The strange case of Herbert’s invisibility
I sat in my car and drove to Herbert’s house. Herbert although not a close friend, was one of my oldest. We met each other at our chemistry program at the prestigious Wells university. I dropped out in the second semester due to poor performance in most, if not all of my courses. To this day my parents contend I was expelled due to bad grades, but I would like to think that chemistry and I just don’t mix.
I parked outside Herbert’s driveway and tooted the horn. My car door flung open as Herbert sat in my old’s mobile. I was quite certain it was Herbert and not a stranger. You see I couldn’t be sure it was him. Why? He didn’t speak a word or by the fact that I couldn’t see him! Herbert was invisible. It was from an accident at the university’s chemistry lab.
Herbert finally grunted and I was finally at ease. “Speak up, will you Herbert!”, I exclaimed. “You know I can’t see you!”. “How many invisible people do you know of?”, Herbert sarcastically replied. “Well before you no one, but now that we know its possible don’t you think someone might have formulated a potion by now?” I mocked. Herbert did not reply, he just sighed heavily. We always argued, I throttled the gas and started driving.
As I drove through the countrside seemingly alone by any onlookers, Herbert started rambling on how difficult it was to meet women with his unusual condition. Although the notion of dating someone invisible is quite exciting at first (by Herbert’s account), it loses its charm rather quickly. Who knew that all relationships would eventually boil down to trivial mundanities like compatibility, shared world view and physical appearance! But as Herbert was blabbering away about the unfairness of his predicament, I was thinking entirely about something else.
Herbert did not become invisible by accident. He was meant to be.
I understand what you are thinking, the sheer infinitesimally small probability of such a bizarre occurrence can only be attributed to randomness. But in my defence, my deduction was not scientific but rather unsettlingly to my rational mind, metaphysical. I had been to many social events with Herbert, but his presence had always been uneventful. I am certain he was never absent, as he had always accompanied me. But inevitably he would dissipate in the background like a spectre. Herbert by all accounts was not quiet because he was antisocial or introverted. He was quiet because he was selfish. I theorized that Herbert’s reluctance to socialize stemmed from his innate selfishness. He simply would not partake in any conversation that was not about him.
The more I pondered over this thought, the stronger my affirmations of this theory grew. Herbert had always been invisible to me. He never wanted to earnestly connect nor was he ever empathetic or genuine like a good friend ought to be.
It was just now, that I could see him.