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Love is unpredictable. Humans are predictable. I should have this in mind when I met Lavina. It was the beginning of Summer, when a surge of contradictions between the aridity of human professional activities and their natural phantasies mix with the multitude in a staging. A beautiful staging. At that time I was living in Clermont-Ferrand, at Aubière, more exactly. My parents decided their son’s head would be supported by Aceso, the goddess of the healing power but I preferred the sexual auto-determination, a wrong move in my life, as I will attempt to show later. Medicine demands a lot of discipline, total obedience, but I was prone to rituals and role-plays, décors and enchantments.
A friend of mine, Gilles, invited me for a meeting, downtown. The purpose was to discuss ways to empower women, how to give a global voice to female. Gilles was supposed to have a date with a French girl and he didn’t weight his decision to take me with them, in the girl’s car, nor was I aware of the context. So, Gilles started laughing about feminism and asking (himself) why woman were in need to affirm themselves as a different group. He was unconfortable with the girl, clearly, and I became sympatetically nervous, because he was talking, looking to the girl and then to me, in this order. Naturally, the girl was very annooyed and left us at the beginning of the city, and we had a long walk to the Mairie, where the event would take place. All the way we were laughing with the outcome of his (and mine) idiotie. I never clearly understood if Gilles concern with the issue and the meeting was motivated by a hidden sexual proclivity or not. But in the end, people would dance in pairs the traditional dance from Auvergne, the bourrée. In the Continent, France had always this dream of human association, experiencing progress through big leaps of revolutions, and I confess to admire secretly that perspective, although, also frequently, I thought it too much ingenuous. Nowadays, look, history is my witness.
Women in the West live in a transition of space, color, lights, and shadows that make them rediscover the goddess that we may recognize in the strokes and faces of their bodies, as if inherent to a devious biologic species. Possibly, some sentimental religious feelings may force a runaway from seeing women a work of art, and instead projected a depreciative connotation, a monstrous deviation, building up ideologies that blur reality, and frequently, make of women just a piece of merchandise.
That was what I had in mind when I saw Lavina by my side. We were just watching the ball, abreast, and I didn’t have in mind any intention to dance, even if at the time I was alone, living in a student room. I was there, simply amazed, observing that communion of souls. Meanwhile, Gilles disappeared in the crowd. Had he left? Well, the music and dance can be very intense in the bourrée, women turning while men chase them in a two-stroke movement. The rhythm, patterns, and smoothness of gliding arms and hands, can feed passion in anyone. Well, to be just watching instead of dancing at that moment, shows that maybe I was just a snob, a character trait inherent to the French culture.
– I will be out of phase from all of them! – I shouted, trying to be heard among the loud music.
– You can’t be sure, until you try it! – she replied with a big and genuine smile, while gently waving her body.
So, faithful to my principles, I haven’t danced at all, but later on, when the festivities had finished, she invited me to her home, and I accepted the offer, fainting naturality. She drove about twenty kilometers outside Clermont-Fd, stopping near a property with a few small wooden houses distributed randomly.
– That’s it. – she confirmed me her address with a timid smile. I look at her face, illuminated by the outside light and told to myself, “this girl is beautiful”. Then I took the opportunity to go outside the car and opened her door, intentionally wanting to show my sense of chivalry. That was a bad move of mine and I recalled Gilles careless experience to dating.
– Oh, what a lovely guy we have here!… – I heard a strenuous voice behind me. It was a middle-aged man accompanied by a group of three that looked similar.
– Come with us inside, let’s have a drink together. By the way, I am Lavina’s uncle.
Surprised, I looked at Lavina’s face attempting to understand what was going on and she waved me a hidden sign to be cool. The manly group drove us inside the kitchen’s house and they told me to take out my shoes, because that was the rule in the house. Then, the uncle pointed me a sit on the extreme corner of the entrance, but in any way, their mood was aggressive. By the contrary.
– So, we have no doubts that you have serious intentions, regarding this girl, of course. Serious intentions.
– Absolutely! – I replied immediately.
-So, let’s drink to commemorate your beautiful friendship!
And the manly group stood up and danced around their own axis and drank and sang for a while. I looked deep in the eyes of Lavina to understand what was all about and she looked to me terrified. Terrified myself, I stood up, excusing with the need to finish a homework assignement due the next day.
-Of course, you can leave. Bye!
-Where can I pick my shoes? – I asked, looking around the room with no sign of them.
-There! – and they pointed to the exterior through the now open window. Outside, the weather had changed a lot and the night rain had start falling without merci. Then, I saw my shoes laying outside a few meters from the entrance, in the mud. Ashamed, I immediately leaved the house, barefoot, then took my shoes under the big laugh of the manly group, and start walking back under heavy rain to my student’s room. At first, I tried to be amused by the weird characters and had tried to get the humorous side of the situation, but, confused, I couldn’t erase from my feelings a curious sense of misery.
The Soul of Matter 