Every week I pick up a small dead bird from around the house. Each bird I touch is a small piece of history that is lost. Is there a species that spends its entire existence in its birthplace? Generations and generations that live on the same tree branch their entire lives? I imagine an ornithologist living in his parents’ house his entire life. I find comfort in the idea. I read an article that says that human evolution was accelerated by aliens. The rapid advances in human intelligence were apparently prompted by highly advanced alien researchers. It makes sense. Although, why did I fail my high school math so many times? Who knows.
*****
I go to the hospital to have my eye examined. The ophthalmologist examines me like the best ornithologist. She tells me that she sees something strange in my left eye. I am afraid of going blind in one eye. The specialist asks me if I have done anything unusual in the last few days. I answer: “I don’t think so, no. As usual, I bury dead birds near my house.”
*****
My father is stressed, he leans back slightly in his seat. I change lanes on the highway. My father asks me: “Where is it again?” He speaks at the same time as the voice of the GPS. I can’t hear the directions, but I guess I have to take the next exit. “At the Maisonneuve theater.” He nods, rubbing his lip. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” I’ve been invited to the premiere of Ricardo Trogi’s new film. My father turns slightly toward me and eyes my sweater and shorts. I know exactly what he’s thinking at that precise moment. It’s a gift I have: reading my father’s thoughts. I say: “You don’t like my sweater…” He glances at me furtively and smiles like an owl that has stolen a nest. “Oh, no, no… You’re an artist.” He says it lightly, mockingly, and without malice. When I was invited to the Gemini gala, I forced myself to wear a suit, on my mother’s recommendation. “There, Christophe, you have to be clean, there.” I did it to please him, to not embarrass him. I felt like I was in a caterpillar cocoon all evening: never could. The ideal of perfection to reach for my mother has always been Rafael Nadal. The version that won his first tournament at Roland-Garros, in 2005. As a joke, when she asks me to dress appropriately, I tell her that I don’t need to make an effort with my clothes, because I look exactly like Nadal: I touch my nose, my ear, I pretend to pull the panties out of my butt crack and I repeat this series of movements over and over again until she gets tired of me, saying to her: “Look how handsome I am, Mom, look.” We park at Place des Arts. We take the elevator to go to the reception. There is already a crowd of people. Everyone is very well dressed, too much well dressed. The long dresses, the jackets, the bow ties, the jewelry, the hairstyles, the perfume, the sunglasses… Gosh, is this a ball, should I leave? My father looks at me, I don’t give him time to speak: “OK, I’m not interested, with my short pants.” To distract him, I ask him if he wants something to drink. He says: “Yes, something sparkling.” I slip through the guests, the laughter, the selfies. Geez, am I starting to get anxious? The pandemic and the lockdown have broken something in me. Before, I had no problem socializing. Now, it’s torture every time. I say to the waiter: “I’d like something sparkling… and a tomato juice, please.” I open my juice, take a red swig and slip back into the crowd. A tall man doesn’t see me, he’s a very famous actor. Handsome as a picture. He’s wearing a cream-colored wool vest. You can see his nipples through the mesh. He backs away as if he were alone in the world. He crushes me. The drink sprays a silent jet like a water gun. His woolly back is dotted with a hundred little purple drops. He doesn’t turn around, he ignores me and laughs with his friend. I run away. My father repeats: “People are really chic here.” “In the room, we sit behind Podz. We see Denis Villeneuve in the distance. I think: Thank God it wasn’t Denis who got beating.. After the movie, on the way home, my dad falls asleep while I’m driving. I change lanes, he doesn’t notice anything. I tell myself that with Tide, everything should go away, everything should be fine.