(Note that comments are more than welcome. You can comment on this story or send me an email via the link below. As usual, bricks and bouquets are welcome.)
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CHRISTOPHER'S SIDE
Most people realize that major events shape one's lives. A few accept the smaller ones have the same impact. It happened to me - the smallest, brought about the biggest change. My story.
Though I am in my late thirties now (36 actually), my wife Rachael and I met during the first year of our respective jobs. We hit off well and went steady for about 2 years. I found Rachael possessing all the qualities in a woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Beautiful, wholesome and in love with me. We lived in my house for another year together. And I found her to be the perfect homemaker.
With Rachael around, I always had a clean house, wholesome food and no headaches, if you know what I mean. Rachael kept her hair long, loved ABBA, peppermints and me. And not in that order. Long story short, we married after that. Ten years down-the-line and one son later, we are in a phase where you no longer have to speak to understand what the other is thinking. My boy is the apple of my eye.
You should see him fight with me for everything. From the remote control to the PS2 to who gets to sit on the front seat with me when I drive for our annual cross-country vacations. But our pride knows no bounds when we find him sleeping in his little bed at night, at peace, looking like an innocent angel.
Every alternate years Rachael and me, attend reunions. Whether it's the reunions from her high school, college or even ones from her advanced education. Rachael never attends the reunions unless I go with her. I love to escort her, to be honest, and her reunions generally consists of meeting good, decent people.
I meet many of her friends there. I can recognize most of them in her scrapbooks, albums, digital pics and whatnots.
While each one has their personality and their own quirks, all of them come across as decent, well-settled and sometimes, successful. Often, we'd come across some man or woman whom Rachael would know. They'd tentatively introduce themselves and shriek when they knew each other. They'd exchange a few pleasantries, trade up on war stories and then move on to the next one, promising to keep in touch after the party.
All of Rachael's friends had spouses. A few even brought their kids along, but they were always the first to leave. But that, I presume, is natural. I know when my son was small enough not to be left with a baby-sitter. He had accompanied us on a couple of these reunions, but was asleep before the party even began. At his age, then, 8:30pm was his 'sleepy-sleepy' time.
To all who wondered why Rachael and myself never went to reunions from my end, it was really quite simple ---- I had no formal education to speak of.
I had a hard childhood and teenage. After learning to read and write, presumably in the first couple of grades, enough to pull on in life, my parents passed away. So I was the only one left to take care of my family of 2 sisters and a brother. All younger to me. I decided against education (Yes, there were night schools. But I was still not mature enough -- or well to do enough -- to take advantage of that aspect) and went to work instead. But since I had no education, I could not get a proper white collar job. And I had to bring my family up working in the construction business. About the only guys who were concerned how much I could handle physically, rather than mentally.
I laid bricks, cemented broken walls, mended asphalt on highways, tarred trails, worked in the sun and passed teenage and most of my twenties doing nothing but making sure my brothers and sisters got the best. Whatever best I could on my meagre salary, that is.
However, life never disappointed me. Perhaps in an effort to even the scales, life gave me something best that a man could hope for. Love. And respect. From all my sisters and my brother. No brother or sister of mine took any major decision without first consulting me. And while that meant nothing, and I knew that would change when they would grow up or when they would get someone more important in their lives than their eldest brother, and that they sometimes went against my advice, it still swelled my heart to see them give me enough respect and love by asking for my opinion.
When they started earning and could stand on their own feet, they began supporting me financially. I'm proud to say that all three were stubborn enough that they refused my offer of not accepting their financial help.
So there I was, in my early thirties, having no work, getting money in my account from all my sisters and my brother. That is when I decided to continue the education I had missed. It felt awkward, I had to admit, attending again. And right away I felt out of place. And age.
But I got my Bachelors in Liberal Arts and decided to work for the first guy who would hire me. Not that I needed the money, but you can only sit so long in the house doing nothing, growing fat on the income of your siblings.
That is when I had first met Rachael. And the rest, as they say, is history.
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So here we were, sitting on the table accommodating twelve, with lots of Rachael's friends and their spouses. And a godawful lot of noise, boisterous banter and chaos everywhere. Seated next to me was Rachael and her best friend, Bethany. Both are quite close to each other. Bethany's husband, Francis, is a distinguished looking gentleman.
He is a poet and his poems earns him big bucks at the European circuit. I thought he was a stuck up prude when I first met him, but he warmed to me soon after. I never realized poets had such risqué jokes in their repertoire. He told jokes that made cowboys blush! And while he'd put on his frigid, uppity behavior when we met someone else, with me, he was like another construction worker. Cracking tawdry jokes, drinking beer, laughing boisterously and having fun. We hit along well too.
We came across Bethany and Francis at most reunions and while they stayed in Europe, they would visit us at least once a year, or they would make it a point to come to our house when they were touring or promoting his works.
I knew Rachael and Bethany were with each other since third grade. And if you've never been tortured before in your life, you should try sitting with two ladies who know each other since third grade and watch them go at it. Everything from the make of the clothes, to food, to the fact the janitor was divorced because he fell in love with someone else to the fact the carpet in this room stank of rum and that the music sucked and that so-and-so was planning to have another baby, was covered between them.
And when they started talking about the buttons, their shapes, the clothes and their color combination on particular materials, I kind of zoned out. Like I said, they were very close to each other.
Rachael and Bethany were not virgins, and already had gone through many partners, when they married me and Francis respectively. Nothing to fret about, as neither were Francis and me virgins when we fell in love and married them.
Because of this closeness and familiarity, they chatted about everything in particular. Even their boyfriends in high schools and colleges.
Among all their boyfriends (they did discuss them loudly) the name Brian kept popping up again and again.
Francis and me were familiar with Brian. He was the only one, whom both Rachael and Bethany had as a boyfriend, years apart, of course, in their college. They were sexually active with him during college. Of course, I had met Brian occasionally in a couple of these reunions. And while Rachael kind of gave an awkward smile and moved off, Bethany generally chatted more freely. A couple of times I also found myself in conversation with Brian.
I had long discovered that Brian was a normal guy. He was married and when he spoke to Rachael or attempted to talk to Bethany, his demeanor was that of an old acquaintance. He was comfortable with them. He always brought his wife, Sable, and both their children along. He always made it a point to speak to Rachael and Bethany with Sable around.
He was settled in Tokyo and was quite successful as General Manager of an electronics firm there. While he was not there for all reunions, he did come by enough for me to recognize him and Sable from a distance.
He seemed to be genuinely in love with his wife and his family. I have to admit, in our earlier years, after hearing discussions about Brian from Rachael, I generally tried to keep an eye on Brian in these reunions. But he always approached Rachael and Bethany with his wife and kids, said hello, spoke for a few moments then moved off to mingle with other guests. I never saw him as much as raise his head and look at Rachael again. Or Bethany, for that matter.
Regular guy, like I told you.
