A Sketch by Jean-Pierre Martinez
They are sitting at a table, having coffee. An awkward silence.
Fred – I didn’t know he was ill… I mean… ill with his heart.
Max – Neither did I.
Fred – Of course. Otherwise, you’d have told me…
A pause.
Max – He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. Not even to his wife, apparently.
Fred – I’m not surprised. Vincent… he had a winning mentality. Everything always went his way.
Max – The biggest salary, the biggest car… The most beautiful wife…
Fred – What he liked was being admired. He wouldn’t have tolerated being pitied.
Max – But he’s still dead.
Fred – You can’t win every time.
Max – No… I’d even say that in the end, you’re bound to lose. Everyone. Even those with a… winning mentality.
A pause.
Fred – And you, how are you?
Max – I’m fine.
Fred – So you haven’t left the area.
Max – No. I haven’t even left the school, you know. I became a teacher there. I’ll probably stay until retirement. I must not have a winning mentality, as you say.
Fred – I was talking about Vincent. Still so touchy…
A pause.
Max – And you?
Fred – I’m fine.
Max – Still in real estate?
Fred – Still. But I’ve travelled quite a bit.
Max – To the United States?
Fred – The United States. Asia. Now I live in the South.
Max – The South of France?
Fred – Lyon.
Max – Married?
Fred – Married. And divorced. And you?
Max – Divorced. And remarried.
A pause.
Fred – How long has it been since we’ve seen each other?
Max – I don’t know… A long time.
Fred – It’s a shame.
Max – Mmm…
Fred – We were very close, after all. We were friends.
Max – Yes.
Fred – We still are, aren’t we?
Max – Of course…
Fred – But we don’t see each other anymore.
Max – You said it, you live in the South.
Fred – Lyon isn’t the end of the world.
Max – No. It’s not really the South, either.
Fred – I don’t know. Where does the South start?
Max – Exactly, I don’t know. I’d say Montélimar.
Fred – But Lyon isn’t the North. It’s not the Centre, either. The East?
Max – Not really.
Fred – Not the West, anyway.
Max – Lyon is a challenge to all geographers, myself included. It’s not a location, it’s a destination. Proof: Gare de Lyon is in Paris.
Fred – You’re right. Lyon is in the middle of nowhere. You arrive by motorway, and you cross it through a tunnel. That’s probably why I live there. I’ve always had trouble settling down somewhere…
Max – I’ve never managed to move, you see. That’s probably why I became a geography teacher. To travel without leaving home.
A pause.
Fred – April 13th, 2010.
Max – Sorry?
Fred – The last time we saw each other was April 13th, 2010.
Max – What a memory…
Fred – It was Vincent’s birthday. He’d organised a big party at his country house in Normandy.
Max – Ah yes, maybe. Anyway, it wasn’t at his wedding. You weren’t there.
Fred – I was far away… In San Francisco, I think. I couldn’t make the trip… Is that a criticism?
Max – No. Just an observation.
Fred – I’ve never really liked ceremonies.
Max – But you still came to his funeral.
Fred – Yes… (Pause) What happened that night that meant we never saw each other again?
Max – We’re seeing each other today.
Fred – Yes… More than ten years later. And it took Vincent’s death…
Max – We didn’t see each other much before that party in Normandy, did we? That’s life. We took different paths. Our paths didn’t cross anymore…
A pause.
Fred – So you’ve never forgiven me?
Max – Forgiven you for what?
Fred – You know very well.
Max – I assure you, I don’t.
Fred – And you’ll never forgive me.
Max – Forgive you for what?
Fred – For being with Cecilia! On Vincent’s birthday.
Max – Why would I hold that against you?
Fred – Because you were in love with her, I imagine.
Max – Nonsense.
Fred – Weren’t you in love with her?
Max – Maybe a little…
Fred – You had always been in love with her. I show up that night, I hadn’t seen her for… and she falls into my arms.
Max – I wasn’t dating her. It’s not like she cheated on me with my best friend.
Fred – So you remember. And you held it against me.
Max – Yes.
Fred – It was she who came to me.
Max – Of course. And you let it happen, as usual.
Fred – I never saw her again after that. And she didn’t try to see me again.
Max – Why are you telling me this? Is it less serious if it was just a one-night stand?
Fred – In the end, a few months later, she was dating Vincent. And you never held it against him.
Max – Well, he married her.
A pause.
Fred – Did you continue to see them?
Max – Yes. Occasionally. The town isn’t very big, you know.
Fred – But we don’t see each other anymore.
Max – It’s complicated to stay friends with someone who lives five hundred miles away, but it’s even more complicated to stay angry with a mate who lives right across the street.
A pause.
Fred – So I’m the bad guy, is that it?
Max – I didn’t say that.
Fred – Will you come to my funeral, at least?
Max – You’re talking nonsense. And I might die before you do.
Fred – I was drunk that night. Like everyone else. She came on to me. I let it happen, as you say. She wanted to hook up with someone. I don’t know why, but I was the one she chose.
Max – Because she knew it didn’t matter to you, probably. That you wouldn’t even try to see her again afterwards.
Fred – Probably, yes.
Max – That’s probably why all the girls fall into your arms.
Fred – Yes. And why I can’t keep any of them.
Max – It’s true, I was jealous. Jealous of your success. I’m the one you could marry. So I scare them off. I envied your lightness…
Fred – And I envied your rigour.
Max – You mean my rigidity, I suppose.
Fred – I thought you’d do something with your life. I mean, something meaningful.
