Solitude à deux

Aujourd’hui, j’ai dîné avec mon amie V. Mon amie V. que je n’ai pas vu depuis deux ans. La meilleure coéquipière pour les travaux d’équipe. Avec elle, ma job irait cent fois plus vite.

En deux ans, il s’en passe des choses. Pas d’appels, pas d’emails.

On ne savait pas de quoi parler alors on parlait en général…travail, enfants, chums, maison et rénos, souvenirs des études qu’on a fait ensemble. Les choses ne changent pas. Pour sa fête, elle n’a rien fait de spécial. Son chum ne l’a pas fêtée.

Il y a quelque chose de réconfortant à être avec quelqu’un que je connais depuis longtemps. V., je la connais depuis 1994. De la savoir dans ma vie me soulage. C’est comme si je n’étais plus seule à porter qui je suis, comme si j’avais de la compagnie avec mon passé. C’est réconfortant de ne pas avoir à tout expliquer parce que la personne sait.

Pendant ces deux ans-là, j’ai douté de notre amitié. C’est long deux ans sans voir une amie. Une amie qui a rencontré Prince Charmant et Fiancé. Elle m’a connue avant, pendant, les médicaments. Elle m’a vue rire, pleurer, crier. Elle m’a vue le cerveau à 150% puis à 40%.

Ça faisait du bien de la voir. Je ne savais pas trop quoi dire, on est pratiquement devenues des étrangères.

Mais, je la connaissais avant R., avant les enfants et la maison, avant qu’elle devienne sage, avant le REER.

J’ai souvent mentionné la solitude à deux. En couple, la solitude à deux est dure à porter. C’est se sentir seul alors qu’on a quelqu’un avec soi, une douce moitié. En amitié, la solitude à deux, c’est sentir qu’on porte la solitude de l’autre avec la sienne. La solitude à deux en amitié, c’est partager la solitude.

Ça m’a fait penser à quand j’ai revu P., dix ans après toute notre histoire. Tout à coup, je me suis sentie plus entière. Je ne savais pas que j’avais un trou à l’intérieur de moi. Quand je l’ai revu, le trou s’est comblé et je me suis sentie moins seule. Comme si tout mon passé revenait.

En fait, j’ai l’impression que V. et P….et H. et tout le monde, se promènent avec des bouts de moi, une partie de moi. Quand je les vois, ces bouts-là se recollent. C’est réconfortant. Pas d’explications à donner, ils savent, ils ont vu, entendu, ont été là. Ils me connaissent.

Mai 1995 : Histoire d’amour ordinaire

In everybody’s life there is this moment where we could have said something but didn’t.

I had a whole relationship like this. I don’t even know if it was a relationship because nothing was ever said.

I was 20 when we met. His name is Martin and he was the friend of one my roommates. I had three male roommates : Nicolas, David and Alexandre. Stéphanie also lived with us, she and I had classes together.

I had quite a crush on Martin. He was « different ». He didn’t smoke pot anymore (my roommates all smoked pot; I didn’t) and didn’t drink as much as the others. While I did my homework at the kitchen table he would come to see me and talk or he would tell me about his poetry. I didn’t really like poetry but I was moved by what he wrote and was flattered he would talk to me about it.

We were very different. I was straight. Ordinary clothes, mainly jeans, hair in a ponytail. I didn’t feel worthy of his attention and had pushed aside any idea about us coming together. I didn’t see myself talking to him about it and didn’t think he was interested. He wore his hair very long, wore a kilt with army boots and heavy metal t-shirts. This was very new to me. He played the guitar.

The fact is he was working with Alexandre and was sleeping at the apartment a lot. I was so happy to see him often. When he wasn’t there I missed him, something was missing.

I started seeing someone else since I didn’t think he was interested and I really did think it was silly of me to be infatuated with him. Experience had taught me that having strong emotions for someone wasn’t good, nothing good came out of it.

But we started becoming close and ended sleeping together. I had to end my other relationship which was going nowhere fast. I didn’t really like the guy, I just felt lonely and wanted to empty my mind of Martin.

It was the happiest time of that year and of many years. He made me laugh, I felt close to him. I don’t remember us talking much. I remember nothing of what he said except that he came from l’Annonciation and that his ex’s name was Julia. I remember the feeling of his arms around me and his hair on my skin. I remember a feeling of being in « the zone » with him.

He used to wait for me in my room, in the dark and I would find him alone in the dark sitting on my bed as I came home from work, exhausted. I was always so happy to see him.

We would walk together and sit on a bench on Saint-Hubert street. We would look at each other ready to speak then say nothing. We just couldn’t I guess. I know I couldn’t say « I love you ». I just couldn’t.

My life at that time was so complicated. I was being diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I had ended more than one relationship that year because I had moved to Montreal, I was always very sad. All I wanted was to die or to become a nun. None of those were an option.

I repeated to myself countless times that I wasn’t in love. It was just for fun.

End of term came, he went home to his parent’s place and he said he would call. He didn’t.

He came back after many weeks of absence. I had been hoping but was drowning. We went walking and came back to my place. He went away again and didn’t call even if he said he would.

I was very sad and kept repeating to myself I wasn’t in love. When he came back at the apartment, all the roommates had changed except for Stéphanie and my boyfriend was living with me. I was torn. I did the girl who didn’t care but I wanted to go away with him. He went away and never came back.

He disappeared.

I looked for him everywhere unconsciously. My heart would leap when I would see a long-haired young man in a crowd. I would see him in a bus window, in the subway. I would think of him and see him on the street.

One day, six years later, I told my story for the first time to a sexologist. I cried and I kept telling I wasn’t in love. Really ? she asked. I think you are.

I cried and cried and said that yes I did love him. To say it made me stop mourning for those few months and I stopped looking for Martin.

I don’t have this hole in my chest anymore but when I am on Facebook or on Reunion I still try to find him. I’m kind of happy I don’t. He probably has a wife, kids, the whole deal.

He had the most wonderful smile.