A second chance.

The morning sun shone on the glistening surface of the windowpane as Jasper tightly held on to the script he had written for a television show.

He glimpsed at his wristwatch, which displayed 8:25. Five more minutes until the meeting with the television show director. He needed to paint a detailed picture of the story he had in his mind, which was why he had written a whole lot than just a rough outline of what would happen.

As he pushed the cafe door, locating the empty seats near the glass window, he pulled the pages out of the file and went through them another time, trying to suppress the anxiety attacks.

“Mr. Jasper?” He turned to his name, finding the director standing beside him.

“Y-Y-Yes.” He nervously jerked. He cussed himself on the inside for ruining his first impression.

“Please, go on. Start with the outline of the show a second chance.”

Jasper rubbed his palms against his jeans, trying to clean the sweat off it.

“It-It-It’s a little longer than you mentioned, is that okay with you?”

“As long as it’s good.” He shrugged with a slight smile. Jasper felt relieved after seeing the director’s expression whose hair wasn’t particularly combed and his clothes, by no means, represented his post as a director.

“I’ll start.” He gulped and read through the pages.

“The odor of medicines lingered around the room as Joelle stared at the cast wrapped around his remaining right leg. The accident had crushed his dreams of participating in the football match along with his lower limb, leaving him bedridden for weeks.

‘Joelle! I bought your favorite snack.’ His mother encouraged him, entering through the door. He had been watching his mother running around day and night in hopes of getting him to be cheerful once again. For the past two weeks, he had looked outside the windowpane and watched the kids in the playgrounds. Somewhere he can never be again.

Lost in his thoughts, he felt drowsy again, the result of the medicines he’d been taking.

Just as his eyelids drooped, a voice pulled him back from slumber. There was a new patient in the ward, one right beside his bed. He struggled to take a peek as the nurses gathered around the child. Once the needle for the drip was inserted, the linen was fixed, and the pillows were positioned, Joelle caught the glimpse of a girl, similar to him in age.

As soon as the caretakers left, she shifted to him, offering a soft smile which he couldn’t return. He felt his muscles not responding; he didn’t feel like smiling.

‘I’m Sadie.’ She grinned.

Joelle shifted his sight to the window, the crowd that walked the streets forcing him into the realization that one-legged people can not play football.

‘Sadie? Are you feeling all right?’ He heard a woman, probably the girl’s mother, asking.

‘There are just two days left in the painting contest. I haven’t practiced it!’

She complained.

‘Sadie. The doctors have advised you to rest.’

‘I will. Can you please bring me my painting bag now?’

Her mother sighed, handing her the bag full of paintbrushes, acrylics, sketchpads, and pencils. He watched as she began to paint beyond an average artist’s skill. Unknowing, he started to eagerly await the afternoons when she’d be done with her medicines and rest, and sketch again.

‘Ever since I’ve remembered, she has loved to pour paint on a blank canvas, turning it into a carousel of colors.’ As she painted the mane of a lion, her mother talked to Joelle’s. He had his ears on the murmurs of both mothers who sat far.

‘Then last year, she fell on the ground while walking.’

Joelle’s eyes were fixed on her art as she stretched the golden line with the paintbrush shaping the lion’s body. He was quietly observing the paintbrush that formed beautiful strokes across the page.

‘Pretty normal, I thought. Until she was rushed to the hospital for not being able to dodge a car on her way back home from school. Problems in coordination, they said.’

He glimpsed at his mother. Her eyebrows creased as she clenched both her hands together. Joelle had no idea why that girl had been admitted to the hospital.

‘Then one day, she couldn’t get up on her feet.’

The girl effortlessly drew, she couldn’t hear them.

‘What happened to her?’ His mother asked.

‘They diagnosed her with cerebellar ataxia. A disease that will snatch away my daughter from me, eventually.’

Joelle’s heart skipped a beat as he gulped. He glanced at the girl once again, this time noticing her expressions. She’d been forcing herself to move her arm, and it seemed like it caused her immense pain.

‘I refuse to believe that. She’s just 12.’

Joelle watched her mother sobbing silently as his mother patted her back. Turning swiftly to her, his surprise grew. She was beaming with excitement.

‘I’m done!’ She raised her arms in the air and yelled. He admitted he hadn’t seen such a masterpiece. He knew not what he felt, but he couldn’t help it.

‘You’re an amazing artist.’ He smiled. A pair of words from him resulted in her smile widening.

‘Thank you. Do you think I’ll win the competition tomorrow?’

Joelle knew she had great potential. He hadn’t seen such strokes before.

‘Well, I can’t imagine anyone doing better than that.’

‘Are you going to come?’

The question ultimately turned him off. He didn’t want to be seen, pitied upon, or look different from ordinary people. But he didn’t want to decline her offer either. He looked at his leg, and then at her.

‘I’ll try.’ He said as he pulled a blanket over his face, lying facing the windowpane.

The next was usual, he’d taken his medicines, attended the physical therapy session with his doctor, and munched down the bland veggies along with fresh juice. He turned to the empty bed beside him. She might have left in the morning while he had been deep in sleep. He watched the clock arms striking 12. An hour until her competition.

‘What’s with you lately, Joelle? Why are you staring at the clock?’

