Point of no return

Bertie woke up. It was IPPT day and he was anxious. He started preparing. “Calm down, you’re going to do just fine.” Bertie whispered to himself. He went to wash up, and had his breakfast of granola bars and red bull (gives you wiiings). He had to have all the energy he needed. He kept shifting his thoughts to what he was about to embark on, rather than to let it slide to what ever happened last night. Bertie went over the stations in his head, making mental notes of what he should do, what he should watch out for. But there was a certain heaviness in his heart. Bertie made himself think positive but he still could not shake it off.

Bertie cleared all the stations, with results good enough for gold. All that was left was the run now. He had to complete 2.4KM with timing of 9min44sec or below. It was difficult, it was tough. Bertie had to prove that he was tougher and stronger than this.

…3, 2, 1 and the runners were flagged off. Bertie was one of the first few, but not the first. He understood his body and knew he was doing well at his current pace. He was 5th at the time the run started. Bertie ran and it got painful, the healthy kind of pain that comes when you’re getting out of breath. It was so much like a fight. After the first KM, his legs were telling him to stop but his mind said to press on. Usually when runs get real painful, Bertie will always zone out for a second. For that split moment, Bertie will make some weird promise to no particular omnipresent being: If I don’t stop running, and continue to run as hard, I will get …..” Everyone knew what it was that he wanted.

Bertie did get Gold in the end. It was a most painful ordeal. Bertie did feel good for a while but the fact that he wasn’t going to any party the next day did cast a shadow over him. A very huge one. It was a very strange thing for to get IPPT gold, Bertie invested time and energy to work out and to keep fit months beforehand. Now that his hard work came to fruition, he should be nothing less than euphoric. There was this group of friends that concluded Bertie was one easy guy to please. To get the results he wanted after all the hard work, Bertie should have partied on the spot or something. He should at least be smiling. But no, Bertie looked somewhat dejected to say the least.

Bertie went back to an empty room and went to wash up. He laid on his bed and texted Clara:
Bertie – Hey man, I’m sorry if I behaved like a baby last night. I was really disappointed though I know I shouldn’t be. After all, it’s your friend’s birthday, and I thought too much… Anyway, I GOT GOLD FOR IPPT!
Clara – Heyyy, don’t have to apologize, not your fault. Or you can get your friends to go Clark Quay on Saturday too? Don’t want you to feel left out cause there’ll be quite a number of us there. Yeah… That’s good, you must be damn, damn happy right? Ha-ha.
Bertie – Nah, not that happy, more of tiring…
Bertie was really not happy. He really wanted to go to that party. And he started texting the rest of his mates if they wanted to go to Clark Quay the next day.

Bertie did mention something about the gift he made and he was set to meet Clara the following day.

Bertie went home and had a pretty lame Friday night. He was off to a friend’s birthday party but he did not enjoy himself one bit. He was such a zombie, moping around, lamenting to himself why he was suddenly uninvited. He was “the saddest bitch ever on a Friday”. As what his Facebook’s status said.

As much as Bertie hated that feeling, he could somewhat sense that he and Clara was getting distant. The messages seemed cooler, or even aloof, as I would say.

Saturday came, and Bertie was on a mission: to make a card for Phoebe. He told Clara he made something for Phoebe already and he could definitely not go back on his word. He woke up especially early because he knew he was slow and needed time to produce something of quality. Bertie was such a girl. He fretted over the lack of coloring materials, that there wasn’t any quality paper to make cards with and that he did not know how the card should look like. Bertie is not exactly someone you call creative and he needs all the inspiration he can get through sights and sounds before developing an idea. After much hair-pulling on possible ways to do up the card, he got off his chair and headed to the nearest Popular store to get materials. For the first time in his life, Bertie spent so much effort on Art & Craft. It was his least favourite subject from Primary School through Secondary school and couldn’t give so much of a damn even when it came to decorating his class notice board. It just wasn’t his kind of thing, he asserted.

