All Thumbs

Every child is born clumsy, for that is one of the only usuals for an infant. However, clumsiness is neither innate, nor hereditary. Most people shred this trait with growth.

    But, a rare percentage of people, owing to developmental disorders, carry this trait right into their adolescence, followed by their prime youth, culminating into its pinnacular form in adulthood. No one chooses to inherit this defective trait, solely for the sake of negative attention. 

     Clumsiness is of three types : physical, mental and the third category overlapping the first two. Well, I belong to the first one, one of the very reasons why my condition is undermined and I'm a laughing stock among my peers. 

I'm Melisa McCoy, one of the latest residents to shift into Appenzell, Switzerland. Switzerland - the land of scenic beauty, the terrestrial Paradise, the mere sight of which is enough to tranquilize a restless mind, just like mine. But alas! No amount of scenic beauty could ever tranquilize my troubled mind, no amount of love could ever heal the pain that I've carried in my heart since the start of my social and academic life. 

      There is something else, or rather someone, the mere glimpse of whom could overpower any natural or man-made tranquilizer of the world. 

      He is a virile young man - the one I've been stalking for several weeks ever since our move into the countryside neighborhood. Being the clumsy woman that I am, I've never had the nerve to approach and talk to him. So all I could do was admire him from afar. 

      Today, as I stood in my balcony, overlooking the meadows, I watched his colorful personality camouflaging with the flora and fauna. However, today there wasn't the woman who usually tagged along, and that was enough to ease the burden in my heart. Secretly, I focused my camera lens and zoomed in on him, and clicked as many pictures of him as I could. 

       You see, despite my clumsiness, I'm a passionate photographer and painter, who is well-versed in the sinews of these forms of art. There was another passion of mine though - one that I have successfully hidden from the external world. 

The blaring of my cell phone broke in on my trance. 

"Hello?"

"Mel, be ready at 7 pm. I'll be coming to pick you up. Our family has been invited to a charity ball tonight, and you'll tag along. I don't want to hear a ‘no'."

And then she hung up. That's my bosom friend Karen, my backbone, ever since my arrival to the countryside, and the only person to know about my obsession with the stranger and my absurd hobby. She is the only one who could bend over backwards for me. 

      I opened my diary and caressed the slew of paper cuttings adorning each page. I scrutinized our pictures together, looking for the most trivial flaws that would give away its falsehood. 

      Yes, photoshopping is my hobby. I've always had a penchant for creative imagery, so why not steer it towards something constructive that could appease my heart? 

"Perfection!" I exclaimed, feeling satisfied with my latest artwork. 

I scurried over to my closet (tripping twice in the process) and shuffled through the dresses. I was really reluctant to attend any social events owing to my clumsiness. Even though Karen's optimistic and non-judgmental attitude did give me enough confidence, yet I was afraid of embarrassing her, and eventually losing her. 

       I've never really had true friends, and my former hometown and alma mater had a huge contribution in ingraining self-hatred and insecurity into my system. Although my new home and new friend did enough to ameliorate all the negativity in my life, it couldn't heal the scars from the past. But it could, at the most, help me adapt to my pain from the past. 

       I've had a hard time convincing myself and my parents about going to the party. Yet, here I was, at the party, dressed in the best dress Karen could afford. 

       I am already short and chubby, and to top it all, I never wear heels due to my clumsiness. Karen, on the other hand, is five inches taller than me, and wears stilettos, the earmark of her fashion, that she carries off without any hassle. 

"Don't get lost in the crowd. I'll have a hard time finding you," she said, eyeing the throng at the bar, critically. 

I nodded, gulping in anxiety, while Karen's height added to my inferiority complex. Within a second, she disappeared, leaving me alone with her eccentric mother. 

       The silence was weighing me down, so I attempted to strike a casual conversation with her. 

"Is this a charity ball?" I asked, immediately regretting my stupidity. 

