REMINISCE

THE family picnic is over. Greg has gone out to chill with his friends. Gem is using her laptop by the dining table. Henry and Shannel are watching a show on TV. Gavin retires to his room.

He lay on his bed — his fingers intertwined underneath his nape, his knees form a ninety-degree arch at the edge of the wooden bedstead. He stretches his feet on the floor.

He reflects on the picnic that was just concluded some minutes ago. Did he overreact towards Gem? Or was his reaction normal? Frankly, he is simply tired of his medical condition being belittled by people that don't understand. SCD has cost him and his brother a lot. He had even been depressed—due to SCD—several years back. It was granny that helped him out of that phase. Possibly, that was what endeared granny to him so much. He initially thought he had it terrible; not until his younger brother, Greg, endured worse than Gavin ever had.

*****

Gavin's first loss to SCD was his riddance off of his high school's table tennis team. He enjoyed his elementary education. He barely had crisis when he was a child. He didn't even know about his medical condition until puberty. But it seemed as soon as puberty set in, so did the crisis.

He was topping the leaderboard of his school's table tennis team. His grades were also good. Then during a tournament, he had been struck by crisis. He missed some weeks of school and he couldn't represent his team in the tournament. When he returned to school, he was lagging behind— academically. He had missed some tests and practicals. He had several notes to catch up on. The academic workload was overwhelming. He couldn't make time for table tennis practice even when he tried… he was either preparing for a makeup test, or copying notes, or redoing missed practicals.

Eventually, he overhauled his academic lag. He resumed going to table tennis practice. Unfortunately, his prowess had disintegrated. He had not touched a table tennis bat in the longest. He tried to salvage his skills. He practiced overtime. His coach helped him regain his stance.

Another competition came. He was not allowed to represent because his teammates insisted he needed more time to catch up, he hadn't fully redeemed his reputation.

Another competition came. He was away — in the hospital. Then, the doctor had suggested active participation in sports might have an effect in initiating his crisis. He didn't consider the doctor's advice.

On returning to school, he was no longer in top five of the team's leaderboard. Matter-of-fact, he had started living on past glory. Notwithstanding, he was back to expiating his grades. After weeks of focusing squarely on his academics, he returned to the table tennis team. At that point, the team had no more use for him. The coach had nicely told him off the team.

The coach's statement resounds in his head; "Your health is at stake if you keep playing for this team. Plus, your skills have really depreciated. You've grown unfit to be a part of the school team. I'm sorry, lad. I'd recommend you find interest in something less demanding." The coach patted him on his back before leaving him distraught on the spot.

Gavin had cried himself to sleep that night. His parents told him everything would be okay and they promised him he would develop greater interest in a better activity. Those words didn't console Gavin. He wanted table tennis. He wanted to build his interest there and in nothing else. He had grieved his removal for weeks. Later on, he admitted that was one of the prices to pay for being a sickler. He moved on.

He became a student with no extracurricular activities. He went to classes and went back home — no training, no practice. He pushed through high school like that. He developed a crush on his classmate. He was really shy, he didn't express his feelings. But he stole glances at her every chance he got. Somehow, the girl deciphered his feelings for her and started talking to him. She went to lunch with him, sat beside him in class, partnered with him for class projects. They became close. They started holding hands.

One day; in their English Language class, their teacher asked them to write their addresses in form of a letter. His crush, Tavvekka, had noticed his address and she had told him she had a friend that lived two blocks away from his house. She mentioned that she visited her friend often because they were childhood friends but didn't end up in the same secondary school. Gavin was happy to know she was familiar with his neighborhood.

Few weeks later, he heard a knock on the door. He was surprised because he was the only one at home and he wasn't expecting a visitor. His parents were at work, his sister had gone to a girls' hangout and his brother was visiting a maternal cousin that lived nearby.

He would have tagged along with Greg, except he was suffering priapism. His parents had taken him for a checkup and the doctor prescribed some drugs for him. The doctor had said there was no need to admit him and guaranteed him a relief before dusk. His parents had dropped him at home before heading for work.

Still puzzled at whom the visitor might be, he opened the door. To his greatest surprise, Tavvekka was standing at their doorframe… right in front of him.

"Tavvekka." He couldn't find words to express his awe.

"Surprise! I came to visit my childhood friend and decided to amaze you."

"That's… thoughtful. Thank you. You should have called first though."

"It's called surprise for a reason." Tavvekka shrugged.

"You are right. But what if I wasn't home?"

"In that case, I would have eventually called you to inform you about my failed surprise." Tavvekka grinned. "Do I get an invite inside or I deserve to continue standing here?"

"Pardon my manners. Please, come in." Gavin stepped aside.

Tavvekka stepped into the house and hugged Gavin immediately. It was too late for Gavin to curve the hug. She had clung to him without heed. Tavvekka felt something poke her in her pelvis.

Confused, she moved back to see what it could be.

