"Lever la tête, bomber le torse, sans cesse redoubler d'efforts. La vie ne m'en laisse pas le choix."*

Amel Bent_French Singer

Norabel

I've taken the wise decision to avoid talking to Ethan.

Since that time he took me to the bookshop on Sunday, when we got back home I made a point of returning to my bedroom without a glance in his direction. When Jasmine came back I spent a good time in her company. My mother was right about her being a warm person.

I helped her rearrange by genre a collection of DVDs that have been staying inside a box in the garage for so long that she almost forgot they were there. We talked about the ones I recognized and spent a good time laughing about how cringe some movie plots used to be back in the day.

When Ethan came in the garage probably alerted by how much noise we were making I suspected that Jasmine might have asked him to come help us but to my relief, she shooed him away.

When dinner came, Jasmine kept the conversation around the table going by asking each of us what we did during our day. She then kept her focus on me as she inquired how I handle uni and how it felt to graduate soon. Ethan must have noticed that I was reluctant to talk to him because he never asked me personal questions and instead commented on what his mother said.

At least he's not oblivious.

I went to my bedroom after helping with dishes despite Jasmine's protestations. I called Mom to make sure she'd settled safely in Arcahaie. Then I went to bed thinking about how my life had changed in just a week-end.

Don't get me wrong, I've always known deep down that my mother and I would eventually leave Croix-des-Bouquets if the insecurity kept increasing. But the way it happened... that's nothing like I had imagined it. We left with the vice grip of fear around our throats and the deathly sound of gunshots echoing in our ears. That's the last memory that I have of my home.

I try and fail to not think about Tabarre the commune where my university is located. What if Tabarre becomes like Croix-des-Bouquets? What if there comes a day when I can't go to school anymore? This is a rational fear given the fact that there's also a gang established in Torcelle a neighborhood leading to Tabarre. What they like to do is stop buses that drive through early in the morning to rob drivers and passengers alike. But lately, I've heard that they're also abducting people and asking for ridiculous amounts of ransom such as hundreds of thousands of U.S. dollars. They're starting to operate just like the gang in Croix-des-Bouquets.

The authorities remain silent. Nothing surprising here.

At least that's one thing that's not changing in this country. Nobody gives a shit about the suffering of its people.

I can only hope that whatever shit goes down in this country at least I'll be able to finish that school year and get my degree. I need it to have a shot at that foreign internship. If I get accepted applying for a visa will be easy. I need to get that internship and it's another reason why my thesis needs to be perfect. Or else I'll be stuck in this country after graduation for who knows how many more years?

I understand why my ex chose to drop his studies here and immigrate as soon as he got the opportunity to do so. The thing is while I get why he'd want to leave this country the fact that he dumped me in the process like I was a heavy weight on his shoulders left a sour taste in my mouth that lingers even eight months later.

And this Ethan dude had the nerve to bring up, "the way I felt about my ex" as if he had any idea what happened between us. Well, it was my mistake for striking up a conversation with him that allowed him to touch on that sensitive topic. Now that I know he doesn't have any tact whatsoever I'll just avoid talking to him from now on.

***

"Are you ready?" Keisha asks.

I sweep my gaze around the room and take a deep breath. 

"I thought I was but now I'm not so sure."

We're already Thursday, the week went by in a flash. The day that I've been stressing about is here at last.

There are eight other students from my major seated in two rows of chairs aligned in front of the table where some distinguished members of our faculty are taking a turn evaluating the mock presentation of the student who has just finished exposing the draft of her thesis. 

All the faculty members look like they have way more important things to do than to witness a bunch of undergraduates stutter their way through the problem tackled in their work while sweating heavily despite the air conditioner blasting cold air around the room.

"You're gonna be brilliant," Keisha says as she presses my hand in encouragement. "That's the kind of person you are, the more difficult your goal is the more work and dedication you put in."

She looks at me with such pride in her eyes that my throat feels suddenly tight. I can only smile at her afraid that if I speak I will shed some tears. 

Keisha didn't have to come here today because it's not the actual thesis presentation, just a prep for the Big Day but it's still important nonetheless and I appreciate the fact that she chose to skip a lecture to come and morally support me. My best friend is a real gem. 

I try not to let the stress get the best of me. At least my director of thesis Dr. Renaud, is among the faculty members behind the table, so to me, his face looks probably less intimidating.

As I wait for my turn I take another look around at my peers, the few of us who remain. Our department never had a lot of students because it was recently incorporated into the university but we used to be more than this scarce number. Some left early on as soon as they found a job that allowed them to provide for themselves, others were forced to drop out after missing too many attendances. They were the ones who lived in neighborhoods that were controlled by gangs like my home in Croix-des-Bouquets. Some others were lucky enough to be able to immigrate and then there's the rest of us... the ones who made it here at last. 

