The weather was still considered warm for the season. That was probably the good fortune of these high school friends who were reuniting after many years. Dilara arrived first. She saw Enes at the door. These two friends, who hadn’t seen each other in ten years, headed toward the table they had set aside to wait for the rest of their long-lost classmates. Then, one by one, the whole class began to arrive. Enes and Dilara were playing a guessing game, trying to figure out which of their friends was stepping out of the cars pulling up to the door. At the bus stop across from the glass-walled seating area of the place, someone got off a city bus. Enes’s eyes caught on that familiar face.
“Isn’t that Kenan?” he said. Dilara studied the face for a moment and confirmed Enes’s guess. Both of their faces showed a sense of strangeness and surprise. When Kenan came over to the table and greeted them, the whole group was finally complete.
They began talking about their school memories. Everyone shared a few funny moments that had stuck in their minds, and the whole class relived them with laughter. Then Kenan started telling his stories. For almost half an hour, he recounted dozens of things they had experienced at school. Most of the others listened with excitement and surprise, because none of them remembered so many details. Nearly all of what Kenan told had been forgotten. But as he spoke, they recalled those moments with astonishment and a smile.
Enes turned to Kenan and asked:
“Bro, what do you do for a living? Did you get married?”
“I’m working as a waiter. I’m not married yet, and honestly, I don’t see marriage happening anytime soon.”
Everyone was surprised by Kenan’s answer. They had all been in the same class. They were successful, intelligent. Even back in high school, Kenan’s sharp mind always stood out. Hearing that someone so bright and accomplished was now working as a waiter shocked them. A silence fell over the group of twenty. It was Orhan who finally broke it.
“Dude, are you kidding? What do you mean, waiter?”
“No, I’m not joking. And it’s not even something I’ve always done. But right now, I make a living waiting tables and occasionally giving private lessons.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to cover my living expenses—housing, heating, and other basic needs.”
Then Buse joined in.
“I get that, but why waiting tables, Kenan? You were one of the brightest among us. I honestly thought you’d be the CEO of some company by now.”
“Your surprise is something I expected. And in a way, it’s actually what I’ve accomplished.”
Mustafa burst out laughing and jumped in jokingly:
“He’s pulling your leg, man. He fooled all of you.”
“No, I’m not joking.”
After Kenan’s reply, the laughter was cut off by a sharp gust of wind. The group, puzzled, narrowed their eyes at the classmate sitting across from them, trying to understand him. Orhan turned to Kenan anxiously.
“Man, are you working as a waiter just to surprise us? What’s this about?”
“Not to surprise you, of course. But I’ve always felt that living the life that was laid out, the expected path, would be like imprisonment for me. Your surprise only shows me that I’ve managed to break out of that prison.”
“How can someone be happy working as a waiter, man? Especially when you’re capable of achieving so much more. You’re smarter than most of us. What you can achieve as a waiter and what you could achieve as a white-collar executive are completely different. Why settle for less?”
Kenan pulled a cigarette from his pocket. After tapping the filter on the table a few times, he lit it and drew in a deep breath. Blowing the smoke into the air, he turned to Orhan.
“I went through my own kind of awakening years ago. Instead of walking the path laid out for me, I drew my own. Within the boundaries that were set for me, I always felt imprisoned. Instead of living the life they wanted me to seek, asking the questions they wanted me to ask, I chose my own questions—the ones I was truly curious about—and the life that could lead me to those answers.
Let me put it this way: we were given a corridor—like high school. We walked through it. At the end, we reached a door—like the university entrance exam. When we opened it, there was a small room with other doors leading outside. On the wall hung keys for each of those doors. Some keys were easier to reach, others harder. Depending on which key we could grab, we opened a door and entered another corridor. When those corridors ended, the same cycle repeated.At some point, I decided to choose another path for myself. I broke through the wall to make my own door, and I tried to walk through corridors I designed myself. First, I searched for my own questions. Then, I sought their answers. That’s how I began to feel fulfilled in life.”
Amid glances that were a mix of surprise, thoughtfulness, and a touch of joy, Kenan continued smoking his cigarette when Gözde spoke up.
“He was rebellious even back in high school. Always clashing with every teacher. Anyway… I think he’s happy.”
Ercan listened to the conversation with a restless edge, nervously biting his nails as Gözde spoke. A high school memory stirred—a long-standing clash with Kenan, born from a single math problem. It was the root of a silent animosity he had carried ever since.
In that elite class of gifted students, no one had been able to solve the problem for quite some time. When Ercan finally spoke the answer aloud, the teacher praised him and called him to the board to demonstrate the solution. As Ercan worked through it, Kenan challenged him, insisting that the problem itself was flawed. The teacher’s sharp reprimand silenced him, and he sat back down, eyes flickering with unspoken defiance
That solution had initially earned Ercan a spot on the math olympiad team. But just a week later, before the next class began, Kenan stepped to the board and laid out a sequence of calculations proving that the problem was indeed flawed—and that, when approached differently, it could yield two separate results. The teacher examined the work with astonishment and promptly replaced Ercan with Kenan on the olympiad roster.