‘I need to go to an art competition.’

He finally decided, gathering traces of courage he had left in himself.

‘What? Where?’ He read her mother’s expression. She was the person who wanted him out of bed more than anyone.

‘To Sadie’s school.’

There was joy on her mother’s face as they packed his medicines and lunch, handing him his crutches. He hesitated until he supported his body with them, striding out of the hospital doors.

A refreshing breeze captured his tangled hair and whispered through his ears. A flow of nervousness kicked in as he watched the people crossing the streets.

They made it to the competition on time. The event was yet to be started as teachers and students rushed across the hall. The smell of sandwiches and tea under the refreshment counter spread across the entire hall. He found a secluded place where there wouldn’t be eyes on him. He could silently watch her paint without attracting attention.

The bell rang, and the contestants lined up at the stage with their canvas boards and paint kits. Joelle felt his stomach flooded with butterflies as he watched Sadie set her canvas on the wooden stand.

The teachers were stating the rules, which Joelle decided not to pay attention to. He had been silently cheering on to her until he saw her run her eyes around.

She might be looking for me.

He thought, hesitating to wave back. Disappointed, she sat down on the chair, rubbing her hands together. Nervousness kicked in as the time started to tick. The stopwatch covered the entire screen on the stage behind the contestants as they dipped their brushes into the paints and started to sketch their masterpieces.

Sadie’s paintbrush revealed magic as she clearly stood out from the rest, painting an underwater scene. Joelle felt himself drowning in the realistic waves of the water, swimming along with the turtles and fishes carefully sketched out in an appropriate distance.

The stopwatch recorded thirty minutes until the end of the countdown. The others rushed to the finishing while her arms danced around the painting gracefully. Joelle realized he didn’t regret coming to the competition, after all.

‘15 minutes left, kids, you’re all doing great!’ The teacher who stood at the large lectern announced.

Joelle watched Sadie, who despite her ill-coordination struggled to deliver her best work. He had been unconsciously reflecting on his decision to abandon his passion for playing football.

Ten minutes marked the last phase of the competition as he watched Sadie slowing down until she suddenly stopped. Joelle creased his brows. Her painting seemed incomplete. Was she done?

A sudden jerk to her body made her fall to the ground, her eyes wide open. Joelle couldn’t think as he felt himself standing up, trying to reach as fast as he could with the crutches pressing against his armpits.

‘Joelle!’ He heard her mother calling as he reached, but by the time, a teacher had been violently jerking her body. He saw her eyes open as she talked, lying still.

‘I’m fine. I’m okay.’ She tried to get back to the unfinished painting, but her teacher forced her to step down.

‘Sadie, please. You’re not allowed to risk your health over this. Please step down.’

‘I’m okay, aren’t I?’ She was smiling, but he could see her eyes filling up with tears. Anyone could see how strongly she wanted this. Before the teacher could interrupt further, Joelle stepped slowly on the stage, picking her chair back up as she stood astounded.

‘Joelle?’

‘You have to finish this.’ With his one leg hung from his torso, he balanced his weight on the left foot, smiling.

His smile intensified her will as she sat back up, trying to pick the brush again. He stood beside her as she struggled to dip the brush in blue color. Every time she did, it landed on the green paint as she washed it again and again.

Joelle observed her endless struggle and persistence, the ticking time clock, and her masterpiece waiting to be completed. Sadie finally managed to place the brush in the blue color paint as the teacher announced.

‘Time’s up kids.’

Joelle’s heart stopped, and he thought Sadie’s did too until she smiled and turned to him.

‘Thank you for coming, I really enjoyed painting today!’

He scratched his temple, questioning her.

‘You’re not worried?’

‘I did my best.’ She shrugged and smiled as her teacher ordered them to return to their seats. Joelle’s mother brushed her fingers through his hair when he returned.

The host announced the three winners, and Sadie was given a participation award for her incomplete painting. Joelle’s disappointment vanished when he saw her being satisfied with it.

Joelle was to be discharged in a week, and he had decided to play football again. He had found a precious friend and his will to live again. The next few days were difficult as he didn’t have the patience to get back into the field again until finally, he made it to the football ground. The coach, after much insisting, decided to take him in the team.

He had seen Sadie cheering him up when he had started to play but after they had won the match and he had rushed to the chairs to rejoice over the news together with her, he couldn’t find anyone except his mother worried over a phone call. Sadie was not well, and they had rushed her to a hospital. Along the way, he had been praying to God to give her a second chance at life. Just like she gave him one.

They reached late. They had declared her dead and given her belongings to her mother, who sobbed over them quietly. When Joelle walked up to her mother lifelessly, she had handed him a letter by Sadie which talked of all the times she’d broken down, decided to quit, and moved on. And at the end of the letter, she wished Joelle good luck with his passion and envied how he’s lucky to be given a second chance and hoped he isn’t wasting it.”

After the outline he had written was finished, he dragged his head back up to watch the director’s response.

“This guy, Joelle.” He spoke. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

He offered a glance at his amputated leg, and crutches that he had placed beside him. He would never forget the first time Sadie had grinned and how it had made him feel. He wished for time to turn back many times. And how, if it did, he would return her grin with a bright laugh.