When Your Number Is Called
My name is Courtney, and I was born at 5:15 AM on October 26th, 1988. Â When I was born my parents didnât ask the doctor if I was a boy or a girl, or if I was healthy. Instead they asked, âwhatâs the number?â
The room braced for the doctorâs answer.  My parents held each other close, both openly crying as they prayed for good news.  âHer number isâŠâ started the doctor, flipping my right wrist over and reading the black numbers that spread across it.  â152310232048.â
My parents cried in relief. Â
I would live a good life. Â
You see, in my world, everyone is born with a 12-digit number on their right wrist. Â What does the number mean exactly? Â Wellâthe number gives us the day we die. Â We donât know how we will die, but we willâat that exact time. Â Think of it like the expiration date you see on a jug of milk. Â After the expiration date, you throw away the milk, right? Â Well, that is what the marks on our wrists mean. Â We obviously donât get thrown away in the trash, but we cease to exist after that date. Â And just like that jug of milk buried in some landfill, we too will be buried in the ground.
My number is 152310232048.
Which means that at 3:23 PM on October 23rd, 2048âI will die. Â
I will live to be 59 years old. Â
I have a good number. Â It isnât the best number. Â My brother is going to live to be 88. My parents, couldnât believe it when the doctor read his number out loud. Â He will live 29 years longer than me. Â He will see so much more than me, experience so much more than me. Â He might even live to see his great-great grandchildrenâIâll be lucky to see my grandchildren. Â Â
I sometimes get jealous when I see his number. Â
I canât change my number. Â
Medicine, money, and miracles do not change your number. You can certainly die earlier then your number, but to die before your number is rare. Â People just tend to be more careful. Â After all, when you are constantly walking around with a literal reminder of your time left on earth on your wrist, you tend appreciate the life you have a little more.
Iâm reminded of this when I see other peopleâs number. Â
The first time this happened was when I was 5 years old.
On my first day of school, I was in kindergarten and Iâve never really interacted with any other kids besides my older cousins. I was nervous, so when recess was called, I decided to go to the swings. Â Anyone who liked swings as much as meâwell, they were cool in my book. Â Â
On my way to an open swing a wild boy with a dinosaur shirt, and brown eyes full of mischief, performed a back flip off the swings and nearly knocked me over in his crash landing. Â He jumped up, dusted off his pants and smiled at me and said, âMy names Devon, and I am going to live to be 57.â
It was such a typical kid way of introducing themselves. Â Adults tended to be more secretive of their numbers. Â Wearing watches, or long-sleeved shirts to cover up their numbers, but five year oldsâwe didnât understand the concept of subtlety.Â
Another body quickly landed next to him, this one thankfully on their feet.  It was a red-haired girl, with two perfectly braided pig tails.  âMy names Fiona, and Iâm going to live to be 62.âÂ
Another body landed next to her. Â He stumbled a bit on his landing, and his glasses fell down the bridge of his nose as he found his balance. Â âHi, Iâm Oscar,â he smiled, shaking his long brown hair out of his eyes as he pushed his glasses up his nose. Â âIâm going to live to be 17.â
Mind youâwe were in kindergarten. Â We were literally learning our ABCâs, learning how to tie our shoes, and zip up our coats, but the concept of numbersâthat we didnât need to learn. Â Our parents made sure we knew what our number was, and what their number was, and what grandmaâs number wasânumbers were literally ingrained into our minds, much like the literal numbers that adorned our wrists. Â
Which meant even at 5 years old, I knew that Oscarâwell Oscar, had a bad number. Â
It must have showed on my face because the boyâa boy who I didnât even know, hugged me. Â And as he squeezed me, he said, âItâs okay,â before pulling back and smiling. Â âMy dadâs say that seventeen is plenty of time. They said it is isnât about how high your number isâbut itâs about what you do with the number you get.â
Looking back now, as an adult thinking about having my own childâIâd probably say the same thing to my child if they were born with a bad number. Â What else can you do? Â You canât change your childâs number. Â You canât give your child more time, no matter how much you wish you could take the numbers off your wrist and place them on your childâsâyou just canât. Your job as a parent is to protect your children, but you canât protect them from the inevitable, so instead, you give them something else.
Oscarâs dads gave him hope. Â
His dads were great people. Â I grew close to them as we progressed through school because obviously, Oscar, Fiona and Devon and meâwe became best friends after the day on the swings. Â We called our group âThe Swingers,â much to the embarrassment of our parents. Â We didnât understand why they didnât like our group nickname when we were young, but we finally understood when we were 15âand thanks to the internet, we learned exactly what âswingersâ were. But even after learning the sexual nature of our group nickname, we still kept it, because honestly, what teenagers didnât like tormenting their parents?