More often than not I get the sick feeling that one of these days I'll come to uni and find that everybody in my major has left and I'm the only one who didn't because I missed some kind of huge opportunity.

When my turn finally comes I deliver my presentation just like I'd prepared it since the beginning of this week. All the work that I've put in since March at the beginning of this semester is finally coming to fruition.  I may have written about ten drafts before I finally got this one. At the end of my presentation, each faculty member give me a few pointers and recommendations just like they did for everyone else. I was the last student to present so as soon as they are done with me they all leave. Dr. Renaud however stays behind to have a word with us. 

He's not only my director of thesis but also the teacher that the students in my major had the most classes over the years. He's a short man in his sixties who always find a way to crack a joke during his lectures to lighten up the mood. We all love his sense of humor. After giving us some final advice he wishes us all good luck in our future projects before leaving as well.

Keisha is waiting for me outside of the room so I gather my things ready to head out but notice that all the other students have formed a circle with their chairs to discuss something. I get closer to their group briefly wondering if I'm also concerned by whatever they're talking about.

Soon enough one of the guys, Henry, sees me approaching and asks "You're gonna be there right?"

He addresses me as if we had a previous conversation regarding a topic that I'm not aware of since I have no idea what he means by that. 

"I'm sorry, where?"

"We're throwing a small celebration lunch for Dr. Renaud to thank him for everything he's done for us as a teacher and a mentor those past few years. We've already gotten the authorization to do it in one of the empty labs of the computer science department."

Oh, so that's what's going on.

That's probably why the group chat of our major had been going crazy this week-end but I never check the messages on there.

"I'd be happy to contribute," I say. "Just text me the amount we have to give."

"But will you be there?" Henry insists and I can sense the heavy weight of all the gazes in the room as they stare at our exchange.

"I don't think I'll be able to come," I finally say. There's no way that I'll lie because of the pressure to say yes and then not show up. I already know I won't be there.

Henry simply nods, not at all surprised by my answer.

"Don't worry about the money. We'll be fine with what we've collected among us."

And with that, he just returns to his conversation with the other students. I've been dismissed so I turn around to walk out of the room.

I don't miss one of the girls saying loud enough for me to hear, "I told you not to bother inviting this stuck-up diva. She never takes part in anything that we do."

An uneasy feeling rises from the pit of my stomach but I quickly squash it down. I have too many things on my plate to be worried about some petty melodrama.

***

"How about this one?"

Keisha holds up a sequined bodycon dress, backless, with a chain collar and a v-neck that will undoubtedly offer a nice view of her breast. She could set this dress on fire by wearing it.

"It's perfect," I say before giving her a mischievous grin.  "But do you want the guy to have a stroke when he sees you? Go easy on him."

Keisha laughs and puts the dress back on its rack. We've been touring the many fancy boutiques located in Pétion-Ville to find our outfits for the music event that Keisha and I have VIP tickets to thanks to Kadrick aka Kade Lebeau.

"You're right," Keisha huffs. "I don't want to come off as trying to impress him. But I do want to impress him." She turns toward me with a grimace. "Why is that dating shit so hard?  You might be onto something by choosing to stay single. This extra stress is kicking my ass."

I try to lift her spirit as we continue to walk between the aisles of clubwear clothing for women. To be honest it's quite adorable to see my best friend worry about making a good impression on a man. I think Keisha might see something special in Kadrick if he has the power to turn my super-confident bestie into this messy ball of nerves.

I come to a halt when a piece of clothing catches my attention and I take it off its rack to show it to Keisha.

It's a gorgeous black mini dress with lace-up sides that would expose huge patches of her skin from the waist down the legs. It somehow looks as seductive as the previous sequined dress but with a classy touch because of its long sleeves. 

Keisha gapes for a few seconds before letting out a low whistle.

"Now that's something."

"Quick! Go try it on." I hand it to her and she runs toward the fittings rooms aligned in the back while I continue browsing for my outfit. I already have two dresses in hand but I want to have another choice.

When Keisha comes out of one of the rooms I have no choice but to start clapping slowly.

"Girl please, have mercy on me!" I exclaim while she twirls in delight and then strikes a pose like a model on a red carpet.

"I'm telling you, babe, Kadrick is in for a wild ride."

We exchange a high five.

"That poor guy will salivate all night for sure."

"And if he's extra nice I'll let him take this dress off of me!"

