"It was the school year of 1979-1980 in a small town in Normandy. I was waiting for the bus to go to school, when a beautiful white Alpine Renault pulled up in front of the stop and caught my eye. But it's the girl getting out that my gaze was drawn to. At that moment, I said to myself that one day I would talk to her. Every morning, I hoped to see her show up, but sometimes I didn't see her. We took the same bus, but not all the time. Christine had style. Dark-haired, curly, pretty. She had a look, a free, attractive walk, like people who don't expect anything from anyone. She walked with her face to the wind, her head held high. She looked left and right but didn't see me. She'll have to look at me anyway, see me, because I liked her.
When I approached her, she was quite friendly, but we were just making small talk. I could see that she thought I was a young kid. We were both 16, but I looked younger. On my license photo, I barely had a bit of fuzz. But when I told her I had a motorcycle, I instantly changed status in her eyes. It must be the symbol of escape and freedom that appealed to her. And it worked, because we ended up going out together. She read philosophy and psychology books whose titles I didn't understand, but I was interested. She was well-read, intelligent and fascinating to me. She was the first person I ever had sex with. We smoked cigarettes in my room. I'm in love with her. Her independence, her fearlessness, her self-reliance... I love the person she is. She's much more like William the Conqueror than me.
At the end of the school year, she said to me: "Look Guillaume, next year I'm going to university 50 kilometers away. We won't see each other very often, I'm going to meet so many people, we can't continue together...." I was about to start 11th grade. I tried to get her to stay, but I soon realized I had no choice. In relationships, when you disagree, it's always "no" that prevails, never "yes." It was frank and honest on her part, but it made me miserable.
We kept in touch anyway. We called each other and ran into each other at parties. As soon as I got my car, I drove up to see her in her student apartment. I met her dates and surprised myself by not being jealous. I even got on well with some of them. All my friends told me I was in love with her, but I was at a loss for words. What I feel for Christine is unique, and I didn't want to lose her, even if it hurt me to see her flutter around, as I felt her slipping away from me. When we were both single, we had little fleeting moments of happiness together, rare and delicious. But then, Christine always left, like a wildcat.
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