She nodded, rolling her eyes. I felt dejected. It was already a bad idea coming to the party. No matter how many parties I might have attended with Karen in the past, I would never grow used to them. I would never be able to socialize unless I grow confidence, which wouldn't be possible if people accept different people like me in their circle. It takes two to tango. 

    Nonetheless, I tried to retain my initial zeal, regardless of the aloofness of the people around me. It wouldn't hurt to try. Someone has to make the first move, right? 

"Will there be a chief guest at this party?" I asked, enthusiastically. 

"Quite obviously. I bet you haven't been to such parties before. Well, the Mayor and his son are the chief guests, as far as we know," she replied, biting her nails. 

The Mayor has a son, I thought. I've never really heard much about the big guns since I was new to this place.

   My thoughts traversed the past, and the meadows floated before my subconscious vision. I wondered if the handsome stranger would be at the party, since he also seemed to be a resident. 

    Well, then it would be too good to be true. How I wish I could teleport to the meadows this instant! It was a distant dream, yet one that did have scant chances of fulfilment. 

     I successfully scrambled towards a corner and took out my phone. Scrolling through the pictures, I smiled to myself. His thin rosy lips and indented cheeks were growing on me. I wish I could hug him some day in person. It doesn't hurt to wish, and I would certainly not trade my obsession for him with anything else. 

A loud commotion at the entrance accompanied by blinding flashes of light captured our attention. A sprucely dressed man with a paunch entered the hallway, followed by a tall man, who seemed to carry a lot of clout. I couldn't see his face. However, from the attention they were receiving from the paparazzi, the guards and the rest of the invitees, I concluded that they were the Mayor and his son. 

       I was never the one to fawn over big shots, but the Mayor's son somehow manage to pique my interest. I was about to execute my plan of mingling in the crowd to catch a glimpse of him, when Karen returned, all sweaty and gasping for breath. 

"Karen? Why are you sweating? And where were you?" I asked. 

"I was trying to explore the foyer and the entire mansion to kill my time while the crowd around the bar dies down, but instead got lost and ended up on the roof," she replied, fanning herself. 

"But isn't that prohibited by the hosts?" I asked, skeptically. 

"Oh don't worry, we are well acquainted with them," she replied nonchalantly, waving off an intruding waiter. 

"But you won't believe who I saw just now," she said.

An annoying screechy sound resounded in our ears. We moved towards a more vacuous spot at the center. We saw the Mayor addressing the crowd from the rostrum, while the young man beside him stood silently, observing everyone. He was indeed the cynosure of all eyes, and had always been the cynosure of all my thoughts. I blushed profusely, looking away. 

"Isn't he your dream man? The one in your imaginations, who romances you in your dream world?" Karen teased, nudging me. 

I was too embarrassed to reply. I really hoped my clumsiness would not come to the fore because of stupidity.

"See I'm always right. You would've missed the boat if you didn't tag along," Karen continued teasing me, while I stood, transfixed by the man of my dreams. 

       Neither the Mayor's speech, nor the blabbering of the blab next to me could jolt me out of my trance. Only when the Mayor's son took the stage, did I blink.

"I never really wished to step up after my father, but it has always been his dream, so I don't want to disappoint him. Moreover, our dreams have a common cause, the betterment of mankind. I want to serve our society and its people. For that, if I need to prove my worth to my people, then so be it. I want to contribute 1 million Swiss Franc to Keller Cancer Foundation," he announced. 

I didn't know what I was falling for, more - his philanthropic nature or his intrinsic smooth accent. The auction started shortly after the speech, while I continued ogling at him. 

      Just then an angry woman barged in my direction, and bumped into it, spilling her drink on both our dresses. My clumsy self held onto my unlocked phone tightly for balance. 

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded angrily. 

"Excuse me ma'am, but you were the one walking blindly in the wrong direction," Karen immediately jumped to my defence. 

