Friday Chronicles:The Friday before Monday.

The story of a sheep who never took the chance.

Chance by Sammie Chaffie via Unsplash

Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, "It might have been - KurtVonnegut.

I saw the prettiest girl in my secondary school today. She was looking entirely different.

When I was 15, I was shy and naive. She hosted a party. She called it a small gathering with a few of her friends (if you were once a teenager, you should understand). It was an invite-only, and no chance in hell I was getting invited. I didn't fit the profile of a party personality.

I was stale. Like a bowl of cereal - without milk.

See, my hobby was counting the Cs and Hs of long-chain hydrocarbons. I loved chemistry. I still do. If there were ever a party where teenagers dance to the beat of 'anes' and 'enes', I would have been the number one invite.

However, my profile doesn't fit a conventional teenage party. I never drank alcohol for once. I felt I would hate the taste, or it would make me misbehave.

At least my parents would say.

Don't get me wrong. I knew my way around alcohol. I mean, the Cs and Hs; and I could split them with my eyes closed. I also understood where the O fits.(Chemical formula).

Also, I couldn't tell a female classmate to pass me a pen, but I probably knew a lot about her anatomy. I thought about female anatomy every day. Most teenagers do. Hormones allowed us.

Enough about myself. Back to the girl...and the party.

This girl somehow invited me to this party. It doesn't make sense to me till today.

It really doesn't.

Because I knew the chances of me getting invited was 1%. What surprised me was that this girl left out people with almost a 99% chance of getting invited.

The cool, fit guys.

Why the lanky, stale me?

What's her plan? Do they need someone to clown at the party? 

Wait. Maybe she likes me.

I thought too fast. Hormones. Inexperience.

The idea of her interest in me struck like lightning. Bright enough to get noticed, short enough to be forgotten.

This idea lingered for a day or two. I allowed it. Then I thought to myself. Even if she doesn't like me (which was quite obvious), I got invited to the biggest party in school; by the prettiest girl in school.

It was a big deal still.

I walked home from school thinking about it. I imagined all the possible scenarios. The things that could go right and wrong. Things that could change me. 

I wasted quite some time thinking about this party. Most classes didn't interest me as they used to; even my dear Chemistry. My head was full of possibilities and scenarios. Not structures or chemical formulas.

Just that party.

The possibility was beautiful to imagine.

But then, something unimaginable struck me. Not bad luck. Not any school schedule. A huge impossibility. A 100% chance of not attending that party.

What was that?

My parents.

They won't let me.

My dad knew no fun. My mum wants me to be the next Christ. "Fun" in my household is prohibited. My dad hates it. My mum fights it.

The party was in a week. It would take God himself years to convince my parents. It would take me a lifetime. There was no chance.

I needed to do something. I needed to lie.

The days were already approaching faster than a bullet train. I prepped every day before that Friday. Lies upon lies rehearsed; Vigils, sleepovers, overnight studying; and all other ridiculous lies.

Finally, I choose prayer vigil. At least it would convince my mum. 

But, which church? 

My mum knew our family church schedule like our names. I can't lie to her about that. I had to think of something else. Finally, I chose our neighbour's church. 

Technically, my soul would be at the vigil, but my body would be at my first ever teenage party.

On the evening of that fateful Friday, I walked up to my mum to give my lie some life.  My dad was there, eyes on his newspaper, indifferent.

I asked, "Dad, someone at school invited me for a party tonight." Can I go?

My brain betrayed me. The lie never came out of my mouth.

Everything I did at that point was off. Off script. Off character. And in general, the wrong scene.

What happened later blew my brain cells away.

He said: "Yes, of course" "Just be careful".

I froze.

I was shocked. The reply threw me off balance mentally.

I looked at my mum, she looked back, and she said nothing. Meaning she also permitted.

I walked into my room silently and thought deeply about it. What just happened? I couldn't believe it!

The scene outside with my parents was incredible. What happened later that night was even more interesting.

What happened? What did I do?

I did nothing. 

I didn't act. 

I never went to that party.

I filled my thoughts with so much impossibility, that I was traumatized by the chance given to me by my parents.

It was a case of the bear chained on a marked spot for years. When the chains were removed, the bear never left the spot.

I was that bear.

The next week at school made my story worse. Most of the seniors were looking at me, both the girls and boys. I never knew why. 

But I found out later.

The girl was waiting for me. She asked around for me. She wanted me to be there. I wasn't supposed to be the clown or anything.

I was the number one invite. It could have been incredible.

Where was I? At home. Refusing to take a step. Refusing to move. Belittling myself. Psyched out.

I promised myself to change. I promised to become better, more confident, more assertive, and approach things as I wanted them. 

I promised myself to walk up to that girl the next day, and show her that I didn't back out.

Show her I was not a cub. Show her I could lead a pride.

And what happened after this promise to myself? 

Nothing. 

Nothing happened.

I was still scared. Scared to take a chance. She showed interest long after the party, but I never approached. I avoided beautiful experiences because I felt they didn't fit my profile. 

I felt if I took a chance, I would be living a life that's not mine. So I backed away for years.

---

My story took a huge turn after this incident.

On the eve of my 21st birthday, I had a terrible car accident. A crucial part of the nerve was affected and had me paralysed. I was forced into a wheelchair.

My parents? Gone.

I was stuck in my place. With a possibility of being there for the rest of my life.

One thing about sitting in one place is that you're forced to think. You're forced to look back.

You're moving neither forward nor backwards. So you have to sit on your soaked diapers and think.

I looked back at my life and it lacked substance. I never lived. I had no stories to tell. No nostalgia to feel. No experience to remember and smile.

I had no life.

Later, after about 10 months, I took some physiotherapy sessions. I was able to stand again. It felt like the ground rejected me. I couldn't take a step.

Lubo Minar via unsplash

The pain and weakness motivated me. I promised myself to always take the chance, or at least try. I promised myself a story to tell.

I promised to fill my latter years with experiences - Maybe that's why God gave me a second chance.

I failed my 15-year-old self. I want to live for my 21-year-old self. Nothing would stop me from doing that.

If fate decides to put me on a seat again in the future, I would look and smile that I lived. At least I took chances, and I lived through amazing experiences.

Because, when you look at it, nothing else matters. When we grow old and weak on our deathbeds, those stories and experiences would be all we have. It would be the last memory before death knocks.

It would be our identity.

*You might be asking what happened to the girl earlier in the story. Did she disappear?

No. Let's say she was my physiotherapist.

She came, looking entirely different.

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