A dreadful result

Boris sits alone with an envelope in his hand. His body has the structural integrity of jelly because of what the envelope holds inside. He perspires like a sprinkler not knowing how he can possibly convey this terrible news to his family. His veins a concoction of blood, and anxiety. Boris wipes his brow and sees an ocean of sweat on his hand.

“Shit.” He murmurs to himself.

“What should I do? Maybe I shouldn’t tell them.”

“But they’d kill me if they find out I lied.”

“Are you stupid? They already know about it. They are definitely going to ask about it.”

Boris’s thoughts are digging a deeper hole than he is already in.

Whilst lost in thought, he notices that his car has been waiting for him for the past five minutes. He briskly gets up and clutches the envelope like a murderer choking his victim. He hates this piece of paper for it may just signify his end.

He opens the door to his car, gets inside and closes it with the strength of Hercules. A loud bang causes his driver to turn, and ask “are you alright Master Boris?”

Boris does not reply. He simply nods and signals the driver to go home. The driver obliges.

The coolness of the Rolls Royce’s air conditioning does nothing to stop the sweat. It is as though Boris is the eternal flame in the middle of a tundra. He catches the drivers’ eyes looking at him from the rear-view mirror. As their eyes meet, the chauffers’ gaze darts back towards the road.

“Is it really that noticeable? If he can tell, then my family will know something bad has happened.” Boris springs into action. he tries to conceal his sorry state as much as he can. He grabs a tissue from the compartment and does his best to wipe away the sweat from his face. He wipes and wipes, using one tissue after the other. Each time the tissue soaks liters of sweat and disintegrates. His body is a bottomless tank of liquid it seems. The only difference the wiping makes is leaving tiny shit shaped pieces of tissue. It does nothing to lessen the rivers forming on his face. Boris gets frustrated and, in that moment, he notices his pits. His body’s admirable ability to dump sweat has caused his white shirt to become wet starting from his underarms all the way to the outskirts of his chest.

Anger floods Boris. It gets the better of him. He behaves like a 4th grader. He stomps the seat in front of him. each kick causing the seat to shake like Mount Vesuvius. The driver smiles at this outburst. Boris witnesses this infraction and launches an assault of colorful language at the man. The drivers’ smile evolves into a scorned look of anger. He does not reply out of fear of losing his position.

Boris finally reaches home. Every step he takes towards the door gets smaller and smaller. Maybe he may never have to enter by lessening his stride. Alas one cannot interfere with his own destiny. He reaches the door and rings the bell. He waits for judgement. What will happen? How will his parents deal with his awful result?

Suddenly! The door opens gently. His body experiences a strong jolt. Boris expects his mother long tongued and sharp toothed to eat his 10 year old body in one fell swoop because of the horrendousness of his grades. His mother greets him gently and warmly. Boris is taken aback. The boy waits for a moment and rushes to hug his mother thanking her in his heart for not eating him alive.

“Could it be?”

“Have they forgotten today is result day?” the child thinks to himself.

His mother reciprocates his embrace and hugs him tighter. However, she says to him “go upstairs, your father is waiting to see your result. I’m sure you did so well!”

With these words Boris’s whole world crashes down. His eyes wide like an owl. He gulps like a 1940s cartoon character and meekly replies, “yes mommy.”

The boy trudges upstairs. Head parallel to the ground as he makes his way up to his father.

His mother watches him go upstairs wondering why her child is so blue. He makes his way to the master bedroom and his mother watches him shut the door. She hears Boris greet his father and proceeds to go back to her work.

The house falls silent. Mother is busy cooking. She starts hearing muffled noises from her master bedroom. She wonders what they are talking about. Her attention diverts back to cooking. Again, her ears catch loud sounds from the room. Her curiosity guides her towards her room. She places her right ear to the door and hears Boris crying whilst her husband asks him sternly “I can’t even understand how you were able to do this badly! This is impressively bad son.” Mother giggles to herself. Remembering her youth and being scolded by her mother for the same reasons.

She thinks to herself, “my boy turned out just like me ehh?”

A chair in the room scrapes against the floor and a boy’s feet are heard running towards the door. Mother transitions from a smile to a face of disappointment as the boy rushes out of the room. The door swings open. She sees her son tomato faced and teary eyed. She says to him in a somber yet motherly tone “I’m really disappointed in you Boris. I thought you did so well this year. That’s what you had been telling me the whole time. Go to your room! I’ll see to you later!”

Her husband walks out, and she asks him, “how bad was it?”

He responds, “have a look. He failed everything somehow.”

Surprised she says, “what?! Well, he’s surpassed me in that department.”

Her husband laughs softly and says, “we’ve got to be a bit harder on the boy. He’s becoming a bit of a snot.”

She nods in agreement, and the two discuss how to deal with their boys’ behavior.