Parisian fashion had a way of being so direct—it revealed how active a person was, and when that energy began to rise, Monica met someone who completely unsettled her: Julie Delphy. She had just seen the movie Before Sunrise, and it stirred something unpleasant in her—an irritation, a bitter taste of indignation.
Billy was walking through the park, trying to take a step along the muddy paths that felt slippery underfoot, caught in the charm of two people slowly approaching each other.
–I never expected you to like older women, but it makes sense. You need a mother figure to take care of you, and young girls aren't smart enough—they don't understand that serious look in your eyes, all you're looking for is a little peace– said Julie. She was different. Unlike all of Billy's other friends, Monica had the least to worry about with her, but still, she remained alert. What made Julie so striking was the way her character always seemed to seek intimacy through conversation.
–I don't think that's what's happening… It's just that she always knows what to do, especially when you least expect it. And sometimes, I realize it's not just about making mistakes—it's simply that being with her feels easy. Like when people need a little push to get moving, to breathe, and maybe in the next few months, they get caught up in it.–The boy said. –But the thing about love is that it moves in strange ways, and when those ways shift, it's warm and simple. But it doesn't feel like deep love—it feels like connection, but not the kind you always long for.
–The impulses… But what about the connection? That thing that always seems to live in your mind, and when it disappears, you run from everything and bury yourself in work, like you're fighting an inner war to be the lone wolf–
–The lone wolf dies...
–I read your Game of Thrones book, but I wasn't referring to that. It's just—you're different. That's okay, though. Even if it doesn't seem like it, you've written some really good poetic lines. You've improved a bit, cowboy… Don't get me wrong—it's very good, just not my usual style of reading.– Julie replied.
–Solitude isn't something we seek out of desire. When something's not right, you simply have to cut it off. The problem is, it takes time to realize you're wrong—and that's why I come off as indecisive. I just take my time to weigh things, not immune to the mistakes I tend to make.– Billy had an idea that constantly felt flawed, always in need of refinement, and even if he was lost and mistaken, it mattered little. So many things to do in the coming days were slipping away like water through his fingers, as if the lights were dimming and the current pulled his hands into hollow caves.
–People do seek it—those who draw their muses from the night. And when everything seems to align for a meeting, it feels absurd. But we become absurd when we treat solitude as a friend, and that friend seems to forget us.–
–People are delicate– said Billy.
–They are. We all are when things don't go our way. You're a Gemini—you tend to wrestle with social conflict.– Julie added.
–I don't like horoscopes...–
–Signs are inventions that make us prone to our own mistakes. But it doesn't matter—let's fill spirituality with something other than ideological trends.– said Julie.
–This is the kind of talk that deserves a sequel... I'm freezing.– Billy said.
–Not before I fire my last rounds, so they become the future of our next conversation.– The girl lifted her hands and looked toward the horizon, so much left to say—for instance, how Billy had picked up two books, Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, each more brilliant than the last, told from Jesse's point of view. The contradictions he embraced as a writer were first-class.
They took another walk through the garden. Walking had become a good routine over the past few months, especially when trying not to show too much emotion, and realizing that maybe the perceived mistakes were simply human.
–It's heartless when someone tries too hard not to be wrong. It can be infuriating when you justify your lack of empathy and hide behind it, even knowing the error, preaching about a man who just keeps going, Julie Delphy concluded her thoughts.
–Are you saying that about someone in particular?–
–No one in particular. I just find it uncomfortable when you excuse ignorance. Men should be honest and uphold honor.– replied Julie.
–What's uncomfortable is that I've stopped caring. I'm not trying to be liked or justify my ignorance. When I speak the truth, I treat it for what it is. And the truth is—I don't understand it.– Billy said, glancing at Monica, who was up front, sipping some coffee, dipping a piece of bread. She waved from the new house they had bought, a charming place with white doors. It was cold—freezing, even.
–Like white flower bouquets—they always make me uneasy. When I was younger, I'd always get white flowers. Not red enough to imply commitment, but perfect for formal invitations. Though yellow ones are lovely.– Julie said.
–And that big house—damn. Something about it. It smells like marriage, and you can't ignore that as a woman, no matter how sexy you might look in lingerie.– Julie added.
–That's how business works... The house is for my use, but it's under someone else's name. That's what's interesting about estates. In some countries, taxes are better for Europeans. But I don't plan on getting married anytime soon—not out of fear or ignorance. It just feels disheartening to even think about it when I have so many goals that probably go against the idea of starting a family.– Billy replied.
–Ohhh, so it's not sincere then?–
–It is very sincere. It's just that sometimes, it's smarter to have a solid plan.– Billy said. –Even if you have to pay taxes, it works out better for everyone. And that's that.–
–I wasn't talking about taxes.– said the girl with almond-shaped eyes, who looked somewhat sad.
–Marriage, then. You're right. Maybe it wouldn't be sincere for the people involved with me. Monica already knows, and she's good at making it known.
–Your next movie—when is it?– Julie asked.
–January. End of January, if I remember correctly. Or maybe early February. This film is going to be good—it's different from the ones I usually work on.– Billy replied.
–Everyone's known that for a while now. The thing is—it's terrifying. But I have to go! I'm meeting a friend for food.– She tried to keep her distance from the 80s-style pursuit Julie always gravitated toward. Her style was fresh and free-spirited; even in the cold, she wore jeans and a black wool sweater.
–Monica. See you tonight.– Julie said, kissing both of her cheeks.
Even if it didn't look like it, she adjusted her hair with a hint of discomfort.
–Don't you think she's beautiful?– Billy whispered in her ear.
She liked being that way. Even if jealousy didn't seem part of her identity anymore—past relationships had ended for that very reason—she was trying to be smarter now when it came to these things.
***
The Parisian party wasn't just any party—it was the kind where each group had three people, and many groups were celebrating. The lights were dimmed, and within those shadows came clarity.
–So she is...–
–She is. And it looked like you wanted to bore a hole through her temple when you saw her… I thought it was funny.– Billy replied.
They were dancing, testing their rhythm on the starlit floor of the bar. A bit of closeness—something entirely different from America, where Europe now seemed to prefer ballads full of feeling. A mix of rock, pop, and unknown artists that didn't seem to belong to any particular place.
–I don't know what you're talking about.– Monica said.
...