I come home , grab a bottle of water from the fridge and go straight to my room. I don’t need to inspect the premises to know that Sabine is still in the office.
Sabine is a workaholic, so most of the time I have this huge house all to myself. But I prefer to stay in my room.
I’m sorry about Sabine. Sorry her life was
changed forever the day she found herself stuck with me.
But my mother was an only child and, my grandparents being
died since I was two, she didn’t really have a choice, I guess. Basically, I was either going to live with her – my father’s twin sister – or it was a foster family until I was eighteen.
years. And even though she didn’t know anything about raising a child, I hadn’t even left the hospital when she had already sold her apartment, bought this huge house, and hired one of the best decorators in county. ‘Orange to decorate my room.
In addition to the essentials – a bed, a chest of drawers, a desk – there is also a flat-screen TV, a huge dressing room, a bathroom
gigantic with Jacuzzi and shower, a balcony with a view
sensational overlooking the ocean, without forgetting my den: a games room equipped with a second flat screen, a bar with sink, a microwave, a mini-fridge, a dishwasher, a stereo, armchairs, tables, poufs… the whole thing. It’s funny, before
I would have given anything to own a piece like this. And now I would give anything to go back.
As she spends her life with her fellow lawyers and their VIP clients, Sabine may imagine that all this luxury is
necessary. I never knew if she had not had children because her work had not given her the time, because she had not yet met the man of her life or else because
that she had never wanted to have one on principle. Maybe a
mixture of the three.
It may seem strange that I know nothing about it, me being a telepath. But the fact is that I don’t necessarily perceive the
people’s motivations. I especially see the events. Series of flashes that reflect the lives of others, a bit like picture books or trailers. Sometimes they are symbols
that I have to decode. A bit like in tarot cards or in
Animal Farm by George Orwell, which we studied in literature class last year.
Sometimes it’s far from obvious, and I sometimes misinterpret it. But every time this happens, I realize my mistake, because an image can have different meanings. For example, one day I saw a big heart torn in two and I thought it was a disappointment in love, until the
The woman in question collapses, overcome by a heart attack. These are difficult puzzles to unravel. But images never lie.
Finally, I believe that we do not need to be extralucid to
know that when people want a child, they dream of a chirpy little thing in pastel baby clothes, not a blonde teenager
1.65 m telepath, with blue eyes, who lugs luggage
emotional weight on your shoulders. It’s for all these
reasons that I try to be as discreet as possible and not hang around Sabine.
And I also keep to myself the fact that I receive a visit from my deceased little sister almost every day.
The first time Riley appeared to me, she was standing at the foot of my bed in the hospital, holding a flower in one hand, waving at me.
the other. I don’t know what woke me up, because she didn’t make a single sound. I must have felt his presence, a change in the
room, a heavier atmosphere.
At first I thought it was a hallucination, a side effect of the painkillers they were giving me. But after blinking and rubbing my eyes, I had to face the facts: she was
still there, and in fact it hadn’t even occurred to me to scream or call for help.
I watched her approach, pointing to my casted arms and leg. She laughed. With a silent laugh, obviously, but I didn’t find it funny. Seeing that I was angry, she changed her expression and asked me, using gestures, if I was in pain.
I shrugged, still a little offended and quite shaken to see her there.
Where are mom and dad? I asked, although I wasn’t entirely convinced it was really her. And Caramel? She tilted her head as if to let me know that they were there, next to her, but I couldn’t see anything.
I don’t understand.
She just smiled, miming that it was time to go back to sleep by leaning her cheek on her hands.
I closed my eyes, although I would never have let her order me around before. But I immediately reopened them.
Hey! Who allowed you to take my sweater? Pfutt, it had evaporated!
I spent the rest of the night beating myself up for asking such a stupid, petty, selfish question. I had the opportunity to solve one of life’s most enigmatic questions, to
penetrate the greatest mystery that has occupied humanity since the dawn of time. But I had to ruin everything by blaming my sister for helping herself from my cupboard. It seems that bad habits die hard.
The second time, I was so happy to see her that I didn’t even mention the fact that she was not only wearing my
favorite sweater, but also my best jeans (which were so big they wrinkled at her ankles) and the charm bracelet she had dreamed of since they gave them to me for my thirteenth birthday.
On the contrary, I smiled at him as if nothing had happened.
So, where are they, mom and dad?
I hoped to see them materialize by concentrating very hard. But Riley pretended to flap his wings.
What ? They’re angels, right? I couldn’t believe it.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, then burst into silent, rib-holding laughter. I let my head fall back on
the pillow. Frankly, I thought she was abusive, even if she was dead. But I wanted to avoid an argument at all costs.
