Chance
Chapter 1: Rebirth
The longer Chance stared at the face in the mirror, the more unfamiliar the image became. The grey eyes - with perhaps a tint of blue - had always been there. But last time he checked, he was sure that the skin around them hadn't been so heavy, so tired. His nose seemed somehow too bold. It had been broken before, but he'd never had a problem adjusting to its new shape. Now he struggled to recognise it as his own. Maybe change was exaggerated by the shaving foam. He sighed, and splashed the Gillette razor in the soapy water once more. As he ran the blades across his cheek, he reflected on just how leathery the skin had become. He had always thought of his skin as being smoother. Less pitted from the stresses of the weather. With each stoke of the razor, Chance revealed more and more of himself from behind the foam. Had his jawline always been that pronounced? He hadn't thought so. He bent down to the chipped washing bowl and rinsed the excess foam away. He stood for a moment, watching errant threads of water run down his face, and looked himself in the eyes once more.
More blue than he had first thought.
It wasn't that Chance never looked in the mirror. These days, he regularly went for days without even a glimpse of one. But that wasn't the problem. He realised that although he had looked, he very rarely saw. Clearly, it had been a while since he had really examined himself. Maybe he was too used to allowing his eyes to lie to him. He snorted, and bent his head back to the lukewarm water again.
Yeah, that sounds about right.
Chance rose once more and grabbed the towel from the washstand, his gaze avoiding the mirror. Today was sure to be another day which would justify his name. He wasn't at all convinced he liked that idea.
He put his shirt on and strode out of the small room. He tossed his few posessions into a battered rucksack, checked that the room was in order, and silently crept out. He left the small farmhouse as the sun was still low in the sky, and prepared to catch the first bus into town. Better to roll the dice sooner than later, after all.
~o~
James Callorn raised the glass once more, drinking deep. For a moment, the rowdy rush of the pub quietened around him. The bitter taste of the beer washing against the back of his throat and the faint buzz of the alcohol entering his system overtook his senses. He swallowed the last of the pint down, and brought the glass back down to the table with a thud. The bitterness of the cheap beer clung to his throat and tongue, drowning all other senses.
“I'm telling you James, you don't get too many chances at this kind of thing”.
At the mention of his name, the noise of the pub broke like a wave around him, and he was thrust back into the busy room. It didn't take long for him to regain the thread of the conversation.
“I know, I know. So you keep saying.” He replied, looking up from the washed out glass to his friends across the table. Benny and Lisa were lost in a world of their own, as usual, and were unlikely to rescue him. Robbie was waving a finger at him intently. James recognised that gesture: another stern lecture was coming.
“Actually, I don't think you do know, man!” Robbie reprimanded him, leaning back in his chair and waving his arms. “Look at you. Every one else you know has just graduated, most of them are into work already! You should be with them, making your own way in the world. But let me guess where you were all day? Playing cards with Gary, 'init?”.
It wasn't Robbie's fault, James knew. He was a good guy. His parents were Indian, and had heaped discipline on his shoulders his whole life. Robbie knew what it was to work hard; to achieve; to have some form of financial backing. He didn't know anything else. With his neatly trimmed beard and smart leather jacket, Robbie was all about image. It never seemed fair to hold that against him, but sometimes he made it difficult.
Robbie must have noticed the shadow of a scowl creep across his face, because his voice softened. “Look, James, I don't mean to go on. But you need to get through this final year. Get your head down and get some work done man! You have plenty of time to play cards. Just get the balance right, alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah you're right Robbie. It's just not easy, you know, there's always distractions...”
“Right! But it's up to you to keep it in check!”
“Hey hey guys! Robbie, how are ya?!” A fresh roar of noise greeted the arrival of Dave and the rest of the football team. A rush of handshakes, greetings, and hugs took over the conversation. James was relieved for the break.
“And here he is! The last chancer! How goes the uni work James? Any easier second time around?”
James raised an arm to shake Dave by the hand, and extended a wave or a shake to those nearby. “You're cheerful tonight Dave, you must have won at last!”. He sat back against his chair again. James rarely made an elaborate ritual of greeting people. He always liked to think of it as part of his charm. A cheaper image than Robbie's, he thought wryly.
“Nah don't be daft. I scored our only goal, but it was Mike what let us down though, hey Mikey?! Hi Lisa, how's it going?”
James looked around the group for a moment, trying to suss out exactly who had arrived. Sadly, Mike had indeed arrived, but he was talking to someone else. Maybe he'd be able to avoid him. There was the lovely Katie, still with her idiot boyfriend Chris. He had never understood what she saw in that thug. Chris was the kind of guy who confused romance with take-away and jewellery with style. He caught James' stare, and tipped his baseball cap to him. James sighed. It was a shame, because Katie was so nice. She was smiling and waving excitedly at everyone she could recognise. She tried so hard, and deserved so much better.
