félix
Writing this down now, before I lose the order of it.
On Saturday the 29th Félix came to sleep over. His idea. He sat in the bedroom doorway on a kitchen chair with a thermos, headphones around his neck and a notebook, and I slept in my own bed for the first time in three weeks.
In the morning he showed me the notebook. Times, in his tiny handwriting. Me talking at 01:10, 02:40 and 03:16, and next to each one: "both voices, R." He watched my face, he says. The low one is me, my mouth, my throat. He told me this calmly, like good news.
The app has those clips too. It has one more, at 04:06. Félix's notebook has nothing at 04:06. Around four he went out on the balcony for a smoke, he says. He says he heard it through the door and it was me.
It's two words. I'm not going to type them out.
On Monday Félix moved to Rosemont with Annick, and I helped carry his fridge down three floors in Villeray with two of her cousins. He didn't mention the notebook all day. At the end, sitting on his new stairs with a beer, he said, "Move, man." I said it's too late, I renewed. He said I didn't renew anything, I just didn't answer.