Can I come closer without risking anything?
…
Okay, still going on then… Look, the slap—fine, I can deal with that. But I'd like to understand. And I'm not leaving until you talk to me and explain why you slapped me.
…
I'm waiting.
…
This can last a long time, you know.
And in your opinion, why did I slap you?
She's talking—thank you, universe, we can move forward.
Stop messing with me, please. I don't have much strength right now.
Not much strength? Sorry, that's not what I felt yesterday! Now talk, damn it—say it, let it out once and for all. I'm the one getting trashed here, and I'm still the one coming back to you—doesn't that count for anything to you?
You're the one getting trashed? Where the hell does that come from? What are your big tragedies on the beach—did they run out of your favorite cocktail?
Oh, very funny. So that's the problem? I leave for a few days and it's the end of the world? Everything was supposed to stop because the Princess was sick?
That's a disgusting thing to say—and completely unfair. It's not the fact that you left that's the problem. Peter stayed by my side, you know. He didn't leave right after dropping me at the hospital. Like, "Okay, they'll take care of her, I can bail with my buddies." Were you going to lose your train tickets or what? You couldn't postpone your departure?
Are you kidding me? You accuse me of everything that happens to you and you expect me to keep coming to your bedside? After everything you threw at me? I'm not stupid either.
What are you even talking about? I never accused you of anything—I'd remember that.
Do you want me to show you our text exchange? Might jog your memory.
Our texts? What are you talking about? You never answered my calls.
My calls? You blocked my number! Hold on—I'll show you the sweet little messages you sent me.
Yeah, go ahead, since you're playing the martyr. Show me what I supposedly wrote you—when I was totally out of it.
Here. Read. I know them by heart by now, I've gone over them a thousand times this past week.
…
So? Ring any bells? You're a lot less cocky now.
Marc…
So excuse me for wanting to put some distance between us to process all that. Because I don't think I deserved that either. Especially after the rape accusations.
Rape? What are you talking about? Marc, I never wrote that. I never talked about rape. I don't understand anything.
Yeah, sure. Easy to say.
Marc, listen to me. Please. Now that I'm talking.
Because you've got an explanation for this, maybe? I'm sick of these back-and-forths between us—come here, stay with me, get lost, I don't want to see you anymore.
Marc…Marc…please, sit down. Let's start over calmly, please. Okay?
I don't know… I probably shouldn't have come. This is useless. I came back as soon as I heard you were out of the hospital, but it was a mistake again. I'm just going to take it full force once more and I can't handle it anymore—it hurts too much, Cathy.
Marc—that's exactly it. Something doesn't add up, and we need to clear it up. Please. Listen. I suggest I give you my version of what happened, okay? You let me talk without interrupting, then you'll give me yours. Does that work for you?
I'll probably regret this—but okay. Go ahead.
******************
So, the last time I talked to you and saw you was at the hospital, when you came to help me fall asleep. It worked—I slept. And when I woke up, you weren't there anymore. But you'd told me we were only allowed thirty minutes, so I didn't worry. I thought you'd come back in the afternoon, but then nothing. No news. I waited for you, I tried calling you several times—you didn't answer any of my calls. And then I find out you left on vacation with your friends. I didn't understand why you didn't tell me. I can't blame you for going away with your friends—it's just the way it happened that hurt me. I have a right to be surprised, don't I?
Surprised? Are you kidding me? You want to know why I didn't come back to the hospital earlier? You really want to know why I didn't come back the next day?
Yes. Yes, I want to know everything. Because right now, I feel like things were hidden from me. I was out of it, sure—but not to the point of writing texts and not remembering them.
I handed you over to your dad when we got out of the forest. You asked me to come with you, but I had to take the horses back to the center.
That, I remember. It's blurry, but I remember. You were holding me tight against you on the horse so I wouldn't fall.
I got home, I was soaked. So I took a hot shower, changed clothes, and I was about to head back to the hospital when your mom called mine and told her I wasn't supposed to come.
But why would she do that? She never told me anything.
Because your boyfriend accused me of rape. That's why no one was giving you news about me, and why I came secretly at night.
Rape? No. He wouldn't do that. That's impossible.
You're still defending him? Then ask your mom—she'll confirm it.
But why would he think you could've… raped me? Coming from him…
Because you were only wearing your shirt. Your jeans hadn't dried at all, so I preferred to bring you back quickly instead of wasting time putting wet clothes back on you.
That's a bit thin as a reason for such serious accusations.
Yeah—but that bastard dared. Sorry, I'm done sugarcoating things about him.
So my mom didn't want you to come because she believed it?
No, thankfully. But she was probably afraid I'd smash his face in if I saw him. And then—do you remember?
Yes. I fell asleep with you, and I was waiting for you the next day.
And I did come the next day. But you'd just found out you were going to fail your exams, and that's right after that text exchange happened.
Accused of rape? Failing exams? What are you talking about? This is insane. I feel like I'm waking up from a long coma—it's not possible. I don't understand anything you're saying. And I didn't write those texts. I've never seen them.
I'm accused of rape, of making you lose your year. You trash me—and now you dare tell me you remember nothing? That's a bit convenient, don't you think?
Marc, I need to sit down… everything's spinning…
Cathy, sit here—here, drink a bit. Do you want me to call your mom?
No, it'll pass. Marc, I swear—I don't understand anything. What happened?
"It'll pass"? You feel a bit warm, actually. I'm going to let you rest—we'll talk later.
No. No, I want to know now. I want us to clear up this awful mess right now, please. Yes, my head started spinning like I'd been drinking and my legs were shaking—but it's passing.
