Perhaps Suffering Isn’t All Bad

First of all, a Note for the Reader.

Four days ago I was in a car accident. Two weeks before that I was in another one. What would my life look like if I hadn’t crashed?

Here’s my best guess.

Kya

October 1st

Another Wednesday. I hummed along to my sister Emma’s indie music while I waited at the traffic light. The green arrow finally lit up, and I turned left.

Soon it was fourth period: drama class, my favorite. I waited anxiously for our teacher to announce our class play. “Drumroll, please!” The class drummed their fists on the ground.

“Our play this year is…Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing!”

I gasped. I had loved theater since my first play in second grade, and I had been hoping to perform in Much Ado ever since I saw it live freshman year. I’d always imagined myself like the main character Beatrice: lively, spunky, self-assertive.

October 1st

Another Wednesday. I hummed along to Emma’s music while I waited at the traffic light. The green light finally lit up and I began to turn left.

Wham.

What just happened?

My mind refused to take it in: the little white “yield on green sign” beside the light. I was so used to getting green arrows that I hadn’t realized that sign was there before. And now I had caused two car accidents in two weeks.

I tried to steel my body to stop trembling. “Emma? Are you ok?” She nodded numbly; neither of us were hurt. I cautiously stepped out of the car. While its headlight was badly damaged, my Kia was still driveable.

I turned to Emma. “Call Mom, please,” I asked with a sinking heart.

After the last crash, Mom had made it clear we couldn’t afford another incident. Things were already tight for our family of eight. And now I was going to have to tell her I’d just gotten into another accident.

A few hours later, I was sitting in drama class. Even my favorite class couldn’t rouse me out of my stupor. I kept going back and forth between blaming myself for my stupidity and writhing with guilt when I thought about what would happen next.

My friend Clarisse elbowed me. “Mia, pay attention! He’s about to announce the class play!”

The class was drumming their fists. Mr F gave the motion to stop. “Our play this year is…Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing!” I felt a spark of curiosity disrupt my glum thoughts. I loved Much Ado, especially the main character Beatrice: she was lively, spunky, and confident.

Now that I had to find a way to work off the damages to the car, practicing for auditions could take more time than I had. But to be Beatrice…? As long as I put earning money first, I resolved to spend any time I had leftover to prepare for auditions.

October 8th

I lay on the couch, exhausted. I had just come back from a “study group” to work on my essay. My phone rang. It was my classmate Ilana, asking for help with math. I looked at my stack of work: I still had to practice for auditions and finish editing my essay. I texted Ilana that I’d help her tomorrow in study hall.

Inwardly, I groaned when I picked up my audition lines. I had so much left to memorize and it was late…I could finish memorizing tomorrow.

October 8th

I lay on the couch, exhausted. I had just tutored for three hours. Why couldn’t I have found a job that took less of a mental toll?…No; I was thankful for the job. This was how I made things right for my family. I still couldn’t think of the accident without flinching, but I felt better knowing I was working towards paying off the damage.

My phone rang. It was my classmate Ilana, asking for math help. I looked at my stack of work: I still had to practice for auditions and work on my essay for literature class. The phone rang again. After everything I’d been through, was I about to turn away a friend in need? I picked up the phone. No matter how late into the night I worked, this was time well spent.

October 15th

I sat down, my stomach churning from anticipation. Today our roles were announced. Mr F walked to the front of the class with a huge grin. “My dear class, all of you did so wonderfully yesterday in auditions…” Come on, when was he going to tell us our roles?

“And now to your roles. First of all, our leads. George Miller will star as Benedick. Clarisse Thornton will star as Beatrice!”

What? But…no, he was right. Clarisse deserved the role - she’d put in much more time than I had. As I walked out, Mr F smiled at me. “You did well in auditions yesterday, Mia. Keep practicing - you have a lot of potential.” He was right. Next time, I would practice more instead of taking the role for granted.

In the hallway I noticed Ilana running to the bathroom - she looked like she was about to cry. Oh, that’s right, I realized. She had wanted to play Beatrice too.

I followed her to the bathroom. She was crouched in a corner sobbing. I felt awful. Ilana’s home life was already hard enough. I went over and gave her a hug. “It’ll be ok, Ilana.” It took a while, but eventually she stopped crying. “Thanks, Mia,” Ilana gave me a tearful smile. I smiled back at her. That’s the power of sympathy, I thought.

October 15th

I sat down exhausted but cheerful. Thanks to the two additional tutoring jobs, I was working off my debt. Luckily, the self-discipline from working had carried over: it had taken sacrificing some sleep and hanging out with friends, but I had prepared well for auditions yesterday.

Today our roles were announced. Mr F walked to the front of the class with a huge grin. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach. “George Miller will star as Benedick. Clarisse Thornton will star as Beatrice!”

I pushed away any thoughts that weren’t happy for Clarisse and clapped loudly. She would do an amazing job. I was given the role of Hero, second in the lead to Beatrice. As we walked out, Mr F nodded to me. “You were excellent in auditions yesterday Mia. It was a hard call between you and Clarisse.” I walked away with a skip in my step: those hard hours of practice had paid off after all.

In the hallway I noticed Ilana running to the bathroom - she looked like she was about to cry. Oh, that’s right, I realized. She had wanted to play Beatrice too.

I followed her to the bathroom. She was crouched in a corner sobbing. I felt awful. Ilana’s home life was already hard enough. Her stepfather was an alcoholic and her mom worked two jobs. She had told me earlier she loved theater because it was her escape into another world.

I came over and hugged her tightly. Although not to the same extent, I knew what that pain felt like. “It’s ok, Ilana. I know how it feels.”

Soon she had cheered up and was wiping away her tears. “Thanks, Mia,” she said with a smile.

I smiled back. That’s the power of empathy, I thought.

Note for Reader:

In the Brothers Karamazov, Dmitri says, “I want to suffer and be purified by suffering!”

Maybe my crash wasn’t all bad.