Bertie had a hard time making the card. Scissors weren’t his favourite stationery and somehow when everything was done up with glue, it just did not look like how it should have been in Bertie’s head. Bertie is a perfectionist when it comes to his personal endeavors and though it did not turn out as nice as he thought it would be, it was still a beautiful birthday card. It was outstandingly well done. Anyone can see that tons of effort went into it. Bertie had not made a birthday card in a very long time and even he thought it looked not too bad. He was proud of his work and he was sure Phoebe would like it. And hopefully, with a wee bit of luck, Clara will like him a little bit more.

There wasn’t much of a Saturday afternoon left when the birthday card was done. A lot of time was spent on the card but Bertie didn’t mind. While the sun set, Bertie was furiously trying to convince the rest of his friends to go Clark Quay that night.

No such luck. But he did convince this one friend though, Collin. So long as there’s company! Both of them were to be joining this other friend of theirs who was out with his camp mates. They were to be clubbing at Rebel that night. That was the last thing on Bertie’s mind. The only thing that was important to him was to see Clara. Bertie still wanted to talk to Clara and tell her whatever it was that he had planned to say. “Hopefully she’s receptive to me tonight!” Bertie was most optimistic.

Bertie got dressed. And for good luck’s sake, he wore this new top he bought recently. Looking fine and dandy Bertie was! Bertie almost forgot the card when he left house.

Just when he was about to leave, his intestines rumbled and he was sure he had a whirlpool in his stomach. He dashed for the toilet and had a tsunami of a vomiting. Very literally, Bertie was brought to his knees. It was a nasty sight. It was so bad, it … it was just plain bad. (Let’s not gross you out with the description of what happened).

Bertie was completely rattled. Must have been the crazy dinner his dad brought back from the workplace. Once he cleaned himself up, with 2 rounds of Listerine to disinfect his mouth, no less, Bertie went to his room, grabbed a scrape of left-over coloured paper from the making of Phoebe’s birthday card and penned a note to Clara with much urgency and ferocity. He wrote down whatever it was that he wanted to tell Clara. Bertie had not planned to do this but instinct told him to. Bertie never had such a strong hunch, and had never felt more compelled to pen his thoughts, his emotions, and his affection for someone. Bertie had never been more spontaneous and he poured his heart out onto that small piece of orange paper. It felt like the one thing he should do, it felt like right thing to do. Never was he more inspired.

It was a completely strange affair. Somehow after belching all those foul things he ingested, something went lose in his head. And like a breached dam wall, a lot of stuff came out. Surely this must be the work of some omnipresent being: Bertie was completely not being Bertie to be writing such things.

Okay, this note should be useful. I’ll slip it into her bag after telling her how I feel and it’ll make such a cute love letter. Bertie chuckled to himself. And just in case I forget to say some things, this should supplement! Bertie smiled. Tonight should be great!

“I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas was on loop in Bertie’s head on the bus. Bertie was upbeat.

Upon reaching Clark quay, Bertie and Collin went to Rebel to get tickets. 11.28pm, they got the $15 tickets, just in time with 2 minutes to spare. That must be a good sign! They then proceeded to find that friend of theirs who was with his NS mates. After chilling a little, Bertie was off to find Clara. Collin was real adorable; he went with Bertie to provide moral support! With the second reason being, just in case Bertie was given a proper invite, Collin would either get invited through Bertie or, he would go home if Phoebe’s friend weren’t keen on Collin joining. Whatever it was, Collin was being supportive.

Bertie walked briskly. He was most energetic and most eager to see Clara. After all, he concluded he liked Clara a lot. He was hopeful.

Bertie was at Social House in no time. Phoebe was going to be having her 19th birthday celebration here. Bertie sat on the concrete bank, looking out for Clara. His hands were cold, he was slightly nervous. He pretended to yawn: “Ok, my breath is fresh”. Bertie looked around, saw some pretty people and oddly, he wasn’t interested. He looked up and there Clara was, he hadn’t notice her as he thought that was just another group of people hanging outside the club. She was talking to someone and hadn’t notice Bertie too. Bertie stood up and was about to approach her when Bonnie popped out of nowhere and pulled him by the arm back to where he was.

