There is practically one month of summer left, and I haven’t had time to do anything that I wanted. I guess that is what comes with having a single, working mother as a parent. My eleven-year-old sister Delphine and I had an option to visit our father in Marseille, but we hate his wife (never will you hear us call her our stepmom!). She’s, for lack of better terms, a nerd. She doesn’t allow for us to have any privacy, and she needs to know where we are 24/7. If I am relaxing in my room, she’ll freak out and accuse us of sneaking around.
Paranoia. They have to have something to hide. Delphine and I prefer to wait until Père comes to Lille to visit us so we don’t have to put up with la putain.
Anyway, my friends are in Lille, so if I EVER had free time, I’d want to spend it with them, NOT la putain’s 13 year old daughter Léa. She’s basically crazy, to say the least. She has a deranged crush on me, and she constantly asks me invasive questions.
Some people have it worse, though, like my friend Sabine. I considered her sister to be crazy until I learned the dangerous truth. I couldn’t live with that. I basically protected Sabine when her sister and a group of awful girls went against her. It was the right thing to do, and I’m happy that Maman raised me to be the “perfect gentleman”. She said that she didn’t want me to end up like my father, and considering who my father is with, I want to be the furthest thing from him. My parents got divorced when I was six because he was having an affair with that creep. How low. I could never treat a girl that way, especially if she was my wife. Adultery is the lowest thing a person can do, and it destroys lives. My mother suffered from a rough bout of depression, and I hated seeing her like that. Delphine drew numerous fun, happy pictures for her, and it made me sad to hear Maman tell her that those didn’t make her feel much happier.
After Maman got the treatment she much needed, I vowed never to treat a girl like that. I even encouraged Maman to date again. Fortunately, she did, and her boyfriend Christophe is definitely a better role model for me than my dad was.
I miss talking to Sabine about this. I could email her all I wanted, but it wasn’t the same as talking to her in person. She basically grew up with me, and she was a friend when I needed it. The least I could do was be the much needed friend when those girls tried to make her life miserable. I will admit that I had a crush on her (had being the key word), but I was always uncertain of whether she liked me back or not. When Gérard moved here, I was under the impression that she was extremely impressed by Gérard, his passive aggressive and bitingly sarcastic sense of humor, and his perceived wealth. Gérard is one of my closest friends, but I do need some time away from him. He wears thin on me too quickly. Sabine doesn’t, though. She never really has. I mean, she could basically be a total maudite vache at times, and she could scream and get nasty with you, but something about her makes me overlook that. I’m not sure what though.
Maybe “did” was an understatement. I still DO like her. I enjoy the few emails she sends me each month, even the ones that contain Miley Cyrus fangirl material. That’s another thing- because of Sabine, I have a few Miley songs on my iPod. I ask her when she plans on coming back to Lille, and she either ignores that question or says je ne sais pas.
Then again, I’m not sure why I even care so much. I know we men are supposed to break girls’ hearts, but once again, the gentleman in me cannot fathom doing that. At a risk of sounding like a typical American middle school girl (in Sabine’s opinion, anyway), Sabine broke my heart. Plain and simple. I don’t think she’ll ever realize it, nor do I think she thinks what she did would matter so much. But it does/did matter. It still upsets me to think about it.
There’s so much more to that, but I don’t have much time to explain. Delphine wants me to take her to buy a new CD.