“So come on!” Dave said, pulling up a chair and clapping James on the back. “Managed to meet any deadlines yet? Robbie, you're keeping him in line, right?”.
James tore his eyes away from Katie and thought up a decent enough reply. “Let's just say my luck with cards is better than my luck with numbers.” Dave laughed at this, and James forced a smile.
“Still taking your chances over with Gary and the boys, eh?”
“Well, they're good enough folks Dave. After a couple of pints the conversation slows down so much that even you could make decent banter.”
“Don't get cheeky with me Sunshine!” Dave cracked with a smile. “If you're doing so well with them, maybe you oughta get the next round in?”.
“Now that, my friend, is a good idea!” said Robbie, and promptly threw back the rest of his drink.
“Hey, James” piped up Lisa from across the table. “Still rolling those dice of yours?”
“Oh yes. They're still not lucky though - drinks are on you Davey!”.
“It's all about luck with you, isn't it James?” Said Dave, rising from his chair with a wink.
“Nah, sit down Dave, I'll get 'em in. We've got to celebrate your goal, after all!”. James rose himself and put a hand to Dave's shoulder as laughter broke out around the table. Dave sat down, shrugging with a grin and pulling out some tobacco. James took orders from around the table and made his way to the bar, shaking hands and greeting people as he went.
It was a busy night, and James considered his luck as he waited to be served. With cards, he seemed to do OK. He'd won twenty pounds earlier that afternoon, after a long poker game. Stakes are never very high when playing with students, but he'd felt good after the winning. His dice though, now there was a conundrum. He'd bought them cheap on the market and had carried them with him for about six months now. He reasoned that if he kept them with him long enough, they'd become “lucky” dice. They weren't working yet though, and he was starting to wonder if there were any grounds for believing in lucky charms after all. At what point did a trinket become lucky, anyway? Maybe they needed to be dipped in holy water. Chuckling to himself, he collected his change from the grumpy barman and headed back toward the table, precariously clutching the drinks.
There was a round of laughter as he came up to the table, and a loud cheer as he was spotted with the drinks. He handed them round and took up his seat once more, leaning deep into the chair. Benny raised his pint glass, nodded at Robbie, and looked at James directly.
“We were just saying Jim. It has been a good day, what with Dave's goal, Robbie's bonus and your... well, whatever has had that daft grin on your face all evening. We've decided, well, Lisa decided really -” a burst of giggles erupted from Lisa as Benny said this, and she buried her face in his shoulder. “We've decided to honour the day!”
“Are you gonna drink from that glass, or hold it up all evening?” James quipped before sipping from his own pint with a grin.
“Hmmm. Well, in honour of your last chance at academic success, and your now legendary obsession with those dice, we've decided to rename you!”.
“You'll love this man!” Squealed Robbie, as James looked curiously over his pint glass.
Benny cried the toast, which was echoed around the table. It was as close as James had ever come to a Christening. But in that moment of acceptance, James Callorn was all but reborn. He would look back on the moment many times in later years, as the name stuck with him. It was apt, and to both himself and his friends, would prove itself to be worthy many times over. Sometimes, many years later, he would look back at the new name and wonder if he simply tried to play up to the role. But then, he did have the most peculiar luck.
“To Chance!”
~o~
Chance got off the bus at the last stop, just at the edge of town, as the last light was fading from the day.
It had been several years since Chance had seen Robbie, or Dave. Everyone else seemed to get on with their lives, while he had been left behind. Today, too, he had been left behind. He had left the farmhouse that morning full of nervous energy and optimism: daring to hope that she would say yes. Still, he would walk on alone, stopping wherever his feet carried him.
Chance had never been one for seizing the moment. He had breezed through his life, frustrating his peers and family by letting opportunity after opportunity slide by. He'd never quite understood why, but luck never seemed to flow his way until it was really needed. Actually, he was well aware that luck had little do with it. Occasionally, a stroke of good luck might drag him through some situation or another. Normally on his infamous 'last chance'. But he had himself to blame for the misfortune in his life.
Today had been no exception. This particular opportunity had slid by for good. He had been too slow this time, he mused. She might have come with him, if he had asked last time he was in town. But as the months slipped by she had changed her mind. It was no great surprise. Kay had a stable job now, and a new group of friends. He would never expect her to drop that to follow him in his lonely life. Chance was many things, but he wasn't naïve. He walked a different road now. Perhaps one which was best walked alone. He shouldered his backpack and leapt over a shallow style. He followed the footpath across the field. As the day faded into darkness, Chance turned his back on the modern world once more, and was soon lost to sight.