Max – But in the end, we haven’t done anything important, you see. Neither of us.
Fred – Anyway, none of us three became a rock star, like we all dreamed back then when we were touring the local halls with that band…
Max – The Rebels…
A pause.
Fred – So that’s it… It’s because of Cecilia…
Max – No.
Fred – Don’t tell me it’s because of that last gig we did together? And I completely messed up because a string was missing from my guitar…
Max – Do you really think it’s because of a girl, Fred? Or a broken string? That if I forgave you, we’d be friends again, like we were years ago?
Fred – I don’t know.
Max – It’s true, if you’d played a bit better at that gig, we might have done a few more. But I’m not stupid. I know that band wasn’t meant to last. We’d never have become professional musicians. As for becoming famous…
Fred – So why?
Max – You don’t understand, Fred. We’re not angry with each other. We just lost touch, that’s all. And in a way, that’s much worse. Out of sight, out of mind, you know the saying? We don’t do anything together anymore. We have nothing left to share. That’s why we’re not really friends anymore. Friendship doesn’t die on a specific day. Like Vincent. We drift apart gradually. And we don’t see each other again, because when we do, it reminds us of our youth. All the promises we made to each other, all the promises we made to ourselves, that we didn’t keep.
Fred – So what is friendship, in your opinion?
Max – I don’t know… It’s when someone’s opinion matters to you. When you have a laugh together. When you have shared plans. What are our plans? To have another coffee together in a year or ten years, at another funeral? We don’t have any dreams in common anymore, Fred. And I’m not sure I still have any dreams. When we meet, we only talk about the good old days. That’s why we don’t see each other anymore. Because it depresses me. Doesn’t it you?
Fred – I’m sorry…
Max – Sorry for what?
Fred – For not being there. For deserting. Deserting our friendship.
Max – You’re not to blame. Neither am I. That’s life. What projects could we still have together?
Fred – I don’t know.
Max – Back then, we dreamed of recording an album in England. Of doing a gig at the Golf Drouot.
Fred – Well, I’ve almost fulfilled my dream, then. I play every Saturday at the golf course. With my work colleagues.
Max – Sorry, I don’t know how to play golf, and I’m not sure I want to take it up.
A pause.
Fred – Anyway, the Golf Drouot, even in our time, was already gone.
Max – Well, you see, even back then, we were already has-beens.
Fred – We could take up hiking… With walking sticks, you know? It’s more our age than rock music, isn’t it?
Max – You live in Lyon, and I’m in the Paris suburbs.
Fred – We could hike near Dijon. Each of us could do half the journey. Now, with the TGV…
Max – Even when we lived just two streets away from each other, we had already drifted apart. And when you left… I don’t blame you, of course. You had new things to experience. I did too, actually. They weren’t the same…
Fred – And then, we needed to find a real job to make a living. We can’t stay stuck on impossible dreams forever. You’re right. Even back then, we knew we’d never become stars…
Max – Anyway, now we’re sure.
Fred – And is that why, in your opinion, we’re not friends anymore? Because we couldn’t fulfil our teenage dreams?
Max – No. Not just because of that. We could have found other dreams. We could have even laughed together about our failures.
Fred – So why?
Max – When we were really friends, we saw each other every day, we even lived together for a while, we went on holiday together.
Fred – It sounds like you’re talking about an old couple.
Max – It was a bit like that, wasn’t it? Without the sex. Don’t worry, it never tempted me. But yes. Love, friendship… It’s quite similar. And it doesn’t handle reheated stuff well.
Fred – And then you got married. So did I…
Max – Our wives became our best friends. With the added sex. And even after they leave us, our wives often remain our most faithful friends. We were friends because we didn’t have wives, Fred. Friendship is a single person’s thing.
Fred – So we won’t see each other again.
Max – I don’t know. Sometimes it’s even sadder to see each other than to not see each other.
Fred – And you don’t have any friends anymore?
Max – Sharing a barbecue once a month and a holiday rental once a year, is that really being friends?
Fred – So what do we do?
Max – I didn’t say it was your fault. I just want to make peace with myself, you understand? The self I used to be friends with.
Fred – What if we started a rock band again?
Max – That would be pathetic…
A pause.
Fred – Are you sure all that really happened?
Max – What?
Fred – What you’re describing. Our friendship, the way you were talking about it earlier.
Max – I don’t know. Doesn’t it?
Fred – We were constantly jealous of each other. We were ready for any betrayal just to be in the spotlight, just to have a girl, even if it meant stealing her from your best mate. In fact, we hated each other.
Max – Yes… But we had a lot of laughs. And at least we were alive. How long has it been since you really laughed?
Fred – A long time, I think. As long as you, I imagine.
Max – Exactly. We don’t laugh together anymore. And I’m not sure we laugh much in general. What’s called laughing, you know? Until you get a bellyache. Do you remember our laughs? Maybe that’s what friendship is. That’s our lost paradise. Laughter…
A pause.
Fred – I’m going to move back to Paris.
Max – Not because of our conversation, I hope?
Fred – I’d been thinking about it for a while. Because Lyon, between us…
Max – It’s up to you…
Fred – We could always go hiking in the Bois de Vincennes…
Max – It’s tempting. I’ll think about it.
Fred – I have to go. My train is in fifteen minutes.
Max – OK. You have my number.
They stand up, hesitate, and share a warm embrace. Fred is about to leave.
Fred – By the way, for my move… can I count on you?
Max – Friends are made for that, aren’t they?
Black.
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A sketch from the collection The Rebels
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)
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