"If you've ever thought of a Blue Rose and how rare it is, you would understand that there's some kind of beauty that would only forever be in our dreams"
8 years later – Friday 09, June 2006 @ 9:15 am
Mother and Father will NOT be attending, naturally. This does not fit in with their social philosophy. But I am not bothered, not one iota. Nothing at our house is natural anyway but it has made me into the man I am now.
I am Canaan Demetrius Black III.
Eighteen years old
The only child of the Second and Noémie Black
Editor of the school's newspaper
Debating Society President
Valedictorian – On my final days at B.L. Roman International School.
"Hey D" The blond head of my best friend pops into my room. I turn in my chair and glance at him and raise one eyebrow. "Are you ready, old boy?" Christopher is always happy and so damn positive about everything life has to offer.
"Always" I am confident.
"Damn it D, you are so different"
He's been saying that ever since we met five years ago. He is a scholarship kid, "less fortunate" in the hierarchy of the B.L. Roman International School popularity pyramid scheme. Only the richest of the rich children attend here but money isn't the only criteria. You had to be freakish smart too. He is the only scholarship kid on campus and everyone else keeps him painfully aware of his status. But that does not trouble me in the least. He is the only one that "sees" me. He acknowledges that I am more than just a title or a name.
"You received your acceptance letter?"
I was told to send out ONE application form to Cambridge (father's alma mater) but I wanted to show him that I was brilliant, that I could get into ANY school I choose. So I applied to the world's top colleges. ONE HUNDRED of them! And I have been accepted to all!
Christopher walks across to my desk and starts grabbing up letters and reading them off, one by one
"University of Pennsylvania"
"University of Chicago"
He drops the pile back on the table. "How many did you get?"
"Damn! Which one did you choose?"
He looks down at me. "Oxford," we say in unison and immediately laugh crazily.
"So which university did you choose?" Christopher's smile cracks for a millisecond and he sighs deeply, "Not heading to university, son, got me a job in sales"
After a very pregnant silence, he abruptly says, "Are you going to Van Allen's Black and White Event after?" The topic is changed and he is still going through my mail.
"Unfortunately. Are you attending?"
"Nope son didn't get an invite. You know this."
"Well, in that case, you're going as my plus one."
"Wait...wait a second, what about Nicole Solange Cerasi" Silence. He stares at me. I gaze at him and say nothing.
"Okay...okay...am your plus one, happy now?"
"Great...let's get out of here and graduate from this place"
"And now, let's hear it for our valedictorian, Mr. Canaan Black" Chancellor Grant's voice booms over the microphone.
"Good morning, members of the board and administration, faculty and staff, family, (quickly I look at the two empty seats that represent my absentee parents) friends and to the Graduating Class of 2006.
Graduation is the day that represents the beginning of one chapter of our lives and the end of another. B.L. Roman International School has been our home away from home for a decade. We have all grown up and grown strong together.
Each of us has had our own unique experiences at B.L. Roman, a combination of good times and bad times, times of laughter and of joy. This graduation has already shown us how capable we are. We have thrived and triumphantly made all our endeavors a success. We have truly etched out our legacy. Bravely we leave our childhood and venture into adulthood.
I leave you with this quote from Steve Jobs;
'Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary. Thank you and good luck"
This party is dull. Period.
I am standing in a corner, sipping on some lukewarm champagne, absolutely and utterly bored to death! The falsehood of these people is drilling holes in my psyche. My all-black Armani suit fits me with complete perfection and compliments my black silk shirt. No tie.
Christopher's in a white jacket suit. No one recognizes him. Which is great on his part, he is actually having fun. I just want to leave. We have only been here for thirty minutes.
"Hello Canaan" Her voice's like nails on a chalkboard. Nicole freaking Cerasi.
"Nicole" I barely glance over to acknowledge her presence.
"I see that you came. Thought you said that you were too busy to attend."
"Changed my mind."
"Okay," She touches my arm and my skin crawl and internally I recoil.
"Sooooo...who did you come with?" Nosy much, why doesn't she just go away already.
Her face turns sour and her hand drops off my body. THANK YOU, GOD
"Humph! Christopher Pope! The same Christopher Pope loser you went to school with. No one likes that dirt poor vagrant!"
"I like him"
She comes in closer to my person. Damn it!
"Sooooo...you don't like girls then?"
The nerve of this woman-child, give it up already, just because I show no interest in you, does not mean that I am gay.
"I like girls. I just do not like you! Get out of my sight, you sickened me."
Pushing off the wall, I leave Nicole with a dumbfounded look on her face. She is lacking, they are all lacking – in beauty, in elegance, in kindness, in courage, in confidence, in intelligence, in humility, in honesty. No one will ever compare. Sure I might come off a bit crazy sounding. I am walking around with only the images of a six-year-old girl I met ONCE in my life; eight years ago. But she is perfection. Isabetha, I love you forever and always.
I am done. I leave the party and Christopher and head back to my room to finish packing my belongings.
A quick shower later, I am standing in the middle of the room with a towel draped loosely around my waist. Looking at half-filled boxes and clothes strewn on the floor; I have lost interest. My reflection catches my eye and I smile. The tattoo across my left chest glows; her name lives on, on me...Isabetha, surrounded by blue roses.