“Whooh! Whooh!” He quickly blew some cold air to it, right after that pain-expressing sound he just let out. He groaned when he felt the pain on his left thigh.
(Thump! Thump thump! Thump thump!) Right away, my heartbeats gotten louder and louder; amplifying in both my eardrums. (Oh no! No! What have I done?!?) Undeniably, I started to panic.
The two-connected desks were how students were seated, back in my primary school time. He, Lim, was the boy classmate who sat next to me; literally, my desk-mate. I can’t remember much details about that incident but, I could still remember vividly how he starred at me and how panic I was. Was it during my Standard Four or Five? It was too long ago… I don’t know why this childhood memory shown itself in my head, this cosy afternoon.
I continue stirring my milk tea with tea spoon. My fingers acted all on its own, unconsciously, as my eyes were actually unfocused, merely starring to the sky. And my mind was travelling far back in time, all the way back to the moment before that incident took place.
That was the last class for the day, around 1:30pm. I forgot what we were arguing on. What I recalled was that he really pissed me off. (Could it be that he hadn’t hand in his homework?) I was assigned by our classroom teacher as the group leader who was tasked to collect workbooks from my five classmates on daily basis. Lim often forgot to do his homework and often did not submit homework. (Or could it be his messy behaviour had again triggered my anger?) I was and still quite a tidy freak. I couldn’t accept his untidy pattern and his messy desk with his stationeries lying here and there. His pencil or eraser often ‘crosses’ over to my desk – my territory! I would immediately push it back to his desk.
In another half an hour, class would end; we could leave the school and head home. We argued but kept our angry voices to the volume that only the two of us could hear. I couldn’t control my anger anymore. I raised my right arm, held onto my pencil and stabbed on his left thigh. Was it a stab or scratch? I forgot what my intention was. But a three-inch long scratch (that would definitely turn into a scar sooner or later) immediately appeared on his thigh.
“Aargh!” He gave out that pain groan. Putting both his palms onto his thigh trying to reduce the pain he felt. Some blood droplets started to appear along that thin scratch line. (Oh no! What have I done?) I started to panic. I looked into my right palm; it was not a pencil! But a mechanical pencil that comes with a tiny steel tip! My body began trembling. I have just committed a crime! Never in my life, had I ever entered into a physical fight with anyone, besides a feisty spank or two onto the buttock of my naughty younger brothers. Never had I bullied any animals. In fact, I am scared of all living beings other than humans.
I looked at him, with my pale face, couldn’t say another word. He frowned his eyebrows, starred at me with his eyes wide opened. His mouth gaped open but no word came out from him. That unbelievable expression of his, towards me, as if asking me “Why you do this?!?”
When I gained my consciousness, I found myself in my bedroom. I was already home. I couldn’t recall what exactly followed after that incident. Did we talk further, did I apologize to him, did anyone saw my crime act, did he report to the teacher? I really can’t remember a thing. That was a long day for me and I didn’t sleep well, that night.
The next day, at the school, sat next to him; I saw plasters on his wound. I guess I should have apologized to him. What he said next, I can’t remember any. But one thing for sure was that he didn’t do any physical revenge action back at me. From that day on, I refrained myself from being nasty towards him. I felt the guilt on that rash action of mine.
Now, recalling the details that I could still remember about that incident, after thirty plus years… (He was quite a gentleman there, wasn’t he?) He didn’t scold me. He didn’t report it to our classroom teacher. He didn’t unfriend me; nothing at all. If he reported his injury to the teacher, would I get punished or being exiled from school? I dare not think further the consequences that might follow.
The root cause of this incident was my bias towards him. I looked at him as if he is a ‘germ’. Yes, a germ. His school uniform (the white shirt) often not properly tugged in and always have dirt on it. He was quite fat; with thick lips and oily hair. Everything about him just got on my nerves. Everything he did, I found annoying. The issues lay in me, all along.
(How pathetic could I be? To the extent of committing a harmful act toward others. How could I? Oh, my gosh…) Now, I was the one frowning my eyebrows. I took a sip on the milk tea that was no longer warm; I wonder how he is now. Haven’t seen him ever since we graduated from primary school.
If I ever have a chance to meet him again, after so many years, I think the first thing that might come from the clumsy and easily-panicked me would be “Hi… Lim. How’ve you been? Umm… May I ask you a personal question? Does your thigh… still have that scar?” I wonder what his reaction and answer might be, after hearing this. Maybe, chances are, he already forgotten about that childhood incident.
But, no matter what, I still need to properly apologize to him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Thank you for your tolerant in not reporting it to the teacher and my parent. Thank you.”