Even though it had been a long time, I hadn’t forgotten her.
I met Sule at the Belleneuve bar in Paris, in the autumn of 1978.
I was instantly attracted to her, not just physically, but to her posture, her look.
After I had approached her, she didn’t turn to me for close to a minute, with her eyes closed for as long.
The thought of leaving enveloped my mind, but before I even moved, she stopped me, saying, “you can buy me a drink, if you can guess what I’m thinking about.”
“Absolutely not, if I guess correctly, there is no guarantee you’ll admit to it,” I replied.
“Ok, you guess what I’m thinking, but don’t tell me, then I’ll say it out loud and you be the judge.”
I immediately agreed, assuming outright I would be more honourable than she would in relaying the truth.
To my surprise, I guessed correctly, or so I thought.
Two drinks later, we went home together.
Although I never experienced a night like that again, we didn’t speak or meet again until after the accident.
She told me about her life, about what she could do, that she had other people’s thoughts inside her head.
She didn’t hear voices in her head, but she somehow knew, what anyone around her was thinking.
She told me she had been born with it and never knew she was different until her early twenties.
As a child, this brought her in direct contact with the hatred, cynicism and wisdom of adults.
For this reason, Sule was never really a happy child, she would have extreme mood swings, inexplicable even to her.
She became depressed at times, being placed under constant surveillance at the tender age of six, because of too many suicide attempts.
After she was declared safe to re-enter society, Sule’s work ethic made her a millionaire within a few years, while her gift made her a billionaire not long after.
Her ability meant she not only knew the thoughts of the person, but felt their emotions as well.
This is why she had always been a “bipolar” person, but she had learnt to control it to some extent in adulthood.
She could always connect brilliantly with others, knowing what they were going through, which is partially the reason for her wealth.
You would never hear Sule speak ill of anyone, she knew what they felt and why they had done what they had done.
After the accident, she heard nothing.
This might seem like a dream come true for our tragic heroine, but she had never been alone before, not once was her mind filled with only her voice, only her thoughts.
Sule died two weeks later.
The doctor later told me she suspected self-asphyxiation, saying, “she just held in her breath and died.”
In her last two weeks, I didn’t even visit her again, I was too shocked after hearing the story, so she died alone.
I still regret that.
She never told me why she had let me win that night, or why I am the only person she ever confided in, but I’d like to think she read something beautiful in me, something that’s just mine.
The events, characters and names in this story are fictional, any relation to real life is purely coincidental.
