You have been making my day, all my days, for the last year. And I liked it that way. But I have to let go of this. It is not right. This is not right. I guess this is the only cure I know. It's true that bad days become the best when you are around. It is true that you make me smile before I finally close my eyes for a slumber late at night. But you see, you don't love me. You can't love me. It's not your fault. And it never was. This is the only cure for what I feel right now, when I wake up and open my eyes, squinting at the light coming from the rays of early morn sun. Too, squinting at the TRuTH.
And this is what makes this all the more painful, damn, you are my right kind of wrong.
I gave Manong tricycle driver 40 pesos for my fare. That was a very quiet, and chaotic ride at the same time. He dropped me at Valderoza Street near the CAP building.
I walked a few meters towards where we were to meet. One leg was hesitant, the other more hesitant. One part of me was telling, more like ordering me, to just go back home. This other part, this annoying other part, was telling to see this one through. But I already decided to see this one through the moment I alighted from the tricycle. All there was left to do was to force those legs to go take those steps.
I suddenly felt the world was turning around me. I felt pressure going up through my head and I started seeing black spots. I took a pause, took a deep breath. My legs were shaking.
Surprisingly, I found myself peering, quite nervously, through the glass doors of the restaurant. I was relieved. I saw no familiar faces.
There was a couple, to my right, browsing the menu and a rather stocky crew waiting for their orders. The woman was probably in her early 30s, the guy, I was not so sure of. His back was facing me. She was wearing a white collared top, sleeveless with raffles outlined around the pearl button line from her neck to her chest.
"I'm here. Turn to your left," read the message from him.
It was loudest pound I've ever felt in my entire life. Pictures of him whispering in my ear, his left hand holding mine, leading it gently to the headboard kept flashing. Before I could hear what he was trying to say, I was back to my self, turned left and walked to him.
There was a glass of iced tea. A teapot and the smell of Twining's four red fruits. He stood up, walked to the chair opposite his and pulled it out for me. There was something in his smile. It was heavy, almost sad. "Hi, he--llo," he stuttered. I sat and he went back to his seat.
Before he could say anything, "Steve, this has got to stop. Your wedding is in four days. I can't have this right now, not anymore."
"Exactly, my wedding is in four days and I can't stop thinking that I am going to make this big mistake."
"You've dreamed for that day to come. She loves you and you adore her. And this is going to be the envy of the stars, remember?"
"After what happened last night, I knew seeing this through is going to be the biggest mistake that I'll ever do, and I can't make that mistake. I won't. I won't make us miserable for the ..."
"What happened last night, that was the mistake Steve. What happened ..." I froze, I just froze, literally.
"I will never hurt you." He whispered. His left hand was still holding mine. Both rested on the headboard.
I was myself again.
He was looking intently at me, as if he saw what just flashed before me. It was as though he heard himself whisper those words.
Reading is fundametal fundamettal fundemutual good.
I saw this on a shirt when I was in Cebu back in 2003. I fell in love with the shirt so I bought it. It was the first time in 4 years I wore that shirt yesterday. It was nostalgic.
"Bye John," he said. "Bye Steven," was all I could reply.
To him, it did not mean anything. That is what he always says when he leaves. To me though, it was as if it was the end of the world. It was as if I'd never see him again. It was as if I'd never be able to talk with him. It was as if I never can reach out to him, again.
We were at a local bakeshop (that one that makes the best chocolate cakes in the city, the one near the boondocks). We were having cake and tea. And it was time for him to go, and time for me to go back to work.
It felt like it was our last tea together. I know it was our last tea together. And when he said "Bye," I knew very well that it was time to go too.
Tonight, you see, he is going to ask Margaux's parents for her hands (we call it pamamanhikan). They've been together for 3 years now, Margaux and Steven. And it was time, it was their time.
It was so innocent, his goodbye. Before that, he asked me to be his best man. And I didn't say no, I can't say no. I said I would be happy to. I said their story is going to be the envy of the stars. Then there was silence, awkward silence. He looked at me and I at him. He stood up, gave me a pat, looked at me one last time, smiled and said "Bye John."
The moment he said that, I knew it was no longer one of those I-felt-as-ifs. I really felt it. Tasted it. And it tasted like fresh blood and smelt of rust and ash.
