I ended up sobbing in Abby’s arms for more than half an hour, sipping on a cup of coffee and not really knowing where I was or how I had ended up in that situation. Pierre had been holding my hand all that time, his warmth a shield against my memories. After a while I was better, enough to slowly start talking again. I still couldn’t move, but I didn’t need to. My friends took care of everything.

Three hours and a bowl of rice later the apartment was to Abby’s liking, and oddly enough smelled of strawberries. It was a refreshing smell, so I didn’t investigate it further, but I was certain that no strawberry had ever entered this place. Anyways. We were both seated on my sofa while Pierre was on my beloved gaming chair setting everything up, from the webcam to the mic.

It was difficult to ask for money without feeling like beggars, and our low self-esteem didn’t help us in that regard. Each of us had experienced failure and humiliation too many times, and we were afraid of our own boldness in this big adventure. We were certain we’d fail, yet hopeful we’d succeed.

“Aaaaaand… done! Now we just have to wait for people to see it. I’m so excited, guys! We finally made something! It’s definitely gonna work this time, I feel it in my guts. We owned it. This video was pure genius, and I’m an awesome actress. Right, M.? Right? I’ll be perfect in the main role, you HAVE to give it to me! I know I have what it takes to portray that girl!”

Abby was, as often when she actually did something, an electric cell. There was no way to stop her blabbering, so Pierre and I just closed our eyes and waited for her bipolar-disorder-induced frenzy to die down a bit.

If I could get her to focus on it for more than a few hours she would, indeed, be perfect for the part. I wondered if she knew how to fight with a morgenstern, and if she would be willing to learn…

Then I wondered where in the seven levels of hell I would find someone to teach her. And other people adept of the kind of combat featured in some of the scenes of that damned book. Oh, yeah, and how much all of this nonsense would end up costing me.

Thinking back, maybe I should have at least listened to what that weirdo had to offer… Nah, my self-esteem wouldn’t have survived it. And I need that more than I need money. I don’t mind being broke as long as I have a place to sleep and instant noodles.

“M.? You didn’t answer me… Don’t you think I could do it? I know I’m not a real actress, and I have a lot to learn, so if you say no I’ll understand… but I wish you would at least give me a chance...”

Oh, crap. Not that. I can’t stand her breakdowns, they are almost as bad as mine. It’s inevitable, though, that’s how her symptoms work : first, she gets over-excited and full of energy and confidence, almost as if she thought she was invincible. Then, she feels like the worst being on this planet and completely worthless, has no energy whatsoever and doesn’t even dare to cry because she is so ashamed of herself. And finally, the tears just fall down on their own accord and the crying can last several hours.

“Abby, I didn’t say anything because I was thinking of a way to make it all work. You don’t realise it yet, but there are a lot of things to take into account, a lot that can go wrong, especially for people like us. You would be good in that part, hell, you would be the best! But I don’t want you to get hurt in any way while filming it. Do you understand?”

I tried to be as sweet-sounding as possible, to soothe her and prevent a crisis, but… She burst into tears. She had understood it all wrong again. And now, there was nothing for me to do but take her in my arms and sing her a lullaby. It seemed to be the only way to calm her down, and I knew my voice would break before she’d stop crying. I needed to learn more of these silly children songs if I was going to be friends with such a weirdly awesome yet so fragile girl...

Pierre, in the meantime, was trying to put together all the sheets of paper I had scribbled on over the last few days to organise stuff. He wasn’t good with crying people, being unable to cry himself. So he tried to do something that would help us later, when the tears had dried and Abby had slept a few hours.

He opened my laptop, and typed everything I had put to paper in a GoogleDoc so we could improve it together later. He found the beginning of a scheduling plan and organised it into a spreadsheet, adding his own propositions on both documents with a few notes so that I could review it while Abby slept. It was a nice thought, that he was there preparing things for us, oddly comforting even if he didn’t so much as look at us.

At that moment I felt engulfed in a sweet warmth that I had never experienced before. I guess that’s what friendship feels like… A mix of annoyance and tenderness and trust, knowing that no matter what happens, they love you for who you are and don’t care what you’ve been through as long as you don’t do anything stupid. I decided that I liked that strawberry smell after all.