CHAPTER 5: ACQUAINTANCES
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Luck is a strange concept. When you want luck to favour you in dire situations, it ends up giving you a punch in the gut. You are left hopeless, alone, and gasping for air. However, lady luck is not all bad. Sometimes, when you least expect it, she will swoop in and save the day. Then, you’ll forget about all the times it abandoned you. However, I learnt that if one is to find success, luck alone won’t cut it. With luck, there must also come stupidity and foolhardiness. Fortunately, I had a bit of both with me.
October 20th, 2016. I had made the daring decision of inviting Violet to my house. What made me take that decision? Plain foolishness. My mom wasn’t home, and it wouldn’t look right if I invited a girl over. However, I completely overlooked that. I didn’t even think that she would accept my invitation. Much to my surprise, she was looking forward to it.
Upon receiving news that she was willing to come over, I got to work, making sure to clean each and every corner of my room. Even the smallest speck of dirt was eliminated by my cleaning tools of destruction. From the desk to the bookshelf, the figurines to bed, everything had to be perfect. I spent almost a lifetime making sure that my room looked as hospitable as possible. Anything less was not acceptable.
Violet arrived at around 3:30 in the afternoon. She stood outside my door, wearing a puffy green feather jacket with warm clothing underneath.
“Pizza delivery!” she joked, “Your order comes to around 200 gold coins sir.”
“Very funny,” I replied, trying my best to hide my nervousness.
“Will you invite me in? Or are you planning to keep a girl out in the cold?” Violet said. I welcomed her in, as I took her jacket and kept it aside.
With great care I led her to my room. As we entered, she started observing my freshly cleaned room.
“Your room is uh, very blue,” she remarked.
“Do you mean its dreadful and depressing, or are you talking about the colour?” I asked.
“What do you think, Mr. Gloomy?” Violet replied, successfully getting another smile out of me.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked.
She cleared her throat and replied, “Water would be nice.”
Leaving the room, I made my way to the kitchen. Fetching a glass from the cabinet, I started filling it with lukewarm water. Meanwhile, thoughts of doubt overwhelmed me. Here I was, alone in my house, with this girl who was way out of my league. What if I acted a certain way? What if she did not like a certain part of me? What then?
With the glass of water in hand, I made my way to the room. Violet had already made herself comfortable. She was lounging in my office chair, observing the bookshelf that was beside her.
My collection of Harry Potter books caught her eye, “You never told me that you like Harry Potter.”
“I don’t. Haven’t read any of ‘em,” I replied, keeping the glass of water beside her.
“You haven’t !? Why in the world-”
“They’re overrated,” I replied tersely.
“You know Robin, I thought we were acquaintances, but now, we are officially enemies!”
“Acquaintances huh? Is that what we are?” I said. She wasn’t just an acquaintance. I felt like I had known her for a long time. An eternity.
Violet cheekily replied, “WERE! Now, we are enemies!”
After a brief moment of Violet acting like an “angry, tumultuous child” and me trying my best to calm her down, she caught sight of my old guitar lying in the corner. That’s when I remembered. I HADN’T CLEANED THE GUITAR!
“My, my, seems like we our very own Jimi Hendrix,” she remarked. Before she could get close to the dust-ridden abomination, I distracted her.
“Actually, it died out,” I said.
She stopped in her tracks and replied, “What did?”
“The hobby, I mean.”
“May I ask why?”
“I was kind of forced into it.”
“By your parents, I assume,” said Violet.
“Yes,” I said, not wanting to elaborate any further.
She took a seat in my office chair, as her fingers were safe from the unhygienic guitar.
‘Speaking of parents, where are yours?” she asked.
“Out, they’re mostly never around,” I replied.
“Why not?”
“Well, my dad works for some big oil corporation in the middle east, so I barely see him once or twice a year. Its for the better too, he’s just angry most of the time. My mom works as a nurse, so she often has to work night shift,” I answered.
Looking concerned, she pressed on, “Then how do you get by? How do you eat?”
“I manage,” I replied. Trying to lighten the mood, I said, “Besides, I’m like Remy from Ratatouille when it comes to cooking.”
“You mean very hairy?” she joked, as she made me laugh again.
“What about your parents?” I asked, taking a seat on my bed.
Violet seemed like she was expecting the question. Confidently, she replied, “My mother works as a teacher in a primary school. She’s good to me on most days. But, its my dad who’s the best.”
“Really? What’s he like?” I asked.
“Like the coolest dad ever. He used to play like every instrument there is. He even wrote stuff, poems! I’ve read some of ’em. Before he met my mom, he used to be in this really cool band. He tells me stories of how he used to go around the country on tours, the places he visited. Its like he was in a movie!” she paused, as the childlike excitement vanished from her face, “That was all before the accident though.”
“What accident?” I said.
“Two years ago, when he was on his way to pick me up from school, a drunk driver ran the red light while my dad was on an intersection. And, he collided straight into my dad’s bike,” she paused, and after a second, calmly continued, “The doctors thought that he wouldn’t make it for the first few days. To our relief, he did. But, he was paralyzed from the waist down.”
I didn’t know how to react to this, I tried my best to offer words of condolences, “That’s- that’s terrible. I’m really sorry, Violet.”
Taking a moment to recollect herself, she replied, “Well, you can’t change what’s already been done.”
At this point, I felt terrible that I had brought the subject of her parents forward. My mind was hurling all the curses it knew at my stupidity. I was definitely going to ruin this.
Thankfully, Violet decided to steer our conversation to another direction.
“So, what do you usually do for fun?” she asked.
“Uh, read stuff,” I replied.
“How can we read the same book together? Tell me something that both of us can do together.”
“You won’t like it, its strange.”
“Aw c’mon! Please?” she nagged.
“No,” I replied firmly.
“Okay fine! Sit on your high horse then,” she said, as she turned to face away from me. This went on for a few minutes, until I finally relented.
“So, I like to close the blinds, make sure the room is completely dark, and listen to handpicked songs on full volume.”
Before she could reply, I spoke, “I know! Its weird!”
“In complete darkness?” she asked.
“Yes, pitch black. While lying on my bed,” I said.
Without uttering a single word, Violet did something unexpected. She started taking her shoes off. I was puzzled.
“Um… Violet? What are you doing?” I asked.
She replied, “What do you think genius? I don’t want to ruin your bed with my shoes.”
“Are you seriously going to-” my objection was interrupted by her.
“Shush, now do as I say and close the blinds,” said she, in an oddly commanding voice.
I did as was instructed, as the room was slowly engulfed in darkness. Violet had already made herself comfortable on the bed. I, on the other hand, stood beside the curtains awkwardly, trying my best not to look at her.
She noticed my awkwardness, as she opened her mouth to speak, “You do realise that there is enough room on the bed right?”
“Yes-” was all I could reply with.
“So why are you standing there like a twig? C’mere!” Violet said.
I slowly made my way to the bed and lay down beside her, making sure to keep some distance between us. Meanwhile, my bodily functions were beginning to shut down. Here I was, lying right next to this perfect girl, who was for some reason, not at all uncomfortable that I was beside her. Perhaps I was stupid, foolish, dumb and whatever other adjective there is. Why did I even invite her? Why did I even bring this whole “listening to music in the dark” subject to light? Why was she doing this? I was just another fool after all, an unremarkable average, an average who had made the grave mistake of falling for perfection. That makes it sound more foolish than it already is.
Scared out of my wits, I began to contemplate about what horrors awaited me in the coming moments.