Gavin—mortified—tried to cover his erect manhood with his hands but that was similar to filling a basket with water — futile.

"Oh my!" Tavvekka exclaimed.

"I swear it's not what you are thinking. I can explain. Tavvekka. Please, hear me out."

"Are you a pervert? I simply hugged you and you are this turgid? Do you always masturbate?"

"What? No, never. I've never attempted any of those accusations. It's a medical condition — priapism. It's an abnormal and painful erection of the penis whereby sickle-shaped red blood cells block the flow of blood out of the penis. You remember my genotype is SS, right? I'm not falsifying this. You can look it up on your phone."

"So you want to have sex with me?"

"No. Not in this state. I'm not horny. This is not excitement, it's an inflammation. It hurts as it is now."

"I can't even believe any of all these. We are too young for stuff like this. I thought better of you." Tavvekka opened the door and stepped outside.

"Tavvekka, please. Tavvekka," Gavin followed behind her. "I swear I'm not lying. Look it up online. I'm not faking it." Gavin reached for Tavvekka's hand. "Tavvekka, please."

Tavvekka snapped out of Gavin's hold. "If you touch me or chase after me, I will call everybody's attention."

"Tavvekka. Please."

Tavvekka boarded a taxi and left.

Gavin returned inside the house. He knew Tavvekka would never want to have anything to do with him again. If the tables were turned, he might have done the same. What teenager would believe in the existence of priapism? Even he—that was suffering the condition—didn't really understand it, he just knew he was suffering it.

If it was possible to cry blood, he would have cried blood in place of tears that day. He wept and wailed. Questions reeled in his mind. Why did his parents create a monstrosity like his genotype? Why did sicklers have to suffer for what they didn't commit? Why did Tavvekka come on this day that he was suffering priapism? Why couldn't she have surprised him at a time when he was in his best physical state?

Corresponding with his assumptions, Tavvekka never talked to him again. She ignored his texts, didn't pick his calls. She moved her seat away from his in class. She wouldn't even wave to him. She cut all ties. Gavin was mortified. Though he had no cause to suspect Tavvekka gossiped about that scenario to anybody, he couldn't muster courage to relate with other girls anymore. The incident cut deep into his self-esteem. He ditched prom in his senior year. He wasn't confident enough to ask any girl to be his date so he had advertently missed prom altogether.

When he resumed college, he maintained his zero extracurricular activities. He had become an adolescent — his attraction to the opposite sex was now huge. He had started bonding with a classmate that offered a couple of courses with him. She was pretty and kind.

Gavin almost lost his mind when he found out her genotype was AS. No way in the world was he going to put himself in a position to produce a child like himself. He would never allow his future child(ren) suffer the same torment he was born with. He swore he would never make such a mistake. He told the classmate that they had to go separate ways.

In his freshman second semester, he met a second-year student. She was older than him but it was no factor. They were compatible, hence, things kicked off very quickly with her. He felt like he had won a lottery when he discovered she had the genotype AA. He asked her to be his girlfriend and she agreed.

It was a month into their relationship when Gavin came down with a brutal crisis. Water was being passed into his bloodstream. Tina reevaluated the relationship at the sight of his ailing body. She told him dating him generated instability because his health was a hindrance to the advancement of their relationship. She bade him farewell and never looked back. Gavin was broken. He had thought he lucked out when he bagged Tina. He had been fooling himself.

The conception that he had a chance at love with only genotype AA ladies reduced his hopes drastically. He had buried himself in his academic work and part-time job during his sophomore year.

During his penultimate year, he vibed with a lady that lived on his block. He had made it obligatory to find out genotype before setting emotions ablaze. She was SS like him. Gavin had ghosted her as fast as the speed of light.

Shortly after, he met another amazing lady in his part-time student job. She was AA — perfect. However, she carried out the rejection this time. She said she had a friend that suffered the same medical condition as Gavin. She had insisted she couldn't offer him the physical and emotional support he would need whenever he suffered a crisis. She said Gavin deserved more than she could offer.

That was Gavin's final straw to depression. He became depressed. He couldn't play sports. He couldn't find love. Did he walk across the surface of earth only to study and work? He was a shadow of himself.

When that semester ended, he visited his grandmother. He vented to her about how lonely and unskilled he was. He told her love was selective and it would never select people like him.

His granny carefully listened to him. When he finished yapping, she told him he didn't create himself. She told him nobody—healthy or unhealthy—will leave the world alive. She said, "your life is whatever you make of it. If you tag yourself pathetic, people will treat you as such. You need to love yourself before anybody can love you. No one will love you romantically if you don't love yourself. Love doesn't select. But love only locates those who possess self-love. How about you love yourself while anticipating romantic love? Live and love because everybody dies but not everybody lives."

The way water soothes a dehydrated throat, her counsel had soothed his soul. He had gone to bed that night reflecting on what granny said. He had to strip himself of the self-pity mask he had entangled himself in. He decided he would.

