[...] Anyway it was the summer after we finished lycée and I went away with her family for the summer holidays, and her dad was there, staying at the house with us, and he swam with us, and drank with us, and smoked with us, and one day when I was washing my swimsuit in the laundry room he came up behind me and put his hand between my legs. And I liked it, Clémentine says, and I started sleeping with him, and I liked that too, I liked the hair on his chest, I liked how big he was, I liked hearing him talk about when he was young and having it be such a different time, he worked in cinema and he had loads of friends and I was so flattered that he would pay attention to me. When we got back to Paris I broke up with Céline and kept seeing Marc. I was so unused to seeing someone who had money, he paid for these splashy dinners and bought me the art books I wanted and anything else I wanted too. I started university and was still living with my parents but I stayed at Marc’s place most nights. We had a big fight when they found out. They ordered me to leave him and I said I wouldn’t. Céline refused to see her father and I felt terrible, fighting with my parents I could handle but not causing a rift between Céline and Marc, I could understand why she didn’t want to see me but I didn’t want to drive them apart. Still, something in me couldn’t leave him. I know it doesn’t make sense because he was so much older and it might look like he was taking advantage of me, but he needed me, I swear, I was the one taking care of him. Her voice cracks a little.