âCourtney where are you going? Â Itâs late!â
âDad said I can go to Oscarâs house!â
âAnd what will you be doing at Oscarâs house?â
âGod momâwe are just having a swinger party, can I go now?â
The look of embarrassment on my parentâs face was always perfectâespecially in public.
Speaking of Oscarâs house. Â His house became the âhang outâ spot for us four. Â Mostly because his dads had an awesome basement, and his dad Jerry was professional Chef, which meant we ate good there. Â But back to Oscarâs dadsâthey were awesome. Â They adopted Oscar when he was just an infant. Â His mother gave him up when she saw his number. Â It was an epidemic in our world. Â Foster homes were full of children with bad numbers. Â
But Oscarâs dads, they didnât see his number. Â They just saw Oscar. Â This happy, intelligent, beautiful blue-eyed child who just so happened to be destined to die young. Â They didnât see his numberâinstead they just saw Oscar.
Devon, Fiona, and Iâwe only saw Oscar too. Â
Most of the kids in our class didnât really attempt to get to know Oscar, because honestly, what was the point? Â He wouldnât be around for long. Â So, it was the four of usâfor as long as we had the four of us.
We experienced our first kisses.
We had our hearts broken.
We got drunk onceânever again.
We got highâmore than once.
âThe Swingersâ lived every day to the fullestâuntil the day came when four was about to become three. Â Oscarâs day would land just a few weeks before our Senior graduation. We always knew his number, but it never seemed real until it came so close to the actual date on our calendar.
Oscar took accelerated courses so that he could graduate beforeâhis number came up. Â The school planned a graduation ceremony just for him the day before his number. Â His dadâs and his extended family fills the stands, the rest of his class sit in the chairs, the very same chairs they will soon fill in a couple of weeks when the class of 2007 would all walk together. Â The principal called out Oscarâs name, and he stepped up to the microphone. Â
Oscar was the schools valedictorian. Â He stayed late after school, he studied well into the night, he worked hardâso hard, that his dedication to his studies really got in the way of âswingerâ time. Â One day, after another late night of not seeing Oscar because he was studying for a Chemistry test, I yelled at him. âIt is just a Chemistry test Oscar! If you get a B, it wonât be the end of the world!â
Oscar barely blinked an eye at my outburst, instead, much like that day in front of the swingsâhe pulled me into a hug. âLook, this is the only time I have to be great,â he said. Â âI donât get anything after this. Â So, if this is all I getâIâm going to be the best.â
A 4.0 grade point average
And he never filled out a single college application.
Oscar cleared his throat in front of the microphone, garnering everyoneâs attention. Â âThank you for everyone who came today. Â It means a lot, to me. Very much like my life, Iâm going to keep this speech short.â
Gasps echoed through the gym and Oscar smiled.
âThat was not meant to be a joke. Â Please donât think that I am making light of the fact that tomorrow is my number. Â Instead, I say that I will keep this speech shortâbecause I think the world tends to greatly underestimate the power of something short.â
âMy mother gave me up for adoption when I was only 1 minute old. Â As soon as the doctor read my number, she signed over custody of me to the state. Â I always wondered, how can I be judged of my quality of life, before Iâve even taken my first shit.â
Laughter echoed from the students, gasps echoed from the parents, and grumbles of disapproval echoed from the teacherâs and administration. But Oscar just smiled, as he looked back at the principal. Â âFeel free to give me a detention this weekend for cussing,â he joked, earning another chuckle from the students. Â
âShe was wrongâby the way,â continued Oscar, his gaze going back out to the gym. Â âAnyone who ever stared at my number, and looked at me with sadnessâyou were wrong. I have livedânot as long as our parents and not as long as you all will liveâbut make no mistake, I have lived. Â My life may have been short, but it doesnât mean it has been any less significant as someone who lived well into their 80âs.â
Taking in a breath, he gave his parents and then the swingers a shaky smile. âEvery second of every single day for the past seventeen yearsâhave been lived to the fullest because simply, I didnât have the time to waste. Â Every moment of my life has counted, cherished and lovedâcan you say the same thing about yours?â
Oscar died on 2:13 PM on March 16th, 2007.
Like his number said, he lived to be 17.
But he didnât let his number define him.
Instead he lived every day, until his number was called.
This story was adapted and turned into a 50 page short story, and is now available for purchase through Amazon!
The Kindle format can be purchased here for $2.99
The Paperback format can be purchased here for $5.99
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Thank you for reading this story, and for your support if your purchased the book! Â
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