
- Be careful, there might be French boys in there….. Or men…..
- Do you think this is love?
- You keep asking me the same question……
- Well, I heard so much about love, I dreamed about it, I’ve imagined it, I thought that love would come to me one day. And so this day came, I believe, it came. I feel so different, like I’ve got what I deserve,  I found a soul that would complete mine, that would make me fly over the blur of days, those moments of loneliness, when I feel depressed and miserable. How could I feel bad now, I have him to think about, to imagine him taking my hand, kissing me, embracing me,   

Talk 2

- You wouldn’t believe it….You wouldn’t.
- You met him, yeah?
- Met? I found him, I called him, and I saw him!
- That’s it?
- Oh silly!…Of course not. You want details, I guess….
- Depends…. You won’t give me the size of Paris pigeons population, won’t you?
- Well, I was in Paris. Effel tower is, well, tall, but quite a bizzarre thing when approached closely….And those lifts…..Anyway. I spent few days whith my group – you know, they had whole programm arranged. I hate tribal behaviour. And so I didn’t have a chance to get any closer to him. I’ve almost gave up, but the day before departure the concierge asked why I looked more and more upset every day. He guessed that probably I was dissappointed by Paris which is quite unusual. I ‘ve said that I want to phone to a friend, and I only know his name, and I wanted to see him, but we leave tomorrow and so on. He asked me the name and when we got back in evening, he gave me the number. So I called.
- I believe he was quite surprised?
- Yes, he was. He said that obviously remembers me, and that he liked me from the first meeting, and that he wanted to talk to mom and me but sircumstances were discouraging, but he would be pleased  to see me the day after, if I wouldn’t mind.
- The day of departure?
- Well we were due to leave at 3 pm, and we had free time before that, so I said ok, and we met at the bistro near hotel at 10. It was fantastic. He was tender, sweet, his talk was so relaxed and charming, and his voice…..I felt mad. We spent couple of hours together, then he left and I felt like  never  before, like the whole world was looking at me and was smiling at me. Paris seemed to be full of love, harmony, happiness….
- Well, Paris is usually full of love and happiness, at least as they say in travel guides. So what now?
- Well, I call him every day…..
- You joking…..
- No, not at all, I don’t want mom to know anything about that, she wouldn’t approve me being phoned by an animal, so we decided that I’d ring anytime I want.
- We?
- Well, that was a decision that we made together…..What’s wrong about it?
- When “we”  substitutes “me” and “him” – that’s the sign.
- Of what?
- Of everything. Of a pair. Do you realise what you are doing?
- What….. I love this man, I never loved in my life, so I don’t have anything to compare with, but I just feel it more and more….. I even see him in my dreams…..
- Often……
- Every night. He kisses me…..He embrases me….And, we make love.
- But you don’t know how to make love, I’m afraid….
- Well, I imagine it. And I can feel it. It feels soooo good, so sweet, like the waves of pleasure run again and again, reaching every single corner of my body, like my whole body starts shining and singing, like I feel unbearably light and my body flies to heaven, and I reach the skies and I melt into white and rose clouds, and it feels so warm….. 
- Oh dear…….Well…….You know……We all have  dreams from time to time ……. I do…..But nothing like that….. Is he married?
- No. He says he is divorced.  Oh God, why you are so kind to me? Why it all is so perfect? I’m just sixteen, and the first real man I meet is just so gorgeous,  and he loves me, and we should be together and my life will be all so perfect, so happy, so fine….I just can’t believe it. Why me?
- You wanted it…….You got it…
- Oh Joan, I just don’t believe it.
- I believe…..You lucky.


Talk 3

- Yesss! I can’t wait to tell you, it happened!
- What?
- I’m a woman.
- Oh dear….You aren’t a pregnant woman yet, I believe….
- No silly…..How can you…..
- If there is something you want to tell me then tell me….

Talk 4

- Bastard. Horrible miserable act of hell, idiot, bastard, fucking asshole,shit….shit……shit…..fuck………I’m stupid…girl…..stupid…….
- Wow,wow, stop the waters, dear….Are you here? Jessica? Jess!  Talk to me…..Don’t cry, please, oh no, please…… Ok, cry……. cry, dear……. It helps…….

Talk 5

- Heard the news? Plane crash, David’s house?
- I don’t care….Asshole. Can we talk of something else?
- I thought…..well, if you don’t want…..
- This miserable piece of shit  has ruined my life….Look at me…..I’m a whore!……..I fuck everyone I see, I fuck neighbours, plummers, I fuck policemen, I go to worst dirtiest places and I fuck junkies,  I ‘m just who I am – a whore, a whole for any dirty dick around, a whore…I’m a whore…..
- Jess, may I ask you something?
- Ask, no matter……
- Do you hate yourself?
- Oh, do I hate myself? I hate the whole world…The world, the people…..the plummers, the country, the weather…the mirror…..I don’t want to live in this shitty fucking world of  assholes, bloody bastards, hell……….I hate…….hate…….hate………
- Jess, oh dear…..
- Why I suffer that hard, why……….
- Jess, talk to me, please…..Jess…..

