She was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, her face creased like poorly folded linen. Her eyes gleamed with contained brightness, her clenched jaws betraying a anger she was trying to hide. She walked towards me, her heels clicking softly on the tiles. Each step echoed like a slap in the narrow silence of the bathroom.
— This group work is exhausting, isn't it? she threw out in a voice she wanted to sound light, but whose acidic edge did not escape me.
— Not really. We are just gathering our ideas on a small subject.
— Gathering ideas… Because everyone is forging a different opinion.
— Indeed. Get to the point.
She straightened up, a flash of jealousy crossing her pupils.
— You're very close to Prince lately. I've never seen you so close in first year.
Finally. She's talking about it. She's losing patience.
— He's the one who keeps sticking to me. And besides, is that a problem for you?
A brief silence fell. Her eyes widened, as if surprised by my retort. Her shoulders, stiff for a moment, slumped under the weight of her distress.
— Of course not… she said, forcing a smile, but her lips were trembling.
— On that note, I'll leave you to it.
I quickly wiped my hands and was about to go through the door when she called me abruptly, her voice vibrating with ill-contained tension:
— Baby! Is something going on between you two?
— Why this sudden interest in my relationships?
She took a step forward, her arms uncrossing, as if the truth obliged her to expose herself.
— You're together all the time. I've seen you get into his car more than once. He must surely drop you off after class… You're not going to make me believe it's just a friendship.
— Oh! So you watch us from afar? Doesn't the Student Union keep you busy enough for you to concentrate on futile student romances? Are you worried about me, Karen?
Her nostrils flared. Her gaze became harsher, as if I had just struck her a blow.
— Obviously! Don't you hear the rumors circulating about him?
— What are you talking about?
— That he only likes older women.
— I don't care about rumors. And if that's really the case, it's none of your business, don't you think?
— You're right… I regret having thought that way. It's not worthy of me.
She lowered her eyes for a moment, her fingers clenched on her forearms, then raised her head, a strained smile on her lips.
— No, what's not worthy of you is pretending.
— What are you talking about?
— This grotesque masquerade. Talk to him directly if you have something to say to him, instead of beating around the bush. Your incessant looks and your attempts to destabilize me in public don't help anything.
— I don't know what you're talking about… I just wanted to warn you. I consider you a friend.
— We are not, and you know it.
— Pardon?
— We have never been friends. We are simply classmates.
Her eyes blinked quickly, a sign that she was taking the slap badly. Her lips opened, trembling.
— This joke has lasted long enough, Baby. Who do you think you are to talk to me like that? I try my best, to understand, to help everyone. I am an honest person!
— You are a hypocrite.
Her breathing accelerated. A look of panic, mixed with anger, crossed her face.
— What did you say?
— You pretend to do good to appear irreproachable. In reality, you only see people based on what they can bring you. You haven't gotten over no longer shining like before. Your parents were rich, then your world collapsed. You can't lose your status and remain humble, can you?
She burst out in a bitter laugh, shaking her head slightly, as if she refused to be seen through. Her voice became shaky despite herself:
— You dare judge me, you who have never experienced this? I lived in a castle, I drove one of the most expensive cars in the country. All it took was a bad stock market investment by my father, and when he died we lost everything. Everything! My mother had to sell her possessions so that I could be here. Do you think I was going to end up at a public university? Never! Yes, I play the perfect girl, I smile so that people will accept me. But am I the only one wearing a mask? Is there no single human who doesn't hide their wounds before leaving home? And you, Baby, you showed Arith a different face to attract his attention. Do you think he would have looked at a plump girl? Yet, I was there before you, and despite everything, he chose you.
Her eyes were now shining with a feverish light, her voice oscillating between resentment and despair.
Ah, finally. The face I was waiting for: that of naked jealousy.
— Well, my dear, maybe he actually likes plump girls, with generous curves and round breasts… not little lemons.
I had never laughed so much in an argument. A genuine, liberating laugh, which made her face flush even more.
— You bitch! she spat out, her fists clenched, her shoulders shaking with rage.
— If you want to do good, do it because it brings you joy. But if it's to spit your venom, abstain, Karen. Even if Arith is the most idiotic boy I know, he doesn't deserve a girl like you. You would end up stabbing him in the back. You are materialistic on every level. Your ruined parents drove you crazy, and you can't accept it.
