Rêveries

Chapter 65.

The last day before Charles had to leave for Singapore, he had a few errands to run while I was at practice. Elliòtt and I had another really fucking bad practice that we had to end early because of a fight about on what beat we're supposed to start a turn. He's the one who should be leading me so if I'm unsure, he's still supposed to make sure I know what I'm going to do — apparently he doesn't agree and that's 'lazy' from my side.

I'm pissed and I'm cursing under my breath when I'm just about to walk up the driveway to the house. Charles isn't back yet, which makes me even more disappointed.

"Bonjour," a small little voice brings me out of my thoughts. The young girl from next door is sitting on her knees on the sidewalk, drawing with street chalks. She's drawn a red car, a sun and a butterfly.

"Bonjour," I say back with a small smile, "De si jolis dessins," Such pretty drawings.

"Merci," Thank you, she says happily, "Voulez-vous dessiner avec moi? tu peux dessiner une ballerine," Do you want to draw with me? You can draw a ballerina.

The excited, small, happy look on her face made it impossible to say no and I was quickly on my knees next to her, drawing a ballerina while she drew a big boat. She told me some things about her school and it turns out she goes to the same school that Arthur, Charles and I went to when we were younger. She told me that her best friend lives in an apartment right above the track, so she had been there to watch the Grand Prix weekend from the balcony. I told her that Charles drives one of the cars and she told me she already knew that because her dad had told her.

Eventually her mom came out to check on her and when she saw me sitting with her daughter, she came up to greet me and I quickly dusted my hands off on my tights before shaking her hand.

"Je suis Céline, ravie de vous rencontrer," I'm Céline, nice to meet you, I told her with a smile.

"Marie. Pardon, Félicité aime beaucoup parler aux voisins," Marie, sorry, Félicité really likes to talk to the neighbors, she says, looking down at her daughter who is now putting her street chalk away. I smile and shake my head to show that it's not a problem.

"Maman, je peux lui montrer l'affiche dans ma chambre?" Mom, can I show her the poster in my room? she asks, grabbing onto her mother's wrist.

"Tu dois lui demander si elle veut voir ton affiche," You have to ask her if she wants to see your poster, Marie says as she glances at me.

"Voulez-vous voir mon affiche? Il y a des voitures dessus!" You want to see my poster? It has cars on it! Félicité says as she jumps up and down, making her little ponytail swing back and forth.

My first instinct is to say no, because her room might as well be my old room. The house I used to live in is now their house, with their stuff in it. But the look on her face is so sweet and I'm a bit curious to see how it looks now. So I nod, letting her take my hand and pull me with her towards the house, with her mom following right behind us.

As soon as we step a foot on the property I get this nostalgic feeling. Looking at the grass around the house, I think about all the times the same grass has left stains on our clothes that Pascale and my mother would curse for not being able to get rid of completely. Or when Jules would chase us around the house and Arthur and I had a hole in the hedge where we'd crawl through to the other side, which was the Leclerc's backyard and we'd hide under Lorenzo's bed because there was no way he'd look there of all places. He did.

She opened the door and there was just a tiny, tiny hint of that familiar smell the house had when we lived here. Maybe the smell is just that deep rooted into the walls. But it's gone as quickly as it came, and we step into the narrow hallway, the walls now decorated with pictures of another family, rather than of our family.