Quiet night at Wallace's, turned out he hadn't heard yet.
"You're leaving when? But I leave on vacation next week... This is the last time I'm going to see you."
I watched his face fall for miles, desperately lookiong for a linux joke to play Wile E COyote Acme breakfall with.
He burned copies of divx versions of some of my favourite french movies to take home with me, took pictures of Cristal and I tangled up on the couch together, we spent the night crying into each others' chests, her hand twisting in my curls, mine clutched tightly about her waist.
"You're leaving when? Well, I need to give a month's notice for rent, and my roommate's out in September anyway... You sure you don't want to be my roommate and stay here?"
I had a hard time saying no, but when I managed to choke it out she simply said "well, it would take me about a month or so to join you."
And then we were crying again.
No alcohol, the music stopped playing hours ago, nobody noticed.
And so it begins... I have no idea when my flight leaves, no idea how I'm going to get my appartment inspection organized, tomorrow is my last singing lesson ever and then tomorrow night is up in the air and the day after that is so far away.
Standing on Wallace's balcony, staring at the skyline. Re-memorizing every trick and fall of it, the way I memorized Montreal from the roof of my appartment, the way I memorized Lyon from the top of the school and from the top of Fourvieres on the back of a motorcycle. The way I memorized the desert in Israel from the top of a dune.
The way I will soon memorize Toronto.
I am collecting skylines, and tears and beautiful stories, and... Something else.
Something I can't put my finger on right now, after singing in the back cage of Seb's Kangoo with Cristal, La Vie en Rose and Milord and anything else we could think of.
At some point Cristal ran out of lyrics and I carried on a verse alone.
I nearly had a relapse when Seb announced "holy shit those singing lessons made a difference..."
Instead I buried my head in Cristal's belly and she sang me a lullaby, stroking my hair.
And now I'm off to cry into my satin nuisette, into my pillow, into the room that I will soon have to figure out how to empty...
I'm leaving so much of it behind, the bed and couch and tables and dishes, the pots and pans already spoken for, the crystal vase might come with me but so little else
I won't remember much of it.
Only the balconies and flowershops and Wallace with his infernal digital camera, and the way Cristal's lips paled, and both our hands began to shake.
We stood outside, in the first cold air in days, and shivered together, saying nothing for a long, long time.
At least I have a heart, so that it may ache.