After we finish shopping Keisha and I decide to grab a drink before going our separate ways. My best friend knows Pétion-Ville better than I do so she gives me the directions and I drive us to an Asian place that serves amazing cocktails according to her.

We've taken a seat on the terrace, waiting for the waiter to come back with our orders. Keisha talks a bit about uni and I decide to tell her about what happened earlier with the students in my major when I declined their invitation to the celebration lunch they're holding for Dr. Renaud.

"I don't know what their problem is, I offered to contribute but they still were mad that I couldn't be there."

Keisha eyes me in silence for a while as if she's carefully planning her answer.

"What is it?" I ask. "You're giving me a strange look."

"I mean... you do keep to yourself. Maybe the other students have the impression that you don't think they're worth spending time with."

"Come on Kish, this is uni. Everybody minds their business. It's not like high school where there's peer pressure to belong to a clique."

Keisha waves a hand dismissively as if I'm missing a crucial point.

"What I'm trying to make you see, it's that I'm the only real friend you've made in the four years you spent there. Do you ever worry that you might have passed on the opportunity to create some meaningful connections with other people?"

I consider what she says for a moment then I shrug.

"I just don't see it that way. These students will never see each other again after we graduate. So I don't see why they act as if the fact that I keep my distance is a criminal offense."

Keisha raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"You mean except for the ones who decide to keep in touch. 'Cause some of them will trust me."

The way she says this rings an alarm inside my head.

Wait a second...

"Are you worried I might not keep in touch with you once I graduate because you still have another year left? Is that what this is about?"

Keisha rolls her eyes. I was wrong.

"That's not the point," she says. "You need to realize that living closed off just to avoid having to say goodbye to people makes you limit yourself."

Thankfully our waiter comes right this moment with the cocktails we ordered and the second he leaves Keisha is already talking about how gorgeous his sleeve tattoos are. I'm more than happy to keep her on that path.

When my phone vibrates I take it from the table expecting to see a message from my mother since she regularly checks up on me. But after I type my password I see that the incoming text is from a number that isn't registered in my contacts. 

Intrigued I click on the notification. The full message is now displayed on the screen. 

How far are you from home? Could you please stop by a pharmacy?

The word "home" is the one that catches my attention. Jasmine's number is registered in my contacts so obviously that's not her.

Could that be...?

Another text pops up

It's Ethan. Sorry for texting you out of nowhere. It's urgent and my mother can't know about this.

"Are you okay?" Keisha asks. "You're making a weird face."

"Yeah, just hold on a minute."

I start typing a reply, asking for an explanation but I never have the chance to send it because my phone starts to ring. Ethan is calling me.

I excuse myself from the table and answer the call once I'm out of earshot. In case Ethan is trying to pull off some horrible prank I don't want my best friend to think that we're close enough to be playing pranks on each other, Keisha would never let me hear the end of it.

"What's going on?" I ask as soon as I pick up.

"Norabel..." Ethan says and my heart drops at how off his voice sounds on the other line.

Something is wrong. His voice is weaker than his usual pitch like someone who's about to fall asleep but tries to mumble something before drifting away.

"Ethan, are you alright?" 

When he doesn't answer I repeat my first question, "What's going on?"

"I think... I think..." he seems to have difficulty speaking but that's not the only thing I notice. His breathing is labored as if he's not getting enough oxygen and my worry starts to morph into a panic.

What the hell is wrong with him? 

"Ethan talk to me, are you injured? Should I call your mother?"

"No!" 

Despite his weak voice, this one word is uttered as clearly as day. I'm about to argue when he speaks up again.

"I just need you to stop by a pharmacy and pick up a few things for me. I'll be fine." He pauses as if it cost him a lot of effort to say so many words at once. When he speaks again his voice is soft and vulnerable. "Can you do that for me please?"

I swallow down any protest that wanted to make its way out of my mouth. 

Ethan is an adult. If he doesn't want me to contact his mother I should respect his decision.

"I'll do it," I say and I can hear his sigh of relief. "What do you need me to bring?"

"You can hang up. I'm gonna text you the names."

"Alright."

"Thanks, Nora."

This unexpected use of my nickname spoken in almost a whisper startles me. I quickly hang up and brush aside the unwelcome warmth spreading inside my chest. 

I'm only helping Ethan because he's not feeling well. That's what any decent human would do. This does not mean that we're on speaking terms. 

***Chapter Endnotes***

"Lift your head, puff your chest, and constantly redouble your efforts. Life leaves me no choice."

Song: "Ma Philosophie" by Amel Bent released in 2004.