I turned to open the door, the cold metal of the handle contrasting with the heat of my anger. Before leaving, I threw in:
— And thank your mother for still giving in to your whims, spoiled princess.
I sighed with annoyance as I walked down the hallway, aiming to rejoin the others. I had the impression of having heard Karen burst into tears after our interaction. I hoped at least she would be able to question herself. Still… I could understand her. Grudges, jealousy, social shame… all of this can turn someone into a puppet of their own frustrations. And yes, we all wear masks… but there is a big difference between hiding your pain and using that mask to hurt others. True dignity is found neither in money nor in appearance, but in sincerity. She still hadn't understood that. Anyway, Karen remained a bitch.
I arrived at the library and saw Wesley telling the others that we were stopping for today. We said goodbye to each other before leaving. Karen still hadn't returned from the restroom.
I was really exhausted. This day had not been restful. It was barely 9 p.m. I looked at my phone, as if to check my messages. I ordered an Uber to quickly slip away. I especially wanted to avoid being disturbed by Prince's incessant chatter; he is so agitated that he drains all my energy.
For a brief moment, I almost dozed off, when my phone vibrated in the pocket of my sweater. I took it out and discovered an unknown number that had just messaged me:
— "Good evening."
I replied:
— "Good evening. Who are you?"
And then, he introduced himself: Yannish Zed. My heart skipped a beat despite myself. I remembered that in the morning, Prince kept asking me if we had finally made contact. He would be thrilled. I had already almost forgotten his existence. It had taken him time before he could reach me. He had probably argued with one of his conquests and had finally thought of me.
I rushed out of the Uber, entered my place, placed my bag on the living room coffee table and slumped onto the sofa before starting to respond to his messages.
— "Good evening Yannish Zed, delighted to make your acquaintance. My name is Baby Dang."
— "Yeah, I heard about you. I have to admit that I find it a little difficult to take your first name seriously."
— "Oh really? Why?"
— "Baby! It sounds like a nickname."
— "Not at all. But my loved ones call me Babe."
— "Oh, I see. Then I'll call you that too."
— "Why?"
— "Because we won't be long in getting close, you and me."
I replied with an amused sticker.
Well, I knew it: he was used to flirting like that.
He immediately replied with an emoji with hearts, proof of his ease and self-assurance.
— "So, how about we call each other?"
— "Is this sort of thing allowed?"
— "Yes, I'm on duty, but nothing prevents me from making a call. And besides… I want to hear your voice."
I rolled my eyes behind my phone. "Oh yeah, sure… just to hear my voice…" I thought, sarcastically, holding back a laugh. As if it weren't the old excuse of a womanizer trying to sound romantic. However, a shiver ran down my spine just imagining his voice, steady and calm, speaking to me through the handset. My heart was beating a little faster, and a gentle warmth settled in the pit of my stomach.
I deliberately let it ring for a few seconds, just to not appear too eager, then I picked up.
— Hello, Babe.
— Yes, hello, Yannish.
His voice crossed the phone line to reach me right in the heart: calm, assured, not very deep, but with a background of warmth that made my eardrums vibrate and made me hold my breath. A slight tingling sensation went up the back of my neck.
— So, are you having a good evening?
— Yes. And you?
— Well, I'm here, doing my shift in a colossal cold.
— Oh, sorry…
— No need, I'm used to it.
I could almost feel the bite of the icy wind on him, the slight puff of wind infiltrating the handset, and the distant echo of footsteps on the base's concrete. And yet, he was taking the time to call me. "Just to hear my voice…" I thought again, the hint of sarcasm sharper this time.
— Being in the military must not be easy.
— You don't say.
— I heard you're finishing your training soon, is that right?
— Yes… He sighed for a moment. I'm in my third year of aeronautical navigation.
— Never heard of it… What exactly do you deal with?
— Lots of things: trajectory calculations, military tactics, aerial mission planning… and lots of math.
— That can't be easy. My brain would already be boiling just hearing about mathematics.
— You don't like math?
— Not at all. I never got above a 2 in elementary school.
— Incredible! He burst out laughing, a deep but light sound, which made my arms shiver. But after all, I can't judge you. Not everyone can excel in the same field. It takes all kinds to make a world, Babe. He pronounced my nickname with a mark of tenderness that made me smile.
