5
The man grinned, then he looked at me
strangely as if he seemed to be noticing
me for the first time. I was beginning
to feel uncomfortable, so I said briskly:
"You are not getting a mat?"
"No, we're cool, sis. Thanks!"
"I'll be right back."
"Great!"
While I was walking towards the front
desk, she continued to carry on a few
more words with him, I pondered about
the strange ways sometimes Sophie had
to push people away; the "date" event
was not unusual in Sophie. It was cute though.
When I came back, she dropped the bag at my feet, looking for the keys for the
locker inside my jacket. Then she combed her delicate golden red locks in a bun
before locking things away. She looked very detached as she declared, a little witty:
"Men are so much good looking here. It pays off to be athletic." She added over her
shoulder: "Too bad they are not great lovers… Au revoir, sister".
I felt a little upset; I knew this was not she. She could be sometimes out of control, but
she was not saucy. I almost cried after her: "And lucky you: they are unabashed!" I
was not ready to rescue her. She had actually never been choosy as far as striking
friendships was concerned. As long as she had fun… well… She never really had time
to build foundations. She was like a desert plant, taking root wherever she was thrown,
but soon she would withdraw for lack of water; her soul was thirsty. I think she always
was disappointed in people. She expected too much too soon. Especially here, people
did not let go easily and Sophie's love was so demanding! So, she would shed a tear
on my shoulder, would declare: "Bah! No attachment, no worries," then headed back
to the same direction over and over again. The result was that day by day sadness had
deposited over her heart. The weight of that sadness dropped on the edge of her
eyelashes, making them droop slightly over the iris like a quivering curtain.
6
I often felt sorry for her. I thought she
was lonelier than the loneliest person in
the world because nobody could fill up
her heart completely. I had tried to
explain her many a time:
"Sophie, the type of friends you
have, make you what you are. Don't
you think you should choose them
more carefully?"
She would say: "I know," but she was
drowned by a drug stronger than she
was: loneliness.
What escaped her was that, meanwhile,
she was exhausting her soul, the beauty
of her soul. She was still like a rough
diamond that did not have yet great
value. But she could still choose to
polish herself, make everything count.
I knew she had potential. I sighed. I
settled against a wall, lacing my shoes,
thinking. How did I love my sister,
though! I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the windowpane. Behind, Sophie was
already working out. Her long strides gave the impression that she could fly away any
minute, soon out of reach. The muscles on her thighs vibrated under the impact of her
walking. She had a way of casting her shoulders back while her hips rolled gently over
her legs that looked very natural. I had rarely observed somebody who could walk that
nicely before; most people did not know how to walk well as if walking was
uncomfortable for them. A friend said hello to me. I said hello back to her, waving
the tip of my fingers in the air. Most of the friends I had I had met here, here of all
places where it was not easy to meet with people. Most people seemed to come here,
not to have fun, but to shed a pound or two.
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