RENAISSANCE

24. Warm rain

On the bus, the streets passed by behind the window, and as it moved forward, the roads became more and more familiar to me. The dilapidated houses gradually rose up before me.

With a knot in my stomach, I couldn't help but feel an oppressive apprehension at the idea of returning to this place where the shadows of the past seemed to await my return.

When I got off the transport, the doors closed behind me, and there I was with no escape route to Vinegar Hill. But I wanted to see Anne again enough to have the courage to come back here.

The same beggars waited on the same street corners, the same children still played on the same sidewalks. Everything here remained frozen, nothing had changed, although I had only left the place a few months ago. And yet I felt so foreign to this place now.

My gaze remained stuck on this dark street that led to my old apartment, the one I would never set foot in again from now on. Yeah, by leaving this place I had condemned my daily life to stay here, never to follow me again.

It's funny when I think about it, I who had lost hope in leaving my gloomy lifestyle, who thought I was imprisoned in this neighborhood forever.

I hated this place. From its people who had humiliated me over the years, from this Mexican who made me work like a slave, from its buildings which made my life even more depressing, to this empty studio.

This studio which had nevertheless seen me starve, which had seen me cry all the tears in my body, which had seen me get drunk until I vomited, which had seen me hesitate between dying or living.

This studio that had witnessed my meeting with this fucking mercenary. Who had witnessed our first confrontation. At the turning point of my life.

I left everything behind me.

My life had changed overnight. Absolutely. I still sometimes wondered if it was all real. At times I even felt good.

With Suzan, with Mike, I tasted again the moments of happiness, ephemeral but real remedy for my bruised heart. I wouldn't see them again once everything was over, but that's okay, for now I wanted to heal without thinking about the future or the consequences of this attachment.

My new job fulfilled me, and not paying rent allowed me to put a large part of my salary aside. When all this shit is over, I can start my life from scratch.

A more decent life.

Coming back here gave me that determination. Coming back here made me want to succeed.

I wanted to.

And so I looked away to go one last time to that damn convenience store.

As I walked through the door, a young woman was standing behind the cash register.

"Um, excuse me?" I said to get his attention.

She raised her head from her cell phone and looked at me questioningly.

"Anne is not here?"

"Anne?" she repeated as if incomprehension.

"An old lady who worked here," I added.

"Oh, she died."

Everything inside me froze in that moment. The words echoed in the void, like an inescapable sentence.

Memories began to flash before my eyes, a silent film of shared moments. And I hated my brain for putting me through this now, in this moment. Why was it always like this when someone died? I didn't want to think about all that again. It was ridiculous.

"She left you a note," said the young girl's voice, bringing me back to reality.

I looked at her, not understanding what she was talking about.