**Diary Entry 12th March**
I suppose everyone remembers it perfectlyexcept him.
*”I dont remember because it never happened!”* old Mr. Redfern said seriously, staring at her with those honest, aged eyes. The conversation died awkwardly, and they went their separate ways.
*Why lie?* thought Eliza. *It was plain as day in his eyes!*
Back when they were eleven, Peter Redfern had fancied Eliza Sommers, a girl in his class, and one day hed blurted out, *”Want me to be your Kai?”*
*”My what?”* Eliza had frowned.
*”You knowlike in the fairy tale! The Snow Queen enchants him, and Gerda saves him!”*
*”Gerda saves him, not Eliza!”* shed snapped, unimpressed. *”Honestly, have you even read Andersen?”*
*”Eliza, Gerdawhats the difference?”* Peter had waved it off. *”Im askingdyou want me as your Kai?”*
She didnt. Peter was scrawny, with ears too big for his head, and shorter than her. Rescuing someone like that wouldve been easyif shed wanted to. But she was sturdy, a head taller, and walking beside him after such a rescue? Embarrassing.
Besides, her heart belonged to someone else: Michael Tucker, the class dunce.
Speaking of whom, he was standing nearby, listening with amusement. Eliza adjusted her hair ribbon and saidloud enough for Michael to hear*”Kai? Youre not even fit to be the reindeer! So, Kai, shove off!”*
Michael burst out laughing. Peter flinched, then bolted. The next day, in front of everyone, he took his revenge*”Eliza the Salad!”*because no man takes rejection lightly, least of all a proud one.
Peter had brains, thoughmore than enough to make up for his lack of brawn. But in that moment of humiliation, even the sharpest mind freezes. Soon, the whole class was laughing. The nickname stuck.
When Eliza complained at home, her parents soothed heruntil years later, when her father, helping with algebra, lost patience and sighed, *”That Peter was rightyour heads full of salad!”* He even added, *”Send him my regards!”*
By graduation, childhood grudges had faded. They even danced togetherPeter had grown taller, muscular from sports. Michael, meanwhile, got booted out after year eight into trade school.
Eliza became a teacher. Peter, an engineerstandard middle-class lives. Then the ’90s hit.
Elizas daughter, Sophie, brought home a fiancéunemployed, with a baby on the way. The factory where hed welded shut down, repurposed for motivational seminars. *”Trade coats at the market now!”* they told him. Refusing, he and Sophie struggled.
Eliza and her engineer husband scrambledshe imported goods from Spain; he became a courier. By decades end, theyd saved enough for a two-bed flat. The financial crash made them accidental winnersyesterdays pennies became todays fortune.
Eliza returned to teaching*”No-nonsense types like her are always needed.”* Peter stayed an engineer.
At sixty, her husband left*”You crushed me with your authority!”*moving into a shared flat. Alone, Eliza found work couldnt replace companionship. Colleagues werent friends, and strangers werent to be trusted.
By seventy, they forced her out. Schoolyard troublemakers were too much. Her world shrank to her flatuntil she bumped into Peter, now widowed, back in his parents old home.
They chatted often, reminiscing.
*”Remember when you asked to be my Kai?”* she said once.
*”When did I ever say that?”*
*”Year five!”*
*”Me? Kai?”* He scoffed. *”Youve lost the plot, Eliza! You couldnt even climb a ropehowd you save anyone?”*
*”So you remember the rope but not Kai?”* she pressed.
*”It never happened,”* he said firmly.
But of course, he remembered. The first rejection never fades.
*Serves you right, Eliza the Salad.*
