The House Of A Personal History

I drove past a house today.

This in itself has no special meaning. We've past by hundreds upon hundreds (if not thousands) of houses. They are mere structures. Just a collection of (sometimes decaying) brick and wood. Some have gardens that have not been tended to. Some have disheveled front porches and lawns. Some look unwelcoming and others all too willing to invite us in for a cup of tea.

All, every single one of them and whatever form, possess their own private histories. Have you ever sat in a park or taken a walk and wondered about the life of a person you witness entering their home? Once they insert the key and walk in what is the course of their history?

You have to actually stop and think to wonder about such things.

That was the case today with the house I drove by. Growing up, it belonged to a casual friend of mine. He wasn't a close friend (he was one year old) but we were close enough thanks to a solid bedrock of mutual friends. His friends were my friends and vice-versa which made us blood-brothers of sorts.

Many of us were in the sports fraternity. He played hockey. I played soccer. We each played both sports. I think we may have even been on the same broom ball team.

One year, he decided he was going to throw the a big party. It was by invitation only. The surest way to ensure only the cool and desired were to show up. Build demand. Make entry scarce. That's the secret to a great party. At 16 he understood this.

For days people were anxious. They wanted to be invited. Speculation was at a fever pitch. "I hear so and so is not invited!"

Oh, the horror! Reputations were going to be made or broken on this night.

I wasn't sure about whether I was going to make the cut. I always lived life with one simple motto: "You never know. And I certainly don't know much."

We all knew who the "sure bets" were and who the "outsiders" were. But what of all those in the middle? Those people who teetered between cool and not cool?

I've always held a close affinity for the "alternatives." The quirky if you will. I would find girlfriends in most unlikely places. A few times I am proud to say, I uncovered gems not appreciated by the masses.

One girl I dated was so below the radar screen I had to present her to my friends while she was on the cat walk for a fashion show. I'll never forget my buddy's face when I pointed to her. I hear she became "Miss Philippines" for the local chapter years later. But for one shining night we both looked like stars as we walked out of the school after the show.

I always felt uncomfortable for the forgotten. Not that I did anything about it. Sometimes I did turn a blind eye when a person was unfairly picked on. But other times I would offer a word of encouragement. To let them know I wasn't like the others.

For some reason, even the tough guys saluted me in the morning. I guess I just knew how to tread that murky line.

Lucky me.

The day he methodically handed out the invitations the school was tense - more than the day of final exams.

The school bell rang. I hadn't received mine. We lived nearby each other and shared the same bus ride home. There, he handed the remaining invitations. Verbally. He looked to my gang and said, "Hey, see you guys at the party. Alessandro, I hear you popped two goals the other day on that bad knee."

"I did."

"Sandro is the best soccer player with no future!" one of my buddy's shouted. Everyone laughed.

With that, we enjoyed the rest of the ride home.

I made the cut.

The conversation went on in the bus. "Mirella is seeing Rob," I was told by a friend.

That surprised me. Mirella was one of those smart, elegant girls. Way wiser than her years. She used to fix all my mistakes in Grade Six to skew my grade in my favour. I had a crush on her but never acted on it. She once asked me to dance to "Ripples" by Genesis in junior high. Like a fool, I refused. Too immature to accept a dance.

I found out years later she had a crush on me too. A missed opportunity for love.

What was relief for somes was internal grief (I can only surmise) for others. The kids who didn't get invited looked straight away.

The night of the party we all hung out at my place until it was time to go. I was anxious to see who Mirella was dating. When I saw him I was disappointed in her choice. I didn't know she liked big dumb, guys with a penchant for violence.

But that was nothing to what I witnessed later. One of the so-called nerds who lived just down the street crashed the party. It was a loud night so probably at the insistence of his parents he decided to pass by. Why not? Nobody would dare send someone back home?

People were moving in and out of the house. The part was as much outside as it was inside. There was no flow or any way to keep tabs of who was there. It was a good gamble on his part.

Sadly, he was told to leave. I couldn't believe it. He quietly turned around and went home. What went through his mind? What did he tell his parents? What happened stayed with me for a long time. I was helpless. I had no leverage to persuade the powers that be to have him enjoy the night.

It turns out, the party wasn't all that great. It was just a loud mess.

Mirella left early and so did I.

I looked in my review mirror and continued on home.