Great, thank you. Let go. Okay, come on, tell it. How is it there? I mean, in heaven?
She closed her eyes and raised her palms to the sky, as if
she was wearing something. And then a painting appeared out of nowhere. I leaned over to gaze at a landscape that could only be paradise, highlighted by a cream border and a gold frame. The ocean was a deep blue, the cliffs were jagged and wild, the blond sand, the trees in flower, and a small island stood out.
loomed on the horizon.
But what are you doing here, then?
She shrugged, and the painting disappeared. And her with it.
Hospitalized for more than a month for fractures, head trauma, internal bleeding and so on, I was nothing but wounds and bumps with a deep cut on my forehead. And while I was swaddled in bandages and force-fed with medicine, Sabine took care of everything – liquidating the house, organizing the funeral and packing my things in preparation for my departure for the South.
She offered to make her a list of what I wanted to take. The vestiges of my previous quiet little existence in Eugene, Oregon, that I wanted to carry with me to the scary new life that awaited me in Laguna Beach, California. But, apart from a few clothes, I didn’t want anything. I couldn’t bear to see a single memory of what I had lost, and a stupid box stuffed with stupid gadgets would never be able to give me back my family…
The whole time I was stuck in my room
immaculate and sterile, I regularly received visits from a psychologist, an intern overflowing with enthusiasm, dressed in a vest
beige and armed with a notepad. He always began our sessions by asking me how I was experiencing this “tragic loss” (I quote). After his blunt question, he tried to convince me to go to room 618, where they would give me psychological support.
There was no question that, sitting in a circle in the company
from a handful of desperate people, I’m waiting for my turn to tell everyone the story of the worst day of my life. What use could this kind of therapy have, I ask you? Would I really be better off by affirming in public what I already knew, that
I was responsible for what had happened to my family, and what’s more, I was so stupid, selfish and lazy that by dint of dawdling I had deprived myself of eternity?
Sabine and I barely spoke during the flight. I had
simulated the grief, the pain from my injuries, but in reality I needed space. I knew nothing of her inner conflict, she was doing her best, but she couldn’t help but ask herself, “Why me?” “.
Me, I never ask myself why me, but why them and not me
?…
I didn’t want to cause him any pain either. After all the trouble she had gone to to welcome me and offer me a real
house, she must not know that her efforts and her good will were of no use. She could have dumped me
I wouldn’t have minded any shithole.
On the way from the airport to the house, the view was limited to
the sea, the sand and the sun. When I arrived, Sabine immediately showed me my room, and I, after a quick glance, just muttered a vague thank you.
I’m sorry, but I have to leave you, she apologized, apparently in a hurry to return to the office, where everything was
organized and coherent, a thousand miles from the topsy-turvy universe of a traumatized teenager.
The door barely closed, I threw myself on my bed and, face in my hands, I burst into tears.
No, but aren’t you ashamed? someone said. Look at a
little around you? The flat screen, the fireplace, the bubble bath? I wonder what more you need!
I thought you weren’t talking?
I rolled over and glared at my little girl.
sister who, by the way, wore a pink Juicy tracksuit, gold Nikes and a fuchsia wig, like a Chinese doll.
Of course I’m talking, are you stupid or what?
But other times…
I was just having fun, that’s all. Not enough to make a big deal out of it.
She whirled around my room, brushing against the desk and the laptop and iPod on it. And then, with her hands on her hips, she began to lecture me:
I can’t believe this is all yours! It’s not fair ! And what’s more, you don’t even like it!… Come on the balcony. There is one of these views!
I don’t care about the view. To think that you made fun of me by making me believe that you weren’t talking!
She burst out laughing.
You’ll get over it!
She crossed the room, pulled aside the curtains and tried to open the French window. I looked her over from head to toe, and we started bickering again, as usual.
And first of all, where do you get these clothes from? You’re stealing my stuff, and now you’re wearing kitty things. I’d be surprised if mom bought all this for you.
She laughed harder.
You think I still need to ask Mom’s permission, when all I need to do is help myself from the big celestial cupboard. Free.
I opened my eyes wide. I told myself that she hadn’t fallen so badly after all.
It’s true ?
She nodded in response and beckoned me to come closer.
Come on, come admire this great view.
I obeyed. I got up, wiped my tears with the back of my sleeve and followed her onto the balcony. As I set foot on the terrace, I brushed past my little sister and was stunned by the landscape before me.
Do you find that funny?
I had before my eyes the exact replica of paradise in the frame
gold that she showed me at the hospital. I turned around but she was no longer there.
