Vincent and Fred are sitting at a table, having a coffee.
Vincent – Brilliant… So you’re leaving in three weeks?
Fred – May 1st, yes. On Labour Day, I’m off on holiday for a year. Or more, we’ll see…
Vincent – It won’t be quite a holiday, will it?
Fred – When I need cash, I’ll work a bit as a cook or a waiter. It’s really easy there. There’s work for everyone. And the French are highly regarded. Especially in hospitality. Not to mention the women, of course…
Vincent – The myth of the French lover… Lucky you… You’re going to have a blast.
Fred – You should come with me.
Vincent – I can’t, unfortunately. I’m starting my internship in September at a bank in Paris. And if I don’t want to spend three hours commuting every day, I need to work this summer to pay for a small flat.
Fred – Oh right.
Vincent – It’s definitely less glamorous.
Fred – For sure…
Vincent – Have you talked to Max about it?
Fred – Yeah. I saw him yesterday.
Vincent – How’s he doing?
Fred – You know him… With Max, things are never really okay.
Vincent – He’s taking his exam in two months to become a teacher; he’s a bit on edge.
Fred – We hardly see each other anymore.
Vincent – He’s working a lot, I think.
Fred – Or maybe he’s upset with me. I don’t know why.
Vincent – I think he’s annoyed with both of us for quitting the band. And now you’re leaving. So The Rebels are done?
Fred – They were already finished, weren’t they?
Vincent – We have to face it; we’d never have become stars.
Fred – Not rock stars, at any rate…
Vincent – Anyway, I sold my drum kit to pay for the deposit on my flat.
Fred – And I sold my guitar to buy my plane ticket.
A pause.
Vincent – The Rebels, what a crappy name. I don’t remember who came up with it back then.
Fred – That was me.
Vincent – Oh yeah, that’s right…
Fred – When I was boarding school, in this catholic institution, it was like a real prison. We could only leave the school grounds on weekends. And even then, only if we hadn’t been punished. And of course, it wasn’t co-ed.
Vincent – Oh bloody hell…
Fred – Can you imagine? At an age when all you’re thinking about is losing your virginity, spending the whole week with just guys, day and night. I don’t know how I didn’t end up gay.
Vincent – And didn’t you try to escape?
Fred – One day, I organised a strike to protest our detention conditions. Everyone seemed up for it. But in the end, out of four hundred students, only three of us refused to go back to class.
Vincent – The Rebels…
Fred – There was a guy in my class who claimed to be a communist. The very diligent type, you know, but very politically committed. I asked him why he wouldn’t join our protest movement. Do you know what he said?
Vincent – No.
Fred – He said: It’s a rebellion, not a revolution…
Vincent – Oh right…
Fred – I don’t know where he stands now with his revolution. I’m just trying to stay a rebel.
Vincent – And how did your rebellion end?
Fred – I hoped to get expelled, but no. Not at all. We got detention for four consecutive weekends.
Vincent – Oh yes, I remember. We didn’t see you for a good while.
Fred – I swore to myself that after my A-levels, I wouldn’t let anyone lock me up anywhere again. Especially not in an office…
Vincent – Yeah.
Fred – Aren’t you freaked out about the prospect of spending your life in a bank?
Vincent – What can I do… I’m not as good-looking as you. If I want to meet women, I can’t rely just on my looks. So I need to make a lot of money…
Fred – I’m going to enjoy it while I’m still young and good-looking, then… After that… I’ll bet everything on humour.
Silence.
Vincent – Will you still come to Normandy for my birthday? It’s in fifteen days.
Fred – Of course.
Silence.
Vincent – Are you sure you’re okay?
Fred – Perfectly fine.
Vincent – It’s what you wanted, right? To leave here. To see the world.
Fred – Yeah… In three weeks, it’s America for me! I’ll send you postcards, I promise.
Vincent – And then we’ll see each other again.
Fred – Of course…
They exchange a look that says it all.
Black.

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A sketch from the collection The Rebels
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