Bethsabée et Elio (ENG version)

Chapter II

II

After a seemingly endless night, Bethsabée's mother woke her from a short and troubled sleep. Thousands of questions had raced through her mind as darkness settled outside, taking advantage of the absence of the sun. Why had she received this letter? What did it mean? And most importantly, who could have possibly left it for her!? Bethsabée desperately needed to talk to someone to get an outside opinion.

At break time, she joined her group of friends whom she hadn't even had time to greet since, lost in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed the passing of time as she got ready in her bathroom. She hurried to show them the letter she had carefully folded into the back pocket of her jeans when leaving her house. The first of her two friends, a petite reserved blonde always impeccably dressed, skimmed through the letter and found it somewhat ridiculous. She didn't quite grasp its purpose and quickly lost interest, preferring to continue enjoying the fruit salad she had just started. The second friend, on the other hand, read the missive with particular attention, already imagining thousands of scenarios, each more fanciful than the last. Bethsabée somewhat expected her to be the most interested. Originally from Australia, the green-eyed brunette facing her always wore a happy expression, a quality Bethsabée appreciated in those around her. Excited as if she had just discovered a treasure, the energetic little ball of energy who usually animated the trio of friends seized her two companions and forced them to sit on a bench dampened by the morning dew.

She made it clear that it was essential to devise a plan and began questioning Bethsabée insistently. Did you see anyone put something in your locker? Have you made any recent acquaintances, just before receiving the letter? Or perhaps, do you know someone capable of writing such a strange text? Although the answer to all these questions was obviously no, Bethsabée still wanted to emphasize that she found the little poem rather beautiful and that it had sparked her appreciation. The blonde sitting beside her took advantage of this, knowing that Bethsabée couldn't see her, to raise her eyebrows. However, this gesture earned her a reproachful look from her friend who was still standing in front of them. Following this lively discussion, the bell rang, and Bethsabée got up to return to class, carrying with her the bitter impression of not having been fully listened to.

Returning from the long day she had just spent debating the potential sender, Bethsabée collapsed on the gray sofa in the living room. Suddenly, as she closed her eyes, exhausted, an avalanche of friendly licks covered her cheek with a slimy drool. Her black-muzzled companion didn't even give her a second's respite as he was already demanding his daily walk. Forced to step outside, Bethsabée grabbed the jacket she had just hung on the coat rack and took the leash hanging on the peg as well.

As she reached the park and was sheltered by the thick foliage hanging from the tree branches, the sky cleared, as if mocking her, reinforcing the idea that she had of this tiring day where everything seemed to act against her. Approaching a bench, she saw it as the perfect opportunity to retie her shoelaces. Leaning over, one foot on the wooden slats where many people had likely sat before, she tied a simple knot before delving into her imagination. She tried to imagine the author of the letter she had received. Perhaps he was old, bearded, ugly, and suffering from serious mental issues? Bethsabée immediately preferred to erase the unpleasant image she had in mind and replace it with that of a famous poet who was, in fact, gifting her an advance copy of his poetry collection. Now walking, Bethsabée amused herself by imagining this man in all sorts of ways and let herself be carried away in the maze of her creativity with her only contact with the outside world being the force her dog applied to the leash.

Later in the day, busy at her desk, she heard the door of the house close. She took a quick glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table. 5:30 PM. It must have been her father coming home from work. She descended the steps of the spiral staircase, which took up a considerable amount of space in the entrance hall, and, seeing that she hadn't been mistaken, greeted him with a kiss. She asked him how his day had gone, and without really paying attention to the response he was giving, she showed him the poem and explained. However, when he finished reading the sonnet, her father didn't have much to say, except that perhaps the author had mistaken the recipient. So, Bethsabée put away the piece of paper she had copied to preserve the original, then went back upstairs to her room, disappointed but also ashamed of not having listened to what her father had told her. Regardless, since today wasn't her day, it was better to continue working and, above all, to stop thinking about this mysterious poem.

The next day, as soon as her mother returned from work, she begged her to listen for a moment. Her mother, curious to see her daughter in such a state, opened her ears wide and read the letter Bethsabée handed her with attention. Once the explanations were given, her mother hugged her and gave her opinion. As a former French teacher, she judged the poem to be very well-written and supposed it must be some kind of declaration of love. Beth, as her mother liked to call her, smiled, pleased to receive an optimistic opinion. Then, she kissed her mother and left.

⁂

In recent days, Elio kept crossing paths with Bethsabée in the corridors of his school. Every time he saw her, he remained undisturbed, as usual, while discreetly keeping an eye on her behavior. Eventually, he realized that she was completely unaware of the identity of the anonymous author, which suited him just fine. Indeed, he had planned to remain anonymous for a while in order to intrigue Bethsabée as much as possible. Another time, while he was working on his endurance in the park, he crossed paths with Bethsabée accompanied by her dog. She gave him the impression that she was traveling in another world, completely disconnected from reality. He found the situation strange but looked away and continued running, gradually increasing the amplitude of his strides.

Sitting on the chair at his desk placed in a corner of the room, Elio was thinking. He stared at the shelf where the numerous awards he had won were displayed. The room in which he slept was about thirty square meters, mainly occupied by old oak furniture that he had arranged to judiciously fill the space. Except for the imposing double bed that stood in the center of the room and the bookcase filled with famous works, everything intensely evoked, without exception, the world of sports. From training equipment to bibs pinned on the lilac wall, any visitor would be able to guess what Elio dedicated his life to. However, for that, visitors would have to come to his place. Indeed, Elio had a few friends and knew many people, but the person he got along with best was himself. So, it was only natural that he had decided to stay alone and focus on his goals. He considered solitude as one of the sacrifices to be made to reach the top level, even if it didn't bother him, not at all.

As his head was still oriented towards his achievements, an idea came to him. If Bethsabée seemed disturbed when he crossed paths with her outside, it might be because she was racking her brains trying to identify the author of the letter so much that it significantly troubled her? That's why he absolutely had to take advantage of this opportunity to check if Bethsabée was indeed the quick-witted girl he had imagined on the first day he saw her. To do this, he began writing complex clues in pencil, each revealing information about himself.

Thirty minutes later, he inserted two elaborate clues into an envelope, intended to push Bethsabée into deep reflection. This time, he marked the mail with a capital B, suggesting to Bethsabée that she was not unknown to him. Satisfied with what he had written, he wondered if it wasn't ultimately a bit too complicated to decipher. Nevertheless, he thought that in the worst case scenario, she wouldn't understand, and it would simply mean that he had potentially misjudged her. Then, he placed the paper on his desk, next to his agenda so as not to forget it. On these two pieces of paper, he had written:

33.375308 -111.757835

Aurélien 1897

That evening, Elio couldn't get anything right. He showed apparent slowness, displayed technical shortcomings, and seemed, according to his coach, absent. Yet, he didn't feel anything special, except for this slight discomfort in his head. It was as if his body didn't really want to train, as if his head was unevenly divided in two. One part, disciplined, wanted to practice and progress by applying itself to the maximum, while the other, the smaller of the two, had stayed at home, preoccupied with other things that it considered more important than its desire for success. Despite the feeling that a part of him was missing, he made an effort to conclude this training session by remaining as focused as possible.

Once in the car, his father asked him if the training had gone well, but Elio lied, claiming that everything had gone smoothly and that he was noting encouraging progress. His father believed him because Elio was able to easily conceal what he was feeling. Indeed, he was used to not showing any emotion, making it impossible for anyone to read him.