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People are often categorised on whether they are a glass half full or half empty type of person.  The descriptions provide stereotypes, as if we could be defined in such a way.

 

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White

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It was a brainwave.  It came to him in a flash.  He went over and over it again and again, causing his mind to race and his body not to be able to sleep.  Then again he had not slept in a while.

 

Then again, he did not particularly want to.  There were too many things to think about during the day and not enough time.  He needed the night time too.

 

People do not appropriate calls in the middle of the night but he could not wait.  He could not wait to share his great idea.  It was as if no-one else had ever conceived the concept.

 

They did not appreciate being woken in the night.  They did not appreciate the garbled ramblings at the end of the phone.

 

Most of all they did not appreciate the fact that most of them barely remembered him.

 

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Most slammed the phone down.

 

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Most slammed the phone down but he would not be deterred.  Some were abusive but that still did not stop this man.  This was a man on a mission.

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He arranged it all, all the details.  Then he phoned them again and, at that point, it was a fait accompli.  He mithered them until they had no choice.  They had to attend.  Constant calls, e-mails, text messages.  He made them feel guilty.

 

They had to attend.

 

Every detail was arranged.  No expense was spared.  The decorations, the photographs re-published, the photographer to record this new event, the venue, the food.  It was worth every penny.  It was a new chapter.

 

Every penny counts when you haven’t got it.

 

And he had not got it.  Not a penny to his name or to rub together.  It didn’t matter.  It would sort itself out in time.

 

Things were always sorted in time.

 

He did not worry.

 

Even though most of them could not remember him or remember the others, if truth be known.  However, his enthusiasm was persuasive.

 

So, they intended to attend his event.

 

Even though …

 

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They had to attend his event.

 

The School Reunion.

 

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Black

 

 

It was costing him a fortune.  The phone calls and e-mails were pouring in.  Why did they not leave him alone?

 

It was a consequence of his own actions.  That did not excuse his blaming of others.  It was all their fault.  He was inundated with calls and requests.  It was too much and it cost too much.  He dared not think of all the money that he had shelled out – the decorations, the re-published photographs, the photographer, the venue, the food.  If you had a penny for his thoughts, his thoughts were a chasm of worry and doubt.  He simply could not afford it.

 

He had made these decisions when things were different but now the tide had turned.

 

He just wanted to be alone, alone with his exhaustion.  He did not have the energy or desire to talk to people.  He wanted to continue in this state of isolation but the phone kept ringing.

 

Questioning why he had undertaken such a task, a monumental event, he looked inwards and did not like what he saw.  How could he ever believe he was capable of all the organisation, the planning, the expense.

 

He was worth nothing.

 

He had, however, committed himself.  He was on a roller coaster that he had built himself.

 

Now he was at the bottom of the ride.  He remembered being at the top and what it felt like.

 

The contrast only made the depths, the dark times, seem deeper.

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They poured in.  Whether it was his late night calls, his e-mails or simply word of mouth, they poured in.  The decorations were shiny and vibrant.  People gathered around the re-published photographs, looking for past friends but secretly looking for themselves.  They brought laughter and smiles and occasional sadness for the people in the photographs who could not attend.  Re-creating poses from their childhood, photographs were taken anew – the short trousers and unkempt hair replaced by chinos and bald patches.  The hall was just the right size for people to mingle closely without being cramped and without causing people to be lost.  There was not a crumb left on any plate, men rubbing their bellies and pretending to swagger under the weight of so much food.

 

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At the end of the evening, they raised a toast to him, even giving speeches of thanks.  They all looked to him.

 

The dark cloud lifted.

 

The tide had turned.

 

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In his mind he was planning next year’s event.  His mind was racing.  He wanted to speak to everyone.  He spoke to everyone in garbled ramblings.

 

He knew he would not sleep tonight.

 

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