Untitled

Tony really wanted to talk to her that day. He wanted to apologise for being such an arse by not wishing her the best of luck in her interview. He knew it was not just an interview. It was THE interview. One of the most important dates in the calendar. He was plain ignorant, he admitted.

So Tony braced himself and dialled her number.
There was no dialtone. Her cellphone was switched off.

"Maybe she ran out of battery," he reasoned. A pathetic attempt to kill his curiosity.
His curiosity was indeed killed that afternoon - eight unanswered calls later.
So off he went to the field. Playing football in the rain.
He was still thinking of her.

An hour later, he tried again. Fingers crossed.
There was a dialtone. Yes! Finally.

"Hello? Hey Chelle, it's me. I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier before the interview. It must've slipped off my mind. So how was it? I hope it all went well with you. Well, tell me about it."

His joy of finally being able to pick up a conversation with Michelle was shortlived as it met with a weak, unenthusiastic voice at the other end of the line.

"It was horrible. I don't know," she replied. Short and unfriendly.
"Come. I know you did your best. Jenny said hers went great. What made you think it was that horrible?"

"I don't know. Whatever." This is starting to get awkward, he thought.
"Are you sick? Because you don't sound okay." Another pathetic attempt to make her talk.

"No. I'm fine." You're lying.

Obviously she was not in the mood. There was no use in faking it.

"Well, okay then. I gotta go. Sorry to bother you."
He hung up, unsettled.


That night, he received a message. It was from Michelle.

"I was stupid Tony, my only chance and I blew it. I just felt so stupid during the interview. I know there's no point regretting but it's hard when you can't say you'll learn from your stupid mistake. It feels so degrading especially when I have huge expectations that I certainly can't live up to. I know it's not the end of the world and no I won't quit my prayers. It's a matter of time and I'll be okay."

He thought she needed time and room to breathe, so he decided not to reply.
But half an hour later, he received another message form her.

"Why did I even bother to tell you all this? Whatever Tony." Huh?

Despite being caught all erratic and confused, he replied.

" I don't think I have the best words to say to you, but I'll just give it a try. My dearest friend Michelle, it was just an interview. Nothing is really going to change tomorrow, or the days that follow, even if you blew your only chance of getting to Oxford. You will still be the same Michelle that everyone knows. The possibility of you getting a place there - that's not even for you to decide. Let the interviewers do their job. If luck is on your side, you'll be accepted. And if it's not, then there are still four other universities waiting for you. You're just being hard on yourself. I will most probably suck in my interview too, but whatever. Like you said, it's not the end of the world. Remember in the beginning you used to have doubts on whether you should apply to Oxford? You didn't really make it a big deal. But now you feel like it's the only option, the ultimate goal. I may not know you that well, but I know you're a person who always strives to achieve the targets she had set for herself. You can keep blaming yourself for the rest of the night if it makes you feel better tomorrow. And no Michelle, you're not stupid. Sorry if I'm just repeating the same thing other people have been telling you, but that's what I think."

That's quite a mouthful. He wasn't even sure if his words could do the trick.
Patiently, he waited for her reply.
There wasn't any.

That night, Tony had a conversation with the voice in his head. He always does that when he has troubles or feeling restless over something which involves himself.

Tony thought the cold treatment he received was very painful. Everybody has their share of misfortunes. Other candidates who attended the interview must've felt the same way too. He thought she was just making a big deal out of it. Okay, fine. He understood the fact that with Michelle, expectations are always high. But the higher you aim, the lower you will fall if you miss the target! You should've prepared yourself when you first set the aim you know. Somehow he felt that he was very much affected by this. This is unfair. Well, theoretically, you have nothing to do with this, so don't even bother. She'll probably feel better without you pestering her so much.

Well, some fact checks:
Both of them:
-are in the same class.
-live in the same neighbourhood.
-are in the same club.
-used to have part time jobs together.
-are somewhat very close friends.
-have seen the best and the worst in each other.
There are other things that can relate both of them as well, but there are just too many to be mentioned here.

He couldn't give in just yet.
So before he went to bed, he made a card to give to Michelle the following day - just to make her feel better.
An inspiration he collected from his high school years.
It wasn't the most beautiful card he had seen. But it's the thought that counts, right?


He was early for class the following morning. He planned to take advantage of the situation. Michelle sits next to her in the class. Perhaps he should put the card under her table, hoping that it would get her by surprise. Or maybe not. Too late, everyone had entered the room.

He wasn't really listening throughout the lesson as Mr Hessleback talked about the difference between mens rea and actus reus. His mind was too occupied with questions on how he should give the card to her. Should I just put it in her bag if she's out for a five minute break? Or should I walk with her after class and hand it to her instead?

Michelle did not even bother to look at him and say a word from the moment she sat next to him. That is so unlike her. He, on the other hand, did not dare to start a conversation. Perhaps it was his ego who got the better of him. And before he knew it, the class was over. Walk with her!

She seemed like she was in a rush, hurriedly packing her stuff and making her way out through the front door. He soon followed, slowly approaching her. Now is the time. Suddenly her hand reached for her cellphone in her orange handbag and picked up a call. Either that, or she was just pretending to have a great conversation by projecting her laughter just loud enough for Tony to notice. Great. Just great. She was avoiding me. A major blow. A big let down. A very painful fact to bear.

He finally retreated. His efforts had to go to waste.
Tony lost the plot, indulging himself in the agony of defeat.
But he moved on. It's not the end of the world.
For a moment, he thought he could relinquish his grip on the problem.
Then he went back home.







And started writing this post.