we can never run from history

As much as I dread attending a wedding all by myself, the observer in me was secretly enjoying it. I have to admit, there’s nothing more entertaining than watching people. Meeting old friends and former teacher was sort of like alumni cum orientation - you know you knew these people but because so many have changed, you have to befriend them all over again.

Turned out, except for the ones I met about three years ago, others couldn’t even recognize me. I didn’t bother counting how many but I’m positive that if I did, I’d run out of fingers. And toes. Well I couldn’t possibly blame them; it’s been at least 11 – 15 years. I’m not always good with names but I remember faces and scenes well so I had a great time baffling people. One primary school ex-classmate became speechless cos I actually remembered one of his English compositions… *Grin.

After visiting three different tables full of ex-primary and secondary school friends, my memory machine had become somewhat oiled. I spotted an ex-secondary school classmate at a faraway table and walked over to her. She didn’t know who I was until I revealed my name. The atmosphere was weird and I wondered if she wasn’t comfortable talking to me cos she didn’t wish to elaborate on her family business. So I changed the subject. But it got even weirder, and in my opinion, we had the most troubling conversation ever:

hardshell: wait, I know we were classmates, were we together in sec 2 or 3 and 4?
Jo.C: No we were never in the same class, you were always in the class next to mine.
hardshell: How could that be? I vividly remember you being around in the class…
Jo.C (shaking her head proudly): no, I was in the next class. It’s just that I hung around a lot with the people in your class.
hardshell (it was all coming back to me): No, now I remember. Once in Sec 3, Mr Tan gave us a short quiz. You were seated in front and you were answering all the acronyms of the expressways.
(Jo.C bit her lip. Momentary silence)
Jo.C (deep breath, raised her chin and replied haughtily): no, I was in E2 all four years.
hardshell (wondering why she was denying): Hmm… I don’t think I’m wrong though. Hmm must check the school mag.
Jo.C (with a facial expression that warranted a punch): Yes, the yearbook never lies.

She remained proud and condescending, denying other classmates I mentioned. It pissed me off so much… I knew we were in the same class so she couldn’t be in the second best class as she had claimed to be. Two whole years yet she was denying it... I felt my temperature rising – the onset of a fever. I might not have been feeling well but I was certain my memory wasn’t impaired to such an extent.

I remember her particularly cos I used to tease N.K about her. She was obsessed with him so each time I caught her staring at us, I would report it to him, hoping he would give her a chance then. I remember where she sat in Sec 3… how I’d catch her critical eye each time L.Y. and I were noisy (she was a goody-two-shoes prefect)… So there was absolutely no way I could be wrong.

It troubles me because it wasn't the sort of minor embellishment that people normally commit when writing their resume - she was denying her background, insisting on a history that's untrue. Is it due to shame? Or is it just a way to live a life that she desired but did not have?

We can never run from our history. And the mere fact that this wasn't a case of past misdeed or crime makes her refusal to acknowledge or face the truth all the more troubling.

And she obviously had no idea that she had brainlessly lied to the wrong person.
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Upon sharing it with Mum, I found out she had the same experience with an ex-classmate of hers. Like me, Mum was troubled and dissatisfied. But she did an audacious thing to put her heart at ease. She developed their old class photo in 8R, circled both their faces and wrote their full names in marker, complete with a cheeky note that asked for a reply upon receipt of the photo. She posted it to her friend but never heard anything in return... well not directly. Haha… what a hoot!

So just now, two days after the incident, I decided to take a look at my graduating class photo anyway since I knew exactly where I kept it. And guess what? Not only were we in the same class, she was standing right in front of me!

Indeed, the yearbook never lies.

And I swear I am terribly inspired to do what Mum did.