CHAPTER 7: PITFALL
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It’s about the journey, not the destination.
This old adage has been tossed around many times in different occasions. Whoever gave this solid piece of advice is an absolute buffoon. How can one enjoy the journey if it is filled with all manner of obstacles, speedbumps, interruptions and blockages? Shouldn’t one’s focus be on the destination itself. In doing so, the individual does not end up abandoning his quest once the journey gets too tough. Unfortunately, for me, I did not have a clear destination in mind, and my journey with Violet was full of speedbumps, a whole lot of them.
After that evening with Violet, to say that I was happy would not be cutting it. I was experiencing an emotion that was a combination of all the synonyms related to the word ‘happy.’ For the first time in my 17 years of existence, I felt a kind of indescribable peace. Delightful expectations started to fill my mind. I had everything planned out, all the things we would do together, the places we would go to! Life was going to be perfect! Oh, how wrong I was.
October 24th, 2016. It was perhaps the only Monday that I was looking forward to. Violet was going to meet me. It was our first meeting after being ‘together.’ She would wait for me outside the school gate as usual. For this special occasion, I had bought something for her, a rose and a bar of chocolate. It was clichéd, but it was all I could afford.
I awoke from a restless slumber first thing in the morning, as I wished for it to be evening. While opening the curtains to let the wonderful winter sun into my room, I heard a ‘ding’ sound from my phone. Upon checking, I saw that it was a message, from Violet.
“Good morning sleepyhead!” it read.
I replied, “Good morning :) Slept well?”
“Like a baby. Can’t wait to see ya today!” she replied.
Elated, I texted, “Same here!”
“Have a great day at school!” she replied. Along with this message, she sent something else. It was an image of her. Her hair was a mess, and she held a small teddy bear close to her face. It was evident that she had just woken up, but it mattered little to me, for her beauty did not suffer. She had captioned the image with, “Mr. Bear also wishes you a great day!” This was the first time she had sent a photo of herself. I knew that that it wasn’t going to be a great day, but a marvellous one.
After hurriedly getting into my uniform and munching on some instant oats, I packed the rose and the chocolate in my bag. With a smile on my face, I made my way to school.
Time seemed to slow down once I reached school. It was sluggish, more sluggish than any other Monday. I kept on looking at my watch, waiting for the hands to strike three. Throughout the day, thoughts of her bewitched me. I could not stop thinking about her features, her gentleness, those soft warm hands, her sweet supple lips. What I would give just to spend an entire day with her! I was beaming with smiles, a whole lot of them.
“Mr. Hastings!” a voice echoed, as my train of thought was derailed. It was the maths teacher. Dear God, I was dreaming in the math’s teachers class!
Slowly, I stood up, as the bespectacled old man glared at me.
“Why do you seem to be all smiles today?” said he.
“I- uh, I was looking at, uh-” I stammered, failing to come up with a proper excuse.
He sighed, “As expected, you fail to devote even a fraction of your attention to important matters at hand.”
The other kids continued to glare at me, as the teacher continued to speak, “Perhaps you can come up and solve the problem on the board. Or,” he paused, as he motioned to the door, “you know the other option.”
I chose the latter, as I quietly walked out of the classroom. It mattered little to me however, because I had other more important matters that awaited me.
As I stood outside the classroom, the thoughts filled my head once again. I began to question reality. How could such a girl exist? Someone so flawless and brilliant. Most importantly, how on earth did I get a chance with her? Someone as unremarkable as me, with someone who was full of brilliance.
12:09 pm. The day progressed, as time slowed down even further. My lunch was spent watching the hands of my watch tick. The other students must have thought that I’d gone bonkers, but why would I concern myself with such lowly matters?
1:32pm.I kept on replaying her photo in my mind. It was such a pure, unfiltered image. She looked so innocent and naive. The best part was that she acted that way only around me. I meant something to her, and she meant a whole lot to me. The thought made me giddy and lightheaded.
2:30 pm, the final class of the day. Only half an hour more until I was reunited with Violet. I longed to feel her touch again, and grab on to her divine hand and never let go. My heart seemed to pulsate even more with every passing minute, as I restlessly shuffled around on my seat.
3:00 pm. The ring of the school bell was the most delightful sound of the day. I quickly fetched the rose and the bar of chocolate from my bag. Following this, I ran towards the school gate, pushing my way through the herds of students. I was swift on my feet and faster than a speeding bullet. She would be waiting for me, standing there in all her brilliance with that smile.
The school gate was in sight as I rush towards it. However, the closer I got, the realisation donned on me. Violet was not there.
I was caught off guard by her absence. I looked around the school, but was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she’s just caught up in something, she will come in a while,’ I thought, trying my best to reassure myself. My phone was at home, so there was no way that I could contact her. My only option was to wait there patiently, hoping that she’ll show up.
So there I was, with the rose and the chocolate clutched in my left hand. Each and every ounce of my being hoped that I would see a figure approaching in the distance. Much to my dismay, there was no one. The seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes turned into hours. I sat on the cemented road, leaning against a wall. It was getting darker around me, as well as within me.
As I lay there in the cold, I heard footsteps approaching me. Hopefully, I turned to see who it was. It turned out to be a man, who was in his late twenties. He was tall, extremely well-dressed and strutted about proudly. I caught sight of him, as he noticed me sitting sitting on the cold floor.
“The hell you doin’ here?” he said, with a gruff voice, as he looked down at me.
“I’m waiting for someone,” I said, as I got on feet. He took notice of the rose and the chocolate.
“That’s a waste of money right there,” he remarked, as he pointed to my left hand.
“Whatever do you mean?” I asked.
“You’ve been tricked alright. She ain’t gonna come,” he replied, with a mock in his voice.
‘What if-’ I quickly dismissed the thought and started acting defensive, “No, she wouldn’t do that. She’s- she’s different.”
He started to laugh, but it was artificial of sorts. He said, “They all are at first.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Women. They love to play games all the time. Honest guys like you and me, we’re nothing but target practice!” said the man, as he reached into his pocket. He took out a cigarette, illuminating the dark surroundings as he lit it.
Taking a long puff, he continued, “You see, the thing is, they lure you in with sweet words, get you all soft and mushy. Then, when the time is right, they put a leash around you. Keep you in chains! They manipulate you according to their whims and fancies. First its excuses about not being able to meet you. By doing that, they make you run after them, like a dog after a bone.”
He offered me the joint. I refused. Disappointed, he continued with his speech, “Then, after a certain amount of time, they start demanding things, and you have no choice but to comply. Why? Because she has fully tightened her grip around you. Pretty soon, she starts to cage you, draining you of each and everything you have.”
He looked up at the evening sky for a moment, and said, “Then, when you’re all weak and shrivelled up, they toss you into the gutter, and leech onto the next poor soul.”
The man walked closer towards me, as the smell of the cigarette penetrated my nostrils. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “You seem like a decent fellow. Lemme help ya. Do you wanna know how to avoid the situation you’re in right now? How to get her to respect you? Don’t let her out of line. She can’t demand things from you, only you can. Most, if not all of the time, she’s lying to you. She thinks you’re expendable, brother. You are not, she is.”
He looked me straight in the eye, and spoke with a slow, calculated tone, “She is making you a chaser. A beggar. You’re no beggar though. You are a master. Its time you establish control. Control over her.”
He stared into my eyes for a good, long while before breaking contact.
“Anyways, hope you know what to do now,” he said, as he threw his cigarette away, and walked off into the distance.
It was getting dark, so I finally decided to head back home. Making my way through the dark alleyways, I began thinking about what the man said. I knew for a fact that it was utter nonsense, all of it, but I couldn’t help but look at him. He looked so confident, free and successful, like he had almost no commitments and nothing holding him back. Did he really reach that level by practicing what he told me? I knew that I wouldn’t be so easily swayed by the words of a stranger, I wasn’t a child. ‘Chaser’, ‘master,’ it just didn’t make sense. My Violet wasn’t like that. She was different.
I got home at around 6:30 in the evening. To my surprise, mom was home early today, but she was fast asleep on the living room couch, with the television on. She was tired, as always. I made my way to the room, as I kept the rose and the chocolate on my desk. Fetching my phone from my bedside drawer, I opened it.
There was nothing, no messages or any missed calls. Upon seeing this, an old feeling started to emerge inside me, one that I thought I had gotten rid of a long time ago. It was a feeling I had seen many a times around me, one so volatile and uncontrollable.
I called Violet, and after a few rings, she picked up.
“Hello? Robin?” she said, as I noticed that her voice was not cheery like usual.
“Violet? What happened? We were supposed to meet up,” I said, impatiently.
“I know darling. I’m so sorry but something came up today,” said she. Meanwhile, the man’s voice started to echo in my head, sounding almost snake-like.
‘Excusessss and sweet wordssss. Getting you soft and mushyy,’ the voice echoes, feeding the volatile feeling inside me. It slowly started to take hold as it began to quell my rationale.
“What came up?” I asked.
“I- I can’t explain it right now,” she said, as I heard a slight hesitation in her voice.
‘Making you run liike a dogg’ the voice said. The feeling continued its conquest in my head.
“What do you mean you can’t?” I asked, as my voice began to get louder.
“Its- its complicated,” she said, clearly taken aback by my change in tone.
‘Take controlll of herrr,’ said the slippery voice, as all reasoning in my head was subdued.
“Complicated!? You left me in the cold for three hours!” I said, as the feeling completely overwhelmed me.
“Look, I said I was sorry, okay?” she said, trying her best to calm me down.
“Sorry? You think that will cut it? You think I’m stupid?” said I, as my head started to feel like it was on fire.
“Excuse me?”
“You and your excuses, making me run after you!”
“Robin, are you even listening to yourself?” she said, as her voice started to get louder too.
“Oh, I am! And I know that you’re playing games with me! Right from the beginning!” I was burning up, like a fever had gotten hold of me.
“Games? What is wrong with you!?” Violet exclaimed.
“Nothing at all! You’re the one that’s all psycho today! Treating me like some piece of trash!”
There was silence for a moment. After a brief second, I could hear slight sobbing on the other side of the phone. The fire in my head dissipated, as I realised what I had just done.
“You wanna know why I couldn’t meet you today Robin?” she said, with a quiver in her voice, “Its because my dad is now attached to life support with a major artery blockage. And guess what? I had to get him to the hospital all alone, because Mom was on a goddamned school trip!”
Her sobbing continued, as I tried to speak, “Violet I-”
She interrupted me, “But it doesn’t matter right? Because I’m just some psycho, right? Who always treats you like trash. I’m just playing games. Right!? My dad almost dying doesn’t matter, because at the end of the day its just an excuse to you! Right!?”
I remained quiet, as I was forced to listen to her cry.
“You know, I thought this day couldn’t get any better, but I was wrong. You just made it a whole lot better! Have a great night, whatever you want to do. Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn!”
She hung up the call. I tried to frantically call her many times, but none of the calls reached through. I tried messaging her, but not even a single text was delivered. She had blocked me.
I lay down on my bed, as my head hit the cold, hard pillow. I felt like a wretched abomination, one who had just committed an unspeakable atrocity. Like my father before me, I too had inherited an uncontrollable rage. I remember how Dad used to shout at Mom when I was younger. It was ugly and abhorrent. Is that what I was becoming? It did not matter anymore, for the damage had already been done.
The silence of my room was interrupted by my uncontrollable sobbing, as the petals of the rose on my table, remained untouched.
