was Sunday, Halloween night. I was alone, sitting at the bar of a pub near my house where lighting a small lamp suspended harmonized well with my need to write. To my right, a man of a certain age sipped his liquor. Between sips of gas explosions, I spoke to him. Under its modest appearance hid a sensitivity and erudition impressive. It was about literature (Musil, Proust) and music (Mozart, Bach and Mahler). My moleskin notebook open, I wanted to take up the pen when a couple man and woman showed up. The young woman, a blonde who spoke exclusively in English, had just hit my head and said "I'm sorry." Sitting to my left, she introduced me to the man who accompanied him: "He's my friend . Noticing my notebook, she ignored my conversation with the erudite friend when she asked, naively, if I allowed to read what was written in my book - of course I told him not. Moments later, four "shooters" were lined up on the counter. It was his tour. I was in this bar for just twenty minutes already, I attended the metamorphoses of the atmosphere. I put my notebook, choosing to speak with the young woman, calling at the same time my neighbor to join us. "I just lost my job" me "she said. That's when she expressed her desire to go dancing. Begging his friend to go with her until one of the clubs on Crescent Street, she quickly thrust a refusal on his part. I then proposed a bar in the Plateau Mont-Royal. "You want to come with me?" she asked me. For several minutes, secretly hoping she throws me this invitation, I who, in recent weeks, have often talked about my desire to go dancing. So I welcomed my neighbor at the table, I left the pub and me and the young women got into the first taxi.
She insisted to pay for the race. At the bar, I saw ordered six "shooter" and a pitcher of beer. It was too much for me, but she never asked me my opinion. The Zaz Bar, which is an institution of nightlife Montreal, showed little goodwill upon our arrival. Its 5 feet tall and dust, this pleasant early thirties face and body menu implicit, my faith, enough charm and casualness to turn the heads of most places, so that by its mere presence, dancing bar shone a glow and a more vibrant atmosphere, but also more restless in the best sense of the word.
On several occasions, she gave me, gently, a "Let me go!" I've tried starting the service. Because she wanted to seduce on about better. I did not need me to pray, I who recognized early this complicity that united us. Between us, there was no question of love games, but rather a strange seduction friendly. Whatever the follies which she take part, I knew she and I were back together in the same taxi as the friend with whom she would spend the night lived near my home. Between the songs of Michael Jackson and Bob Marley, I learned she lived in Ottawa and was in Montreal for a few hours or maybe a few days. Meanwhile, I watched his gestures and manners, which harbored a deep need to escape, to escape reality. At one point she told me she felt very close to me: "I Went To You Because You first Looked a lot like me." A few minutes later I saw her kiss a man, then another. I smiled at the gesture and indolent inconsistent, while saddened me despair of those males who were clinging to the hope that one night my friend was not going to calm down. I understand these men, especially at this moment my lips touched those of the beautiful mermaid.
It was past three o'clock in the morning. We were hungry. Rapido on the Mont-Royal Street at the intersection of St-Denis served poutine need to end the evening. That's where my new friend I made that statement shock: she admitted being diagnosed with a brain tumor at the advanced stage. But you will live is not it? I asked him, I do not know, me she said, calmly and sincerely. I then understood the reason for all his excesses, his urge to live, his madness and underlying this unique blend of joy and sorrow, mixed easily observable because it was the purest expression of courage and an appreciation.
The next day, I managed to join - we exchanged our cell numbers. I invited him for coffee, but she could not accept, she was preparing to return to the capital. Only after hanging up I realized I forgot to ask his name, about power add on Facebook. I did not remember to get this information. Sometimes I win these impulses of modesty ...
few minutes before starting to write this post, the smell of this beauty has come back to haunt me. I was not wearing a costume in Halloween night - it either, quite the opposite, but I had just lived one of the strangest nights of my life. More than its flavor, is the voice of the woman who grabbed me at the moment and I would give much to hear again the sweetness of this music "... Because You Looked a lot like me."
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