Having future knowledge is both overrated and underrated. It is underrated because whatever you do, just by existing you are going to change impossible number of small things. You can always choose to use this to your advantage. You can easily prevent things of great importance from happening by changing many small things. You can touch the lives of countless people by small acts of kindness.
Do you remember that maternal uncle who lost the custody of his children and almost died due to depression after he lost his wife to cancer?
The aunt that lost three infant children to neonatal complications, lost her perfect figure due to extended cortisone treatment and lost her marriage to a cheating scum?
What about that one friend from modern dance school who commit suicide after a toxic relationship?
The barely legal girl who was gang raped and became the town slut after running away from home with her boyfriend?
You can touch so many lives, change so many thing with just small acts of kindness that it is mind blowing. Of course, you still can't get everything you want. Life is not a game where you press the correct buttons to clear levels. But the hardest lesson to learn as an adult is, 'You simply can't protect someone from himself or herself.' Sometimes there are no ways to help.
My room punishment was everything I hoped for. I was served lunch and dinner in my room, mother's courtesy. She was absolutely elated to see me on the table writing. I guess everyone assume you are studying when they see you are reading or writing something they can't read or understand.
Only my elder sister interrupted my self imposed exile with a few well placed jabs but retreated in defeat when she couldn't get the reaction she expected. I was the embodiment of the regretful nerd through the day and my parents were exceptionally pleased with my mature demeanour and dadicated writing. Regardless, I was not given any explanation about my father's talk in the principal's office.
I have entered the bed early at 8 o'clock, and spent a few hours in thinking, disguised as reading. I don't know when I fall asleep or who turned the lights off or put the encyclopedia on the table, but I was tucked in pretty neatly when I finally woke up at exactly 06:32 a.m. after a dreamless sleep. At this point, I was definitely sure that this was my 12 year old body.
From as early as I can remember untill I left home for collage at 17, I woke up at exactly 06:32 a.m. without the need of an alarm regardless of how tired I am or when did I sleep. My school was a 15 min walk away from the apartment and started at 08:00. There was more than enough time to get ready for the school but instead of dinner it was breakfast that is mandatory in our home, thus it took some time. My mother and father take turns to prepare a Mediterranean breakfast weekdays which was usually servet at 07:00.
Despite being mid-September it was still too hot and humid, and my morning routine started with a brief shower. I couldn't stop checking my urchin hair again and again in front of mirror. It would take at least two weeks for it to be at a length that could be considered presentsble, a month more likely.
Having open room policy often meant having no privacy and my sister especially loved to sleep in and barge into the bathroom while I was still in the shower. As usual, she was still asleep when I started my morning routine.
I took a brief cold shower and left the bathroom to spare myself the embarrassment and went to the kitchen with a faded t-shirt and bermuda shorts. It looks like today was my mother's turn to prepare the breakfast and right at the moment I enter the kitchen she was brewing some kind of TEA.
'Blashemy! Damn father, you destroyed this family. I must find a way to access my morning dose of caffeine. I can't stand this torture for five years.'
One thigh about having financial independence was the freedom it provides. Once you start living on your own terms it was almost impossible to live on someone else's.
"Good morning, mom." I flanked the image of my mother and tiptoed to kiss her on the cheek. "Where is dad?"
"Oh!" Startled, she answered with a smile. "He went to buy fresh bagels." Then she frowned a little and added. "Today, you are going to school together."
'Bagels with Mediterranean breakfast.' I tried not to frown. 'Great!'
"OK!" I agreed like it was not my problem and started helping without saying anything else. Help offered would always be rejected. Help given, seldom.
It startled my mother like everything else I did, just like yesterday, but she didn't say anything despite raising an eyebrow dangerously. Still, the message was clear. I was under suspicion.
Later in life, I came to terms with the fact that, both my mother and wife find me impressionable. I always wanted to think that I was the adaptive one not the impressionable. But two of the most important women in your life can't be wrong about the sigle thing they both agree in all their lives, right? Thus, I was relatively more sheltered than even my sister in some aspects. Regardless, my newfound maturity was a new and dangerous thing in the eyes of my mother.
'Let's see if there is going to be a 'deux ex machina' moment if she became too suspicious.' I thought. Just another experiment...
The breakfast was served with bagels at exactly 07:00 and I have realized that I didn't have a watch at this point in time, something that must be addressed as soon as possible. Even when everything was ready, my sister was still not up. Thus I, the younger child who wake up even without an alarm clock, was sent to wake up the older one that can't even with one, like always.
It was just another thankless job to find creative and cruel ways to wake my sister up as a retaliation of her lack of respect to my dignity and personal space, then survive her wrath. Alas, this time around I was just too old for that stuff, and simply went to her room, open the curtains, sit at the edge of her bed and give a kiss on the crown of her head with a 'Please wake up, the breakfast is ready.' Interestingly, it worked better than ice water and air horn.
The breakfast was soon over and we were walking towards the school with my father. Surprisingly, my schoolbag was at home again. My father took it when he went to the school yesterday and he was carrying it for me right now. The walk was a silent one for me, but not for my father. He greeted at least ten small business owner, and have some small talk with roughly half of that number. Now, this was the network I was talking about. The drawback on the other hand was, the time it took. We spent far more than half an hour, almost three times the normal amount to reach the school. By this time, I had the chance to meet my late half uncle, Matthew, again. The second dead men walking...
Uncle Matthew was shorter and thinner than my father but still resembled his mother's side of the family, unlike his brother, Solomon, who is the odd one out. I didn't contribute the small talk much and only greeted people out of courtesy. It was already much more than what I did in my first time around. It only took a few people to frustrate a child to continue walking and leaving his father without greeting anyone. Young and stupid... I at least tried to memorize the names and faces of the people this time.
When we arrive the school, we neither go to the principal's office nor to the classroom. We went directly to the teacher's longue and the obedient child as I am, I waited on the outside. I checked each and every theacher that enter the longue to remember their names and faces with no avail. Most were unfamiliar faces with only a handful of names. Unfulfilled potential...
It took more than ten minutes, and only after the school bells rang my father left the longue with my homeroom teacher. He gave the school bag to me and left. Nothing spoken between him, me and Mr. Jones. It was a weird arrangement where I was not deemed worthy enough to be informed about the consequences of my actions. Considering this was the best middle school in the city, and not only my father but also even Mr. Jones didn't feel the need to explain anything to me, It was given that something fishy was happening, just like the first time around.
By the time we arrived to the classroom door the second bell has already rang and Mr. Jones talk the first time.
"Last row next to window." He said curtly, without even looking at me, "Sit the empty seat.", and walk towards his own seat without any explanation.
Thus, I walked towards the end of the classroom and sit the empty seat, right next to Desiree Johnson, my first crush ever.