Missed Chances

Missed chances. How many times had one wished to go back in time, to redo what could have resulted in a better ending, or even to erase the words that had burst forth from one’s lips in a fit of anger?

Katrina. She was my best friend, my childhood playmate, my confidante and encourager. Everyone called us the Double Ks: Kris and Katrina. Our mothers had been best friends and roommates in college, and remained good friends even after they had finished school. When both got married, they moved in next to one another. Being the only child in our families, both of us had no company of our age except one another. Naturally, we turned to one another for companionship. Our friendship grew over the years. We went through thick and thin together, and shared tears and laughter. She was my rock in times of trouble, and dried my tears when I was sad. She shared my elation and joy when I was happy, and encouraged me when I was had lost faith and hope. Katrina was my everything, and I, hers.

It had all started out so innocently. I had always told Katrina everything, even my deepest and darkest secrets. This time was no different. Between sobs, I told her about all the problems that were going on in my family, how my mother had found out that my father had been keeping a mistress, and how she had decided to file for a divorce. As usual, she comforted me, assuring me that all would turn out right at the end. When we parted, she promised me that she would keep my secret. Of course, I believed her, like I always did.

However, the next day, the whole school was buzzing with the news of my family. My classmates would often be seen huddling in groups, whispering and all the while slipping furtive looks over to me. Schoolmates whom I hardly knew would stop me in the corridors, giving me artificial smiles while pretending to show concern for me. I could tell, however, that despite their sympathetic appearances, they were just fishing for more gossip. I pretended not to notice or care, but inside I felt betrayed. Betrayed that the person I had trusted with my secret had blurted out the news to what seemed the whole world. Katrina… I could never trust her again.

After a full day of phony smiles and whispered gossip about me, I was in a foul mood by the time school ended. Without a word to anyone, I marched to her class and confronted her about it. To my utmost disgust, she feigned innocence.

“What in the world are you talking about? I haven’t told anyone!” She defended herself, looking mystified, furrowing her brow and looking at me quizzically. I glared at her.

“You know very well what I am talking about! You’re the only one that knew! Now it’s all over the school! Who could it be but you?” I exclaimed, unable to hold back the fury that had been boiling inside me for the past few hours. I could not believe it. The least she could do was to admit her mistake, but there she was, flashing me innocent looks and claiming that she had not spread those spiteful rumours.

“I can never trust you again!” I spat out the words with such animosity that she recoiled. I then turned and stomped down the stairs, with her gaping at me incredulously.

“Kris! Wait!” She shouted pleadingly after me. I ignored her and continued walking, turning a blind eye to the gossipmongers that were clustered to one side, pointing at both Katrina and I. I knew that they had probably heard everything, but at that moment, I did not really care.

As soon as I reached home, I flung myself onto my bed, sobbing my heart out into a pillow. I still could not get over what Katrina had done to me, and how betrayed I had felt. A few hours later, I sat up and dried my tears, preparing to go for a walk to catch a breath of fresh air.

Just at that moment, the phone rang. Cursing loudly, I trudged over to the phone and grabbed it roughly, nearly yanking it off its telephone cord. It was Caroline, a friend at school.

I dropped the phone back into its receiver as soon as the conversation ended, and slumped dazed onto a chair. I had wronged Katrina. It had been a classmate in school who had overheard my conversation with Katrina, and being the vile, gossiping knave that she was, she immediately began to spread the news around. I suddenly sprang up again. Katrina had not betrayed my trust, yet I had hurt her with my vengeful and accusing words. I knew what I had to do. I had to apologise and try to make amends, and hope that Katrina would forgive me.

I ran next door and knocked hesitantly on her door. A teary-faced Mrs. Lim, Katrina’s mother answered the door. Immediately, I got a prickling sensation that something was wrong. However, I swallowed my fears and dismissed them as a figment of my overactive imagination, and asked to speak to Katrina. It was then Mrs. Lim broke the news to me. Katrina had died. Katrina, my best friend in the whole world, had died. She had been killed by an irresponsible speeding driver on the way home from school. Katrina had died an instant death.

As I sat outside the mortuary, I brushed away the seemingly never-ending stream of tears that trickled down my cheeks. Katrina was gone. I would never get to hear her voice again, see her smile, or even smell the familiar fragrance of vanilla in her hair. Most importantly, I would never get the chance to tell her how sorry I was to ever doubt her, and how much she had meant to me. Missed chances. It would be something that I would regret for the rest of my life. Tears continued to stream down my face as I turned to walk down the endless corridors of the hospital, returning to a life I knew would never be the same without Katrina again.

Katrina, I’m sorry.