— Yes, you're absolutely right.
A silence set in, but it was charged with that electric tension: my hands slightly clenched on the handset, my short breath, and a tremor running through my skin with every word he pronounced. I was almost convinced that we were going to get along.
— Tell me, are you in a relationship right now? I suddenly asked.
— No. Otherwise I wouldn't even have contacted you. And besides, I want to apologize: I was busy, otherwise I would have written to you sooner.
— Naturally, I can understand that.
— Thank you. What about you?
— I'm single.
I smiled, pursing my lips. And then everything changed.
— I also noticed something: you have awesome curves… nice round breasts, a nicely rounded butt. Honestly, it makes me want you.
My breath caught, my heart was beating so hard that I could almost hear its pulsations through the handset. The pleasant warmth I had felt a few moments earlier turned into glacial embarrassment. I remained frozen, unable to know whether to laugh, change the subject, or be indignant.
— Uh… thank you… I finally said, my voice strangled, betraying my discomfort. Have you ever seen me? I continued, a little troubled.
— Prince sent me a photo of you. I think he did the same for me.
Of course, it could only be him.
He stopped for a brief moment and resumed: Hearing your voice, it seems like you're not used to people complimenting your body.
— Yes, but since we barely know each other and this is our first contact, it sounds rather strange.
— I'm a direct person, I say what I think. I like honesty, not pretense.
— Being direct and honest is not the same thing as being respectful. You could say the same thing with more tact.
The tone of my voice began to get harsher.
— I'm just saying what I think and what I see. And besides, I like women like you: with charm, butt, and breasts that stay nicely in place. He didn't seem to understand that he was making me uncomfortable: his voice remained relentless and steady, as if he wasn't at all disturbed by his remarks.
— Oh dear, it sounds like you're talking about merchandise.
— Merchandise? No. Let's be clear: can you date someone who is not attractive, without sex appeal or breathtaking beauty?
— I wouldn't say that. Everyone has their standards, but I wouldn't talk to a man as if that was the only thing that mattered. You might be handsome, but if you have a shitty character, you won't interest me more than that!
— You're exaggerating. I'm just paying compliments, I don't see what the problem is. He reiterated in a chaotic calm, that confusing contrast between his steady tone and his brutal remarks.
— The problem is that you reduce everything to that. I don't want to be labeled "pretty shape" before you even know who I am.
— Whoa there, Babe, calm down.
— I am calm.
— You seem completely angry, darling, he said, amused by the turn the conversation was taking. More than you! You have standards too. So, when it comes out of a man's mouth, to say: "I like this or that, I would like my future wife to have this or that," does it become an insult?
— No, it's not an insult. But what changes everything is the way you say it. You speak as if a woman's value is summed up in her body. You want standards? Fine. But know that mine start with respect.
— You see, that's what exhausts me: you want to give me lessons. He sighed, exasperated by my comments. I like natural women, who accept what I say without complicating things.
I widened my eyes, almost shocked by what I had just heard in my ear. And I replied with a calm and cutting tone.
— And I like men capable of measuring their words. Frankness without respect is worth nothing.
— That's the problem… you're not submissive enough. I want a woman who knows how to stay in her place, who accepts what I say without wanting to have the last word.
This time, my blood boiled. My breath became short. I had thought for a moment that we could understand each other, but I had just run into a wall of pride and misogyny.
— Submissive? You're dreaming! If for you being a woman means lowering your head and saying amen to everything, then you've come to the wrong address. I am not a doll, and I have no intention of living in anyone's shadow.
A heavy silence settled. We could almost hear our panting breaths, mingled through the handset, as if we were in a fierce fight.
— Well, you confirm what I thought: we're not going to get along. But hey… it was still a pleasure talking to you.
I didn't give him time to add a word: I hung up immediately, my heart pounding, between anger and relief. I was right to be wary of him. But then again: he was very misogynistic and disrespectful. How could Prince have put me in contact with a man like this?
I'll give that buffoon a piece of my mind.
I hurriedly got up from the sofa and headed to my bedroom to take a shower. Then, I immediately went out to the balcony, a cigarette between my lips. Between Karen and this Yannish, the day had really been tough…