Talk 6
- Hi dear, so how are you?
- Not bad, not bad. You look gorgeous dear, this haircut, I imagine this is what a trendy haircut should be……
- Japan. They’re absolutely crazy, the whole country is of totally free expression, whatever you have to express….
- Staying here for ?…..
- For a month or so. Jim has still things to fix there, he comes later and we’ll leave for Italy……
- How is he?
- Oh he’s fine….His business is so interesting, he would probably be promoted to chief of laboratory…..I would never believe that plastic could be so exiting. Still, he finds plastic the most facinating thing in the world. They experiment with new materials, he is always writing formulas, formulas, everywhere. He once wrote a formula on the mirror in our bathroom. And it was my bloody expensive lipstick.
- He does have sense of humor……
- No, he doesn’t……Absolutely……He doesn’t have a sense of food, of weekend, of cinema, of friends, of music, of sex……He has a sense of plastic, and it seems to be self contained world, seems…….He says plastics are living things, he call them names, his favourite is Jennifer…..
- What about her?
- He says Jennifer is the most mild and gentle caracter he has ever met in his life, she is a bit naïve, too much innocent and he’s afraid that she could get into  the wrong company. She is so young, pure….
- And we are talking about a plastic?
- No, we talk about polymere…..He gets so angry when I say a word plastic…..He says that polymere is a polymere, and ABS is an ABS,  kevlar is a kevlar, and that the person calling them all a single word “plastic” is ignorant and primitive….His worst fear is the day when Jennifer will be finished and marketing would call it a “commercial” name….
- But he is a good caring husband….
- Oh yes………He is…….He is a good caring husband……And I’m good caring wife…….And we have good caring home……………And lovely bathroom…….And I spent all our money for what  I want……..And I feel superhappy woman……..And I feel a good lovely plastic doll………A Barbie…………A Batman’s girlfriend…………Stupid smile happy plastic toy……….I don’t live Joan, I do not even exist……
- Well, that is what you wanted….You wanted good caring husband, money, live outside Europe, whole new life…..You’ve got whole new life……You always had what you wanted.
- What do you mean?
- David is in prison…..
- What?
- Yes, one of his boys models accused him in sexual abuse……We would never know, if it was true, but he is in prison. The man is definetely paying it back…  Friends denied him, his family is dead, he has  lost all……. The only thing he lives for is to probably see you one day, to say sorry, to kiss your shoe….
- Oh, don’t be pathetic, you, missis Wisdom.
- I am not. Here is his letter to you. I got it with his note. He is in pain.
- Letter? What the hell I care…….David…………………………………………………………………………………………my sweet devil. You know what’s funny? I do not blame him anymore…..He is like…..Well, he was……He was a part of my life for a while……I lived before I met him, I lived further……. I had what I had…..I was never satisfied with what a average girl could be, I wanted extremely best, the most, the brightest….He gave me what I wanted. I had fantastic love, fantastic romance, he was a perfect lower, tender, sweet, funny…….He made me feel in a year what others don’t feel in whole life….. You know what? I had a wonderful yoth! Well, few not so wonderful years, but still it was all my fault….. I couldn’t bear the fact that he had many women before me, they  lived with him, but, still, he was big hearted and gave them house, food, money, care, it didn’t mean I would necessarily join them….. And, besides, we have never spoke afterwards. May be he would have told me something….And I’d been totally settled. Why I did what I did?
- You want the letter?
- Yes, but I’ll read it right here, straight away…..
………………………………..
- Jess? Would you like some tea?
- Have you got any vodka dear?
- I do, you want it with orange juice or….
- Straight…….. Whooh!……….
- What is he saying?
- “My dear Jessica” – very formal, isn’t he.-  “My dear Jessica. My days are not so exiting, I’m afraid.  I’m here where I am, and where I’m probably have to be. I have a lot of time here, days are endless, but nothing can disturb my thoughts. The first days were awfull, I thought I ‘ll became insane. Then I got used to my solitude, and thoughts started to visit my mind”. – Bloody asshole, thoughts started to visit his head! Incredible!


Talk 7

- Well,  Joan, two news.
- Let me guess, good one and bad one….
- Bingo. The mess is all around. The mess.
- Are you in love with French artist somehow or what?
- David gets out of prison next Friday.
- I suppose that’s the good one.
- Yes. And my mother died.
- Oops….Well…
- Before she died I visited her in hospital.
- Good girl……
- She said David is my father….
- Oh dear……….
- Oh dear…… Bit messy, isn’t it?
- It is……Are we watching TV or what…..
- No, I’m afraid not.
- So let’s watch TV.
- What?
- I said let’s watch TV…..
- Well, you know…….you know what?
- What?
- Let’s fucking go watch fucking TV!