I secretly hoped that he would notice me amidst the commotion. I don't know how, but I somehow mustered the courage to steer all the attention to myself. 

"Apologize," I commanded. 

"Excuse me? Do you know who you're speaking to?" she blabbered on and on, while my straying gaze was brought to rest by his gimlet gaze focused on me. 

I no longer felt nervous. I smiled back at him, to be met with a frown in return. Amidst our staring contest, I didn't realize when I had accidentally uploaded my photoshopped picture with him. There was no way to undo it. 

     By then another commotion overshadowed our row with the woman. Apparently, my pictures with him had gone viral in no time. I could see the Mayor whispering something to his subordinates, while pacifying his agitated son. 

"What's going on?" Karen asked, unaware of my stupidity. 

"While gripping my phone too tightly, I might have accidentally pressed random buttons, which caused our photo to be uploaded," I replied nervously. 

"Wasn't it locked?" 

"No. In fact, I was watching our picture just prior to this."

Karen ruffled her bob, and sighed. 

"Do you realize the mess you've created? The press is already outside, waiting to barge in."

I felt anxious. I've never handled so many people, especially because of a scandal I accidentally landed myself into. 

"But we'll fix this too. You will go and give your statement about the truth of your relationship," she said. 

I looked around and saw the Mayor and his son leaving through the back entrance, ushered by their bouncers. I immediately sprinted towards them. 

    The bouncers deterred me from going any further, when the Mayor's son interrupted. The bulky bouncers immediately released my arms from their grip, and took their cue to leave.

I immediately started blabbering words of apology, while he patiently listened to me. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't intend to embarrass you," I said nervously. 

He eyed me pensively, possibly considering the right words to censure me.

"However, you intentionally photoshopped our pictures, without my consent. You know, that's illegal. I could sue you anytime for that," he said calmly. 

His composure scared me all the more, like the calm before the storm. I was almost on the verge of tears. 

"However, I'm not angry about that," he said. 

I looked up at him, surprised. He seemed exceptionally cool in a situation like this. 

"I'm saddened by the fact that you used my dead sister's photographs to appease yourself."

Sister? What was he talking about? 

   It then dawned on me, that the woman he always brought along was his sister. I was at wit's end with my feelings about the revelation - whether I should feel happy about that seemingly potential love interest turning out to be his sister, or feel sad about breaking his heart. 

"She was disowned by our father ten years ago, when he was not so well-known. She left our house, but not her addiction to drugs," he said, gulping.

By then, the commotion outside had reached its climax. The guards could no longer hold back the crowd and the paparazzi. I looked around for an easy escape route while he continued narrating his sister's sob story. 

"I tried so hard to bring her out of her depression, but nothing I did could make her give up drugs. And then finally, two days ago, she died. She died due to drug overdose," he said. 

I fell silent. By then, the cacophony of the voices inside the hall no longer bothered me. 

"I was barred from planning a funeral for her, or even attending one. Apparently he is more concerned about his reputation and power."

The limousine halted before the back entrance. I stared forlornly, as he neared the car. 

"My baby sister didn't even get a proper burial," he sobbed, while getting into his car. 

As soon as the car sped off, Karen came to fetch me. 

"They know you're here. You can't escape from here. Clearly, he won't take the responsibility for something he didn't do. You have to," she said. 

I entered back into the hall, nervously playing with my dress. I always had a nervous attack every time I had to face a crowd. It was one of the reasons why I never participated in public speaking. 

      It took me some time to adjust to the blinding flashes of light. Karen shielded me from the paparazzi and their cameras. Then followed the barrage of usual questions. 

"How do you know Mr. Clark's son?"

"How long have you been in relationship with him?"

"Does the Mayor know about your relationship with his son? If he does, then does he approve of it?"

I was on the verge of fainting, when a firm grip on my hand held me back. I looked up to see Adrian Clark, the Mayor's son smiling down at me. 

"Let's face the music, shall we?" 

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