From that day forward, Ercan’s attitude toward Kenan was colored by resentment. He could never shake the sense that Kenan carried an unusual ego, a confidence that grated against him, and deep down, he had never liked his personality.
Unable to contain himself while reminiscing, he jumped into the conversation.
“This has nothing to do with rebellion. It’s just ego again. He’s dressing up his failures with fancy words, trying to convince himself—and us—that ‘you’re the real failures, hehe.’ Because Kenan isn’t someone destined for true success. When a person’s only talent is smearing the achievements of others, it’s no surprise he ends up working as a waiter.”
After this aggressive outburst, the friends who glanced at Kenan hesitated, not wanting to take sides, and waited in silence. Gözde and Dilara quickly objected to Ercan.
“You’re being way too aggressive, Ercan. There’s no need for such rudeness,” said Dilara.
Angered, Ercan shot back:
“Rudeness? I’m just saying what I see. Kenan was like this in high school too. It’s only natural he’s like this now. He’s still trying, in his sly, arrogant way, to cloak our successes in failure.”
Kenan took another drag from his cigarette, waiting confidently for Ercan to finish speaking.
“You’re still mad about that math problem, aren’t you, Ercan?” Kenan said.
The words hit Ercan like a knot in his throat. He couldn’t answer. Kenan continued.
“I didn’t come here to show off my ego, to be arrogant, or to criticize your successes or your lives. I met all of you in the corridors where emotions and personalities were at their purest. Since then, I haven’t come across such innocence anywhere. I came here only because I missed you, and because I knew seeing you would make me happy.
To me, success means achieving what I desire and more. I have no doubt about how successful everyone at this table is, nor do I intend to judge it. I simply wanted to express that my own desires lie elsewhere.”
After Kenan’s constructive words, Ercan couldn’t respond. Strangely, against his own nature, he even found himself trying to believe him. Now, the conversation revolved around Kenan. Ercan hadn’t yet shared the story of his new Jeep or how, at a young age, he had become a manager at one of the country’s most well-known corporate firms. The others hadn’t shared their own memories, spouses, or careers either.
İbrahim spoke up.
“I’ve always said Kenan was rebellious. He’d rebel against teachers. He’d rebel against rules. So now, what are you rebelling against, my friend? The corridors?”
Kenan laughed. He really liked the phrase, but then he gave an answer that surprised everyone again.
“No, no. Not the corridors. I do have a rebellion, yes but it’s against something broader. Against evolution. I resist it, in my own way.”
After this, some of them burst out laughing. İbrahim started laughing uncontrollably.
“He said against evolution! What are you doing, going to wrestle with monkeys or something? Hahaha!”
Almost everyone at the table was laughing Kenan included. Enes, mimicking Kenan’s expressions, said:
“Monkey, you can’t eat the banana! I’ll ruin this game. Slap!” (pretending to snatch the banana from the monkey’s mouth and smack it into the air)
The laughter at the table grew even louder. Kenan was laughing too, but beneath the chuckles, people were secretly expecting a serious explanation for his wild remark.
When Kenan stubbed out his cigarette and opened his mouth, the laughter gradually subsided, giving way to the anticipation of what he was about to say.
“Evolution was once the natural response of living beings both biologically and ideologically to the conditions of their environment. But today, we no longer react to nature. Our reactions are orchestrated by a system or, if you prefer, by those who manipulate it. The emotional responses we display are guided, curated, and controlled on television, in the media, and in the fabric of everyday life.
Our fathers were raised on cowboy movies and Marlboro commercials. That shaped the previous generation’s reality. And for us, as children, our playthings were tailored: toy cars for boys, Barbie dolls with makeup for girls. Our desires, our priorities, were molded from the very beginning.
Now, our reactions are no longer toward the natural world. They follow scripts imposed upon us, lived according to someone else’s carefully constructed narrative. Evolution no longer unfolds according to nature. Something else governs it something unseen, yet inescapable.”
As Kenan spoke, everyone at the table grew thoughtful. Deep down, they understood him. A subtle sadness seemed to hover on the edge of some of their minds. Kenan noticed this gloom.
“Thinking so differently, of course, doesn’t bring happiness. The more you think, the more restless you become. After all, we have only one life to live. I choose to live not in mere peace, but by pursuing what I truly desire. Life is hard, really. Perhaps I make it even harder for myself. But this is how I am happy.
Seeing the unspoiled sincerity on your faces, the same warmth you carried back in those school days, made me even happier. All of you have achieved what you wanted and more. And I feel a special pride in having friends like you, who are so accomplished.”
At that moment, the waiter arrived. “We’re closing,” he announced to the group.
Ercan couldn’t resist. “Sir, where do we apply for a job as a waiter?”
Everyone burst out laughing, while the waiter gave them a bemused, almost bewildered look.
“Before you bring the form, could you take a picture of us?” Ercan said, handing over his phone. He rose from his seat and moved next to Kenan as they posed for the photo. The group leaned in, laughter still echoing through the room, a mix of nostalgia and mischief lighting up their faces.