Lie down for five minutes. I'll make you some tea, and then we'll continue.
*******************
Feeling better ?
Yeah, I've calmed down. Okay, I'll start again from the beginning, it'll be easier. So… where do I start? … Right. We talked, and you told me how you felt. That shook me up quite a bit and made me think. At the same time, I started coughing, I wasn't feeling great all week—slightly feverish, coughing, sore throat—but I had work, so I didn't really pay attention to it. So I went back home on Friday, just to get away from everything and rest a bit. And on Saturday, I felt like going to see the girls at the riding center. In the end, I went out riding. After about an hour, it started raining—harder and harder. Then there was a really loud thunderclap, very close to us. My horse panicked and I fell. After that, it's kind of blurry. I hear your voice from far away, I'm cold, I hurt.
That's when I found you and carried you.
Then I remember the cabin. We went there, I was freezing. You made a fire, you held me in your arms so I could sleep and warm up. After that, Dad came to get me, but you didn't come. Stephane was at the house, we left together for the hospital. I was completely out of it, still freezing.
That's normal, you had a really high fever.
Then they took me in, ran tests, asked questions, looked me over from head to toe. They put me on a drip and I ended up in a room. My parents were there, Stephane too—they were all talking a lot and really loud. I didn't understand everything, it was all happening too fast. They kept repeating the same things and I was just exhausted. I called you, but you didn't come. They didn't tell me where you were. After that, they finally all left. It was quieter, but I was in pain. I think I was sleeping and waking up all the time. I was alone in that room. And then you finally arrived, and I fell asleep properly in your arms. When I woke up, you weren't there anymore, so I even wondered if I'd dreamed it or mixed it up with my memories of the cabin.
And then… the next day, what happened? That's where it glitches.
I had more tests on my lungs. They told me it was a pretty bad pneumonia, that I was lucky with the fall—it could've been serious, and even worse if you hadn't found me and put me under shelter right away. They also told me you'd left during the night, that they'd actually let you stay longer than the twenty minutes.
Yeah, I woke up around five, probably when the shift changed, and I left quietly. I was afraid of getting yelled at.
And that's it. Stephane came to see me with my mom. They came every day. I told them I couldn't reach you—that's when I learned you'd left… without telling me anything. That really hurt me. I was angry and disappointed. I didn't understand how we could go from being that close to nothing at all, just like that.
Stick to what happened—I'll give you my version after. I'm starting to understand a bit.
Well that's it. I stayed four days, and when they saw that my condition was stable and I was getting some color back, they sent me home. Oh! Big news—you'll be happy: I broke up with Stephane.
Wow. Yeah, that is a good point. I'm glad. So you're not repeating the year?
Repeating what?
Okay… never mind. My turn now.
Yeah, I'd really like to understand too.
Talking to you messed me up quite a bit as well, so I spent the week pretty out of it. Not long after I got to my parents' place, your mom showed up panicking because you hadn't come back. I decided to go look for you, and after an hour that felt horribly long, I found you.
Okay, the rest I know. It's just that rape thing I don't understand.
When they asked you why you didn't have any clothes on, you said I'd undressed you so I could sleep with you.
Yeah, that's true, I remember saying that.
Yeah, but admit that out of context, it sounds bad. Even if the guy means well, I'd basically stripped you, I was almost naked too, and then we slept together in a tiny little bed.
Shit… yeah, when you put it like that. How stupid of me. Marc, I'm really sorry.
Your mom called back afterward to explain that they'd kicked everyone out of your room so you could rest, and that's when I decided to try my luck.
Funny how they didn't brag about that part.
So I came to the hospital. The nurse stopped me because you absolutely had to sleep, but apparently I made such a scene that the head nurse stepped in. And when I told her my name, I thought she was going to kiss me out of relief. You know the rest.
Okay. Up to now, there's no reason for a blow-up.
I did wake up when I heard noise in the hallway, so in the end they let me sleep almost the whole night with you. I preferred to leave without making a sound. You looked calm and peaceful, so I figured I'd come back around noon.
But you changed your mind in the meantime…
No, not at all—I did come! I ran into Stephane downstairs. I almost smashed his face in again… but he gave me this whole speech about how we both cared about you and that, in your best interest, we needed to act together. And most importantly, he warned me not to come see you at least that day, because you'd just found out your lungs were worse than expected, so you'd have to stay longer in the hospital—which would make you miss your make-or-break exams for validating your year.
That's complete bullshit. I don't have exams—certainly not eliminatory ones.
I should've known… Wait, it's not over. He added that you were furious at me because you thought that if I'd brought you back as soon as I found you, your condition wouldn't have gotten worse. Hence the need for me to disappear for a while.
Oh damn… that bastard. I'm starting to get it now.
So I let the day pass like a good obedient puppy, and the next day I sent you a text asking if I could come by to talk. And you've just read the answers you supposedly sent me.
Or didn't send, actually. It was him—I get it now. Look, your number is blocked.
What?
Stephane. It was him who wrote those messages. I didn't have my phone at the hospital. And then he blocked your number so I couldn't call you or receive your calls.
But how did he get your phone?
I don't really know, but I know he brought it back to me two days after I arrived—supposedly he'd taken it so it wouldn't get stolen and to charge it. And since I was completely out of it, I couldn't really use it… but thinking about it now, it had to be him.
And then, as if by happy coincidence, Ben called me and offered to go away with him, so I jumped at the chance because I was really not doing well.
Yeah, I understand better now. I'm sorry about the slap then—I really thought you'd ditched me at the hospital and had better things to do.
Let this be a lesson to us. We can argue, sure—but face to face. Directly.