Read Online Still With Me by Thierry Cohen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Thierry Cohen
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American Express and Visa cards, both in his name, as well as a wad of cash. He took the keys, went to the desk, and opened the drawer.
Several objects were arranged inside. He discovered a framed black-and-white photo, and emotion overwhelmed him. It was one of the rare photos from his childhood. He stood between his parents. Their expressions betrayed their pride and shyness about posing as a family. Jeremy was six years old at the time.
Why would he hide it there? It deserved a place in his living room or on his desk.
Jeremy also recognized the silver case containing the Book of Psalms that Victoria had given him. He picked it up apprehensively. The last time he’d held it in his hands, he had gone to sleep battling horrific sensations and strange visions. He opened the tarnished box, removed the book, and noticed that several pages had been brutally torn out. He checked the numbers of the missing psalms: thirty, seventy-seven, and ninety. Was he the one who had committed this act? He knew it wasn’t possible. Even if he’d never really observed religious law, he had a certain respect for sacred objects. And even if his attempt at suicide went against the essential laws of the religion he was born into, he was a believer, in his own way.
Jeremy also found a packet of letters tied with red ribbon. He took it off and slid the sheets of paper between his hands. They were written by Victoria. The first dated to May 14, 2001, a few days after his suicide attempt:
Jeremy,
My letter probably surprises you. After all, we spend a lot of time together, and I talk to you all the time (too much?). But faced with your silence, I only know how to be silly or discuss uninteresting topics. The situation is not trivial. I find myself watching over a man who wanted to die for me and who now won’t even speak to me. You only talk in your sleep. You say strange things. You talk passionately with invisible beings.
The doctors say you experienced a major psychological shock that you’ll come out of gradually.
So I wait.
Because you mean that much to me.
With you, I shared my first laughter, my first dreams. We were kids, and you accepted my ramblings, my princess fantasies. If we had known how to kiss, how to embrace, we would’ve done it. But at the time, it was enough just to pretend to be in love and hold hands. We were pure and true. And then I grew up. I wanted to find a new audience, more of a challenge. I distanced myself from you. I gave you a bit part. I knew you were in love with me, and that made me happy because I was thoughtless and only wanted to be wanted by others. I forgot about you. You were part of my childhood, and I didn’t want to be a child anymore. I wanted to be a woman who makes her own decisions about joy, love, and life. Because I loved life, Jeremy.
Madly.
Of course, today you might think your actions seduced me by being extreme—that you fed my pride once again with an act of love to end all others. But you’d be wrong. It was the intensity of your words that inspired me. I went to your place after your confession because you had said what I always wanted to hear. You didn’t care about the circumstances or consequences. You declared your love because you had to.
As if it was a question of life or death.
But I didn’t give you life, so you chose death. I didn’t find your act heroic. Quite the contrary; I found it ridiculous. Only life leads to love. I don’t understand why you did it. I’ll never understand. It was excessive, overdramatic. It scares me. You scare me. But not your love. Your love doesn’t scare me.
I want to be with you, to see you heal and smile.
You’re an important part of my life.
You woke me up. You took me out of my dream of life and brought me back to life itself.
All without a single kiss,
Victoria
Victoria’s words called many images to Jeremy’s mind: memories of childhood, of the years Jeremy spent hoping for Victoria’s love. For a few moments, Jeremy let
Several objects were arranged inside. He discovered a framed black-and-white photo, and emotion overwhelmed him. It was one of the rare photos from his childhood. He stood between his parents. Their expressions betrayed their pride and shyness about posing as a family. Jeremy was six years old at the time.
Why would he hide it there? It deserved a place in his living room or on his desk.
Jeremy also recognized the silver case containing the Book of Psalms that Victoria had given him. He picked it up apprehensively. The last time he’d held it in his hands, he had gone to sleep battling horrific sensations and strange visions. He opened the tarnished box, removed the book, and noticed that several pages had been brutally torn out. He checked the numbers of the missing psalms: thirty, seventy-seven, and ninety. Was he the one who had committed this act? He knew it wasn’t possible. Even if he’d never really observed religious law, he had a certain respect for sacred objects. And even if his attempt at suicide went against the essential laws of the religion he was born into, he was a believer, in his own way.
Jeremy also found a packet of letters tied with red ribbon. He took it off and slid the sheets of paper between his hands. They were written by Victoria. The first dated to May 14, 2001, a few days after his suicide attempt:
Jeremy,
My letter probably surprises you. After all, we spend a lot of time together, and I talk to you all the time (too much?). But faced with your silence, I only know how to be silly or discuss uninteresting topics. The situation is not trivial. I find myself watching over a man who wanted to die for me and who now won’t even speak to me. You only talk in your sleep. You say strange things. You talk passionately with invisible beings.
The doctors say you experienced a major psychological shock that you’ll come out of gradually.
So I wait.
Because you mean that much to me.
With you, I shared my first laughter, my first dreams. We were kids, and you accepted my ramblings, my princess fantasies. If we had known how to kiss, how to embrace, we would’ve done it. But at the time, it was enough just to pretend to be in love and hold hands. We were pure and true. And then I grew up. I wanted to find a new audience, more of a challenge. I distanced myself from you. I gave you a bit part. I knew you were in love with me, and that made me happy because I was thoughtless and only wanted to be wanted by others. I forgot about you. You were part of my childhood, and I didn’t want to be a child anymore. I wanted to be a woman who makes her own decisions about joy, love, and life. Because I loved life, Jeremy.
Madly.
Of course, today you might think your actions seduced me by being extreme—that you fed my pride once again with an act of love to end all others. But you’d be wrong. It was the intensity of your words that inspired me. I went to your place after your confession because you had said what I always wanted to hear. You didn’t care about the circumstances or consequences. You declared your love because you had to.
As if it was a question of life or death.
But I didn’t give you life, so you chose death. I didn’t find your act heroic. Quite the contrary; I found it ridiculous. Only life leads to love. I don’t understand why you did it. I’ll never understand. It was excessive, overdramatic. It scares me. You scare me. But not your love. Your love doesn’t scare me.
I want to be with you, to see you heal and smile.
You’re an important part of my life.
You woke me up. You took me out of my dream of life and brought me back to life itself.
All without a single kiss,
Victoria
Victoria’s words called many images to Jeremy’s mind: memories of childhood, of the years Jeremy spent hoping for Victoria’s love. For a few moments, Jeremy let
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