************************ How could I see him, look at him? How could I talk to him, reach out to him? How could I care for him and love him when he is already half of this wonderful thing I had dreamed of us to be.
How could I, when I know the other half isn't me and will never be.
I was having this conversation with a friend thru text messages. We were talking about someone. Then she cautioned me to slow down. In my reply, I simply said that I know myself too well. No need to worry about anything. I said, I exactly know what will happen next.
I will fall. And i will realize that it can't happen. We can't happen. I'll cry. Then cry some more. All these with him not knowing anything.
At least I now know, too well actually, what my tear ducts are for. And damn! They never run out of tears.
These days, tears are the only thing that make me believe that I am still human.
I am hoping that one day, one random smile will make me believe that I am a human being, worthy.
I talk a lot. I have a hard time zipping my mouth. Sometimes I become too frank that at times I become rude. And I tend to be honest. Especially with the people I care about, a lot.
So there, I said a few things I thought I should have. Unfortunate.
They say that some things are better left unsaid. I didn't believe in that. Until we stopped. Until he stopped.
I knew then, when I wrote this, that there never will be a part 2. As much as I want it to have a sun-kissed, walk-hand-in-hand-by-the-sea-as-the-sun-sets part 2, it will never happen.
At least, I now know how it feels to be asked to join someone's table.
I want to cry. I need to cry. But it seems like my tear ducts have dried up. They say that some things are better left unsaid. I didn't believe in that. Until we stopped. Until he stopped.
First Sunday of April 2008. I woke up at around 2 pm. I felt like the world was resting on my head. I couldn't stand up because the world around me was spinning. So I sat on my bed. I was trying to recollect my thoughts and trying to remember how I got home. Nothing. The only thing I could remember was I was with Dave and Caren having a discussion, err, argument about Conrado de Quiros the night before at some bar.
Two days after, I wanted to go out but everyone was busy. I decided to go out all by myself and went to this bar where I was last time. I was getting in the bar, then I thought the car parked near the bar's entrance was familiar. But nothing registered. The place was full. There was one table near the counter though, a table for three that seemed empty. I was about to sit myself when this guy pulled one of the chairs and sat himself too. He was smiling at me. As if struck by lightning, everything came back. That's why the car was familiar. That's why I woke up at 2 pm. It was Steve. He was wearing a white shirt. The print said "Don't even think about it." It was black, the print.
He's working at the City Hall, at the City Treasurer's office. He is 29 years old and about 5 feet 6 inches tall. His hair, well, he has a shaved head. He has quite a nose. It looks very much like Michael Douglas'. He is a tad darker than I am. His eyes, black. And when they look at me, they're like the most sincere pair of eyes that ever locked into mine. His voice, well, like a rock star's.
"Damn! I couldn't believe it. Look who's here?" "I couldn't believe myself either," I replied.
The first Saturday of April 2008. I was with Dave and Caren. We've had just two rounds of beer. We were feasting on these beef strips cooked in coconut milk, butter and shrimp paste. And some nuts. We were arguing about Conrado de Quiros. I was telling them that I started hating the columnist since he started hating PGMA. But I still read him though. Dave was saying that someone had to stand up and simply say bluntly what evil PGMA is. I was saying, more like shouting already, that she isn't all that bad, when this guy from across our table grinned and he was looking at me. I didn't so much mind about it. But he kept doing it, every time I was getting too emotional defending PGMA.
I was calm at that time. I approached him. He was all by himself. He was already there when Dave, Caren and I arrived at the bar. "So, you seem to be enjoying our conversation back there." "Not really," he said. "I mean, you are drinking your beer. Give those guys a break. Just enjoy your beer," he continued. He politely asked me to join him in his table. For a moment there, I hesitated. But heck, how many times do I get invited to join a guy's table!
He was having pizza with his beer. There were six slices left on the platter. He was almost done with his second slice. It was carelessly placed on a saucer, black saucer, (the second slice). He asked Rafa, one of the waiters, for another saucer and a fork. I excused myself for a while. "I'll just go tell my friends I ran into someone, ok?" "Ok," he replied and then sheepishly smiled