He enjoyed the rest of his stay. Granny helped him eradicate self-abasement. She asked him to come with her to her medical checkup. When she was finished with her doctor, she took Gavin to the physiotherapy center. She showed him disabled and crippled people that were accompanied by their lovers despite their condition.

She said to him, "don't think these people are better than you. They waited their turn and love found them. But they didn't simply wait, they prepared for its arrival. So should you."

That lesson corked the knowledge he bagged during that visit. His confidence skyrocketed and so did his happiness.

It was some years later that he met Naomi. He had gone to play paintball with his friends. She had also come to play paintball with her friends. His friends were guys, her friends were ladies. The paintball instructor urged the two teams of opposite sex to play against themselves in order to maximize fun. Naomi and Gavin had been the first two to be pelleted by paint. They chattered away while their other friends carried on with the game.

Five years later, Naomi has loved him progressively. She is AA. She is more than he'd ever ask of a woman. He is grateful the preceding genotype AA ladies he met didn't want him. He believes if any of them had wanted him, he might not have been opportuned to hook Naomi. Naomi tolerates his plight like it's hers.

Her family members had tried to poison her mind against loving him. They told her his medical condition warrants a short lifespan. They told her she would end up a young widow. They said she would spend halftime of her marriage in a hospital with him. They said every atrocious statement they could think of. She promised them she would not retreat, nor change her decision about him. She had sworn she didn't need their support. They called her bluff at first. When they realized she would truly not back down, they reluctantly tendered their support.

Granny had been happiest about Naomi's inclusion in Gavin's life. She was glad she raised her grandson to be a deserving man. A deserving man that's also appreciative. She was proud, of him and, of herself.

As for Greg, he wasn't one to bother much about something like Gavin. He was nonchalant and debonair. He had loved playing football but his health had hindered his active participation as well. Greg had found solace in video games. He invested his time in video games and never had to feel his detachment from field football.

Greg is the smartest in the family. Despite losing several weeks of school to crisis, he still managed to peak his class all through high school. How he did that, nobody understood. He never missed out on his video games but they never disturbed his school performance. His social life was also bustling. Greg could extract a degree from versatility if it was possible.

When Greg resumed college, he still led his class. From freshman year—through sophomore year—through penultimate session. Then, a fatal crisis knocked him over. He could not attend a single class in his final year. He was admitted in the hospital through the whole academic session. He received multiple pints of blood. His bones had gone weak. The doctor had said something about his bone marrow losing its potency in producing blood cells. Gavin was too perplexed to listen to the doctor or even comprehend his explanation. He'd had to forcefully understand plenty of SCD conditions against his own interest. But it seemed there were so many conditions under SCD that he couldn't know or understand them all, even if he tried. He was no longer interested in understanding them. He could only imagine the pain his younger brother was feeling.

Greg was basically paralyzed for months. Afterwards, his legs reactivated with the aid of therapy but they were wobbly. He needed a walking stick to aid his movement. In spite of the walking stick, Greg still limped.

It was a dark time for the whole family. Greg simultaneously spent almost a full year in the hospital. He was still admitted in the hospital when he saw graduation pictures of his classmates on the internet. Greg had flung his phone against the wall.

He wailed. He lamented. "How is it possible that I am the smartest in my class but I still merited an extra session? I'm supposed to be wearing a graduation gown right now! Why am I in this hospital rag? I hate my life! I hate that I was born. I hate being alive. I hate it here. I want to die."

"Greg, don't say such. You are hurting yourself." Gavin had consoled.

"My health is hurting me," Greg sniffed mucus into his nose. "My health is damaging me, ruining my life. My medical condition is synonymous to death!" He had sobbed.

Nobody could console Greg. That was the first time he was severely bothered about a matter. They all felt pity for him. They couldn't withhold their tears. Gavin tagged that day the second saddest day for their family, the day of granny's death being the foremost.

A month later, Greg had been discharged. He was back home. But he still had appointments with a physiotherapist. His college was still on summer holiday. Greg spent the holiday improving his motility without an aid.

When it was time to resume his delayed final year, Greg had been mortified for the first time ever. He had said he couldn't imagine the questioning looks on people's faces when they realized the smartest student in the previous set was utilizing an additional session.

The family had piqued him to look on the brighter side. It was gladdening that he didn't have an extra session due to failure, compared to other students. Greg had reasoned with them and braced up.

It was not until the second semester commenced that Greg retained his certitude. At the end of the session, he still earned the best graduating student in his class.

*****

Greg and Gavin have surmounted several challenges. Yet, they meet non-SS people that tell them being a sickler doesn't affect one's life order. Gavin considers that a felony. Why would a sane person judge a situation they don't understand? Demean a condition they've never experienced? He considers such people bizarre.

He adjusts on his bed. His legs are now on the mattress. He shudders his pillow between his arm and his neck. He sleeps.