Pregnancy Congratulations

Mathilde last (X) - Victor

was the time when we were doing partying in the houses and from some time late at night, people began to point and had the difficulty understanding their connections, they were friends of a friend of the sister of a brother, they had heard of an evening, and they were there, there. They were allowed to enter, they were left mingle with us and the beers that were lying and cigarette smoke that hovered and vintage music. Victor was always the first to say let them go, are welcome, everyone is welcome, the world is so welcome.

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I could not remember so well when I went down to two and a half Victor Laurier, relying on the ramp and stopping at each step because my face was going to reconstruct, to get back on and it was tremendously bad.

pain in my ears was so bitter that I the impression of becoming deaf and realizing it. I had this impression, as if I might die of a stupid cold in the heart of Montreal. I sat on the stairs, my arm extended upward, still holding the rail, unable to let go, a buttock slightly raised due to the distance of the stretch. Unable to drop the ramp.

They had arrived, three young men and others like us, well dressed, and later, when nobody was paying attention to them, they began to fuck a brothel not possible. I mean, we, we put the music too loud, in fact, we smoked too much weed and it still will not crap in the toilet, but hey, it was still decent in the sense of decency is a generational issue. I made love with Mathilde, and we said fuck or stuff, but I do not speak with my parents, I do not brag at Christmas, before my grandfather who was becoming senile. There were young people who did not care, but who did not care with a kind of social awareness watermark in the background. We did not care, but nobody cared because we were not bourgeois, or something like that.

In those days, we had the right to be reunited in a suburban house at three o'clock in the morning and listen to music loudly and laugh by telling how they had managed to get the beer to an adult asking politely, making complete sentences.

When I returned after kissing Matilda front of everyone, to make her laugh and to make her blush, I saw one guy with the cock in one hand. Far away in my field of vision, blurry and out because of the beer and time late, I could see one of his friends busy plucking to literally pull the lavatory wall of the bathroom. The jet of water started coming out and I asked myself the question whether it was real. I still had the taste of lips on mine Matilda and I went back to see the guy waving a trophy as the faucet stainless steel bathroom of the house of my friend Victor.

The other struggles to get the sink, he left the door open, as if to say he did nothing he was ashamed, he was not trying to shit. His two arms were arranged along the basin, it pulled its forces above all, a sort of smile on his face. What he was supposed to mean, what kind of point could he want to bring? I do not understand what was happening, I felt like an outsider caught between two armies, which receives bomb on his head and is defined as collateral damage.

I felt at both extremely angry and extremely safe.

The guy who had managed to pull the tap was walking and he wore his trophy high in the air. The music continued, but she had become disturbing. I felt a strange uneasiness. And I stared at this guy who looked like me, but who lived light years away from me, I knew damn what to do. Matilda was blocked too, but I felt that it carried the weight on my arm asking me something, I felt this weight demanded something.

Victor descended from the first floor because the music had suddenly stopped . He came down quickly by linking his belt, belly, his slender body, his torso with a small arrow of hair between the breasts. It was not scary, but he was home, he had a responsibility. He did not care that you drink a beer or liquor bottles snatched from the minibar, but he still had a responsibility to the objects and furniture and sinks that do not belong to him.

At that time, Victor's mother was living alone with him in this small house near the Boulevard des Prairies, in the old quarters of Brossard, it was almost never there, occupied for years to die from cancer of Victor lungs associated more from his father only three packs a day she smoked since she was thirteen. It was extended stays in general hospitals and specialized hospitals and Victor took care of the house, caring for her younger brother and organized the most memorable of my teenage partying. I was at Victor french for the first time at Victor they had discovered jazz, we met with Victor to drink how ungrateful and unconscious youth, mixing with the Bud sambuks shooters, in which Victor had spent our best days of the year, when everyone was happy for no particular reason, just because nobody knew what it was to be unhappy.