Eyes wide shut

Eyes like saucers and mouth open wide with my lower jaw practically reaching my knees. That must have pretty much been how I looked hours after returning to my flat in Ecully. Before elaborating on my complete astonishment and the reasons for it, I should probably set some things right. Three weeks in I had already accused some of my colleagues of merely tolerating me rather than liking as such. Ever since coming back however and showing my face at work, I almost start thinking the opposite. Everyone is very friendly, I do not know why but perhaps I will find out one day. Maybe I changed after four days on my own in the country. Maybe things here changed. Whatever it is, people wait for me before going off for lunch or otherwise drag me with them by my hair, they say hi really quite enthusiastically and one of them came to see me on Wednesday evening.

Karmen is her name and she was in the training group with me. Apparently she had spent a large chunk of the weekend by herself which made me feel a bit sorry for her because it can get quite lonely then. So she came over to check if I was back. Coming in she announced to be in a bad mood due to some issues whilst buying chocolate. As she had perhaps been a little alone over the weekend and moody I figured my marbled teabread, tea and chocolate Easter eggs were the way forward.

Over tea and chocolate she updated me on the latest developments at work involving another of our colleagues and some of the interns. Her story resulted in the huge eyes and overall totally unintelligent look on my face. Astonishment and sheer disbelief took hold of me. I will explain. As it happens the youngest colleague we have has not been very well for the last weeks. Nausea and throwing up. Now if that takes a day, food poisoning is a logic explanation. Bit longer…some kind of odd virus, infection, whatever. But longer and being a girl, that makes people think. As she too was in our training group we had fairly soon inquired whether pregnancy was a possibility. Technically yes was the answer. Since Wednesday, the technically is no more. The girl in question was sent home by our boss and told to think about it very very carefully. Overall impression amongst new colleagues about this approach.

Strangely though, where older women tend to wait sharing this kind of news until the third month, a 17-year-old, or perhaps just this one, managed to have everyone on the floor know within hours. To say some of the reactions are rather surprising is an understatement I suppose. Most of the female interns were very enthusiastic, one even started crying apparently. I now wonder whether me and the two other girls that are not over the moon about it are the odd ones out. Does not anyone of them grasp the implications of this? That the girl is 17, going on 18? That she has no certificates whatsoever? That she has no fixed job either as this is seasonal work? That in her behaviour she is still fairly young? Does none of them see all this? Or do I have to conclude now that there is a serious age difference here? That the older you get, the more you worry and the less impulsive you get? Or is this what they call ‘experience’?

It is a somewhat strange sensation though to know that someone who is a lot younger, is pregnant. Next week she comes back and I will look at her and think that when she has reached 26, she’ll have a nine-year-old, abortion not being an option to her. I will look and wonder how she’s going to cope. Taking care of herself is a major challenge as it is. How is she going to take care of a baby? Luckily her parents are very enthusiastic too. I don’t understand but perhaps this child then is wanted by some if not entirely by its mother at the moment. I will look at her and realise that despite being nine years older, I am nowhere near ready to have a child and not because I cannot take care of it, financial issues being left out of consideration. The mean reason is that a child means huge responsibilities and living to your child’s clock and needs. Baby first, self second, or that is how my parents told me it should be. At seventeen, I doubt she can do it. At twenty-six, I do not want to do it, but then, I have the luxury of thought.