“HEY BERTIE! Hi! Come over, we’re doing up this birthday card for Phoebe, and you’re gonna be writing in it! Come, come, we don’t want to ruin this surprise for Phoebe.” Bertie was stunned by the sudden appearance of Bonnie and her frenzy. It wasn’t until after half a second later that he regained his composure and comprehended what Bonnie was talking about.

“Alright, let’s get a picture of you in the card. Smile!” Bonnie whipped out a very familiar looking Polaroid camera and peered through the aperture.

“Ohhhhhhh! Ok!” Bertie gave a really wide grin with a double “V for victory sign”.

“Yay! Anyway, Clara’s over there.” Bonnie pointed to Clara. “Hey Clara, Bertie’s here!” She cheered. Clara gave a weak smile as she turned her head.

“Yeah, okay.” Bertie thanked Bonnie and approached Clara.

“Hey! Great to see you!” Bertie beamed.

“Hi.” Clara replied.

It was most discouraging for Clara did not make eye contact. She turned her head when she greeted Bertie and then continued to engage in that friend of hers, body away from Bertie.

“Can I talk to you for a bit?” Bertie asked.

“Yeah, give me a moment.” Clara said. She did not look at Bertie one bit.

Bertie felt his heart sank.

“Hi Bertie! I didn’t know you’d be coming! How nice of you!” Phoebe glowed. The Birthday girl did look pretty that night.

“Definitely! Came to pass this card to you. Happy Birthday! Anyway my friends are at Rebel at the moment.” Bertie handed Phoebe the card and gave a most happy smile as he wished the birthday girl.

Phoebe was somewhat amazed by the card Bertie gave. She had only seen him twice, and the first meeting was when she was high on alcohol. Phoebe thanked him and passed the card to Clara, who brought her handbag, for safe keeping before being whisked away by Bonnie to some other place while the rest of the gang of her friends continue to do up the card.

“Hey, can we talk for a bit?” Bertie asked Clara again.

“Yeah, I’ll be done soon, wait a while?” Clara replied. But still, she did not make eye contact with Bertie.

This time, Clara was talking to a random friend of hers who just walked up and started a conversation about the last time he went clubbing and how his friends were talking and laughing about it. Bertie could not have been more dejected. Clara completely deleted Bertie’s queue number from her computer.

Bertie turned to look at Bonnie. Bonnie was one busy girl. She seemed to know everyone there and was taking pictures and talking to everyone of them. Bertie caught Bonnie’s eyes and she introduced him to a particular Clarissa, Rachel and some other girl. Bertie gave a most polite smile when introduced.

Bertie could sense Clara glance at him while he was being introduced and while communicating with other people. Bertie had to show that he was cool, and did not turn to look at Clara. He wanted to show that his attention was elsewhere, and that it was not solely committed to Clara.

Clara continued to chat with other people. That guy she last talked to bailed and now, she was talking to some other person. How nice of her, Bertie thought. He felt so sour he could taste it.

Then, this real good friend of Bonnie came over and chatted up Bertie. Bonnie’s friend was a complete social animal and Bertie was completely comfortable talking to him. That and the fact that Bertie wanting to portray a completely confident and sociable image made Bertie open up more. Or, it was that swig of vodka he had before going over to Social House. It was completely impressive, Bertie’s people-skills, as he talked and communicated. For once he appeared smooth.

Bonnie asked Bertie to go over to the queue and get the tickets with the rest of the guy friends but he declined. “Nah, I can’t, until she agrees...” Bertie responded, looking over to Clara.

Clara turned to Bertie and gave a most puzzling disapproving look. It looked like a frown but there was something in her eyes that said “I want, but I can’t”. But the overall message Bertie gathered was that he shouldn’t be there. Clara couldn’t even bother looking at Bertie in the eyes the whole time he was there.

Bertie thought it was the thing about Clara not wanting Bertie to feel left out because the whole group there had never seen Bertie once in their lives. So he persisted.

Bertie was talking to Bonnie’s friend again and somehow the topic turned to how Bertie has yet to get the tickets. The party was about to start anytime.

“Well, I’m waiting for her. It completely depends on her if I can go or not. She doesn’t exactly want me here because she thinks I’ll be left out with all of you here, but I’m shameless when it comes to meeting new people.” Bertie asserted.

Everyone, including Clara, smiled and Bonnie laughed. That was comic relief to the strain between Clara and Bertie.

“Aiya, it’s okay! It’s just clubbing, she’ll let you come next time!” Bonnie’s friend consoled Bertie.
“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m strong. I’ll get over it.” Bertie quipped, and pretended to look most rueful.

Everyone laughed this time. Bertie had just established himself to be a humorous guy.

Clara was involved in that conversation, kind of. She stopped talking to her friend when Bertie was talking and now that he was done, when Bertie turned to look at her, Clara turned and approached some other person.

Clara made Bertie felt like such a pest.

Bertie grew hopeless. He supposed it was time to give up trying to talk to her.

Clara was still busy with her friend at the moment. Bertie stood around. It felt terrible to lose Clara’s attention. Bertie hated the feeling of losing. He wanted so very much to grab Clara by the elbow, take her to a quieter spot and tell her how he felt. He only needed that and the party can go screw itself. It was at that moment of despair and of Clara’s apparent ruthlessness that Bertie got over the fact that he wasn’t going to the party and to not be having time with Clara. The fact that he so wanted to be part of the party was to be able to tell Clara how he felt. Have a heart-to-heart talk for once. He really liked Clara and believed it was only right to tell her. After all, they were 20 year-olds who should be more than matured enough to take ownership of their feelings, Bertie thought. What could be so wrong to tell someone that you like her? It’s not like I’m even going to propose to make her my girlfriend, why can’t she give me a chance? Bertie was most baffled and traumatized.

Bertie looked at Clara’s handbag. Of the 3 exterior pockets, the right-most had its button undone. Bertie reached into his pocket, dug out the piece of note and tapped it into that pocket. He then buttoned the pocket, to give Clara the impression that he was helping her do up that button.

Bertie took a deep breath and sigh. He touched Clara’s elbow and asked in the most hopeful manner: “So not tonight?”

“Not tonight… I think you should join your friend at Rebel.” Clara replied. She looked at Bertie in the eye and then looked down. There was something about that gaze that was most puzzling. She did look crestfallen for a split second and there was almost an aura of guilt about that. The way she said it did not sound definite either. It was like she did not exactly want to chase Bertie away but had to for some unknown reason. Clara then forced a strained smile: that particular smile that are in those facebook photos of hers, the smile that was given while posing for pictures, the smile that reeked of superficiality. It was either to console Bertie that everything was fine or to tell everyone else that Bertie’s presence didn’t mean anything. Bertie could not decide, Bertie was paralyzed.

Those 2 words did more than enough damage to break his heart. It felt really bitter. No, it felt more than bitter for Bertie. Bertie was absolutely crushed. His mind was a complete blank; he did not even know what else to say. Everything that was in his mind just 15 minutes ago vanished and all that was in his head was to get out of the scene as quickly as possible.

“Okay, not tonight.” Bertie murmured. He almost choked for his throat turned really dry. For once he made eye contact with Clara that night. He looked at Clara and smiled for a split second longer than what people would have had. Bertie thought Clara did look kind of cute that night. Bertie then waved goodbye. He turned around and bid goodbye to Bonnie too.

“Bye Bonnie! See you soon!” In a tone so cheery, yet so plastic it was almost awkward.

Bertie then walked towards Rebel. He walked rather briskly and he did not turn back to look at Clara. His disappointment was manifest, if Clara was even paying attention; Bertie kept looking up into the sky, like how tearful men crane their neck to give the belief that they’re defiant, and that they will hold their head high, amidst holding back the tears. Bertie likewise, was like that. He almost felt like crying. But no, he wouldn’t shed those precious volumes of natural saline solution for something this petty. Bertie did not curse nor swear. He asked only “Why?”

It didn’t take long for Collin to appear and say “It’s ok, man.” to a most depressed Bertie.