#13 - The blue balloon (the story)
It’s hard to be small because people get mean.
‘You see, son’, said a father to his boy the other day, as the three of us were waiting for the lift. ‘Work hard at school, otherwise you'll end up like her.’
Oscar Wilde said, ‘I refuse to engage in an intellectual battle with an unarmed man.’ So I slipped my book into my pocket and kept quiet.
It's a little bit every day, my drama teacher used to say, back in France. When you have a goal in life, you have to work on it a little bit every day. And putting people down is a sport like any other, after all.
It was early afternoon in July. It was already very hot (37°C!) and summer had only just begun. I had spent the day going up and down stairs (50 to 60 floors a day, without lift!) and finally, I was beginning to see the end of it.
I rang the doorbell.
‘Who is it?’ said a man on the intercom.
‘La lectura del gas.’
‘Ah.’
The disappointment in his voice was painful. He hung up. I heard a noise in the hallway, so I stayed, just in case. And he did come down to open the door. He showed me where the meters were, but there was a pile of stuff blocking the access. He swore, removed a kid’s bicycle and some plastic toys, and in his haste, a balloon floated away and tumbled down the stairs.
I watched it float for a second.
Turning around, I saw the guy staring at me, bike in hand, looking rather upset, so I hurried off to take my pictures. Then I thanked him cordially, picked up the escaped balloon, and handed it to him. ‘No, but what do you expect me to do with it?’ he said, annoyed. ‘Take it away!’ So I went out, balloon in my hands, and heard the door slam behind me.
I'd had such a difficult day already... Exactly this, aggressive people for no reason, rejections, comments, sighs... For a moment, I couldn't move. I stood there, on the spot, trying with all my might not to burst into tears. It was too stupid, really. So I took a deep breath and then looked at the balloon. What am I going to do with you?
‘Throw it away!’ I could still hear the guy barking. ‘In the street, I don’t care!’
But I couldn’t. Is this how we do then, these days? We use, and when we’re done using, we throw away, without second thought? My balloon and I were like two stray cats, and I certainly wasn’t going to abandon it there. That would have been like admitting the guy was right. The idea made me shiver. So I opened my book to the page where I’d left off and walked, balloon under my arm, to the Tube, where everyone was giving me strange looks. But I think it was on that day I realised ‘strange’ was a compliment and that I was going to spend the rest of my life going against the current. —
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