Robert was on his way to the class reunion, the first time hed seen his old schoolmates in thirty years. After leaving secondary school hed immediately moved to another city for university, then stayed on for work. Later he started his own firm, chasing higher earnings, and endured the usual ups and downs.
Every now and then he missed the lads from his teenage years. In his spare moments he scrolled through their pictures on social media and posted a few of his own. Above all, he longed to see Poppy. Back in school hed been smitten with her, but Poppy never gave him the time of day. She found the studious, quiet type rather dull. The last time he offered her a bouquet, she hopped onto the back of Jamess motorbike, barely glancing at the flowers, and sped off, kicking up a cloud of dust. He never approached her again and watched the bike disappear down the road. He had wanted to ask her to ride with him, to help her, but he never did.
Robert hadnt kept many close friends at school; most of his time was spent studying. He only hung out with a handful of classmates who joined him for extra maths tuition and crammed together for the entrance exams.
He arrived at the reunion in high spirits, carrying a small present for each former classmate, making sure none were forgotten. They gathered in a cosy café, laughing and reminiscing about the old days. Roberts eyes kept drifting to Poppy, who sat at the far end, glued to her phone. After school shed married James, but, as Robert learned, they no longer lived together and she was now raising a sick child on her own.
Determined to talk, Robert approached her, only to be met with sharp words.
You live in that manor and have no idea what were dealing with! Ive seen your house. Your wife does nothing but go to beauty salons. You must have a lot of staff, even if you never show them in your photos. Your kids study abroad while I care for a sick son. What could we possibly discuss? You wouldnt understand.
Robert, am I the cause of your troubles? Poppy snapped.
In this country there isnt enough funding for sick children, yet people like you sit on your wealth and act greedy!
Robert felt a heat rise in his cheeks. He didnt like the topic being brought up and had a reply ready.
How many sick children have you helped, Poppy?
I have my own sick child! And sometimes I send a text offering help.
I regularly donate large sums to charities, but I never brag about it. So, whos really being helpful here?
Its simple for you you dont feel poorer after giving an extra hundred thousand pounds. My help counts more because I literally give up what I eat to raise money. Do you know how I earn it? Every morning I catch two buses to work and scrape together pennies!
A few onlookers nodded at Poppy, others fell silent.
Robert left the table, leaving the gifts for his former classmates and asking the waiter to hand a envelope to Poppy. As he walked away he thought about how theyd all had the same chances, the same talent. Hed chosen studying over drinking ale in the back garden, over smoking at the corner, over endless nights at the local club though hed still popped into a club now and then. Hed aimed for a university he was passionate about, not the nearby technical college. Hed taken risks, stepped out of his comfort zone, and built his own business.
Hed fought, learned, stumbled, and suffered losses. It wasnt his fault that they now led the lives they do and blamed him for his success. He hadnt stolen their money; hed earned it himself.
How many of you know people like Poppy and the other old classmates who count other peoples cash? Some were lucky enough to be born into wealthy families and get a good education, but there are countless stories of folks from modest backgrounds, with uneducated parents, who made it on their own. Everything is in our own hands, and each of us decides our path.
