The Perfect Boy

The Fateful Day - 3

My thoughts were reeling, I hated how I felt toward him. I knew as he spoke, he was expecting that I would give him response of some kind. But no words came out of my mouth. My brain had gone hay-wired and turned berserk. I could not believe what was happening to me.  I was sure I looked like a donkey to him.

I remembered how my parents reared me. Every thing about me had to be spotless. Every thing I did had to be unblemished. I could not miss taking 2 showers a day. My hair had to be combed in a certain way so as not to make me look like a rebel, I had to wash my feet before jumping into bed  and as I entered puberty my face had to be perfectly groomed. My room was immaculate. My clothes had always to be unstained and unsoiled. My GPA was perfect to the second decimal. I had to sit upright at the table during meal; no slouching, no elbows touching the table, napkin had to shield me like a breast plate, no opening of mouth when chewing, no talking, not even murmuring when mouth was full. It was expected of me to be and perform as my parents imagined and I was being the perfect son to obey them after all.

Now, this one thing clearly bothered me.  This one flaw that I suddenly had.  I had no idea why it happened. It was like some thing took control of me. As he was waiting to hear my response, I felt cold sweats all over me. I felt my shirt was getting damped, especially under my pits.

He actually spoke simple words. No words that I could not discern, no expression that I could not take in lightly, no jokes that I could not counter, that was if I were not in a total mess like I was in today. He explained himself and simply thanked me for giving one of the greatest speeches he had heard, he said – wait until I gave him a collection of my other speeches. But then, he explained that he was always a great fan of mine since freshman year when I started making other people know of my presence in school. He had always liked my speeches, he said. He was so proud of me for participating in competitions, he said. He had always wished he could be friends with me, he said. He liked me being the cool person (haa! what I had always thought of myself) I was, he said.

Those common words caused an unusual commotion in my heart.  Similar words had been mentioned before by other people, but none had a so profound effect as his.   They were like a deer passing on a rail track and I was the train that was going to be derailed any time soon. I stammered and sweated. My stomach knotted. And I gave him the best response that I could.   That response would be a great response if it came from an eleven-year old boy!  But when it came from a 17-year old handsome lad, it would be worthy of social suicide.

I knew I should not stand near him any longer. The auditorium was getting emptier by the minute as people made their way out of there. So, I excused myself, telling him I had to be at a place, which of course was a total lie and that someone was expecting me, which, of course, was another total lie.

Before we parted, he asked me for something that would later prove to be the tool of my demise as our relationship progressed – my cell phone number and my social media information.

I stuttered as I gave him number by number, letter by letter. Stuttering had gone down the bin long agoooo in my life.    I did not know if he could sense my nervousness, because he simply grinned and nodded, and thanked me.  One tap on my shoulder crumbled me down.

I was relieved when the conversation ended and we parted, so I could bury my head under the sand.

From a far, I heard him say :"I will missed-call you, so you will know it is me.  My name is Osaka, by the way." And he turned abruptly toward the cafeteria.

Osaka Liem Takahashi, the name that was soon to be the name above all names on my list of people that mattered. The name that would cause me damage to this perfect facade and bring me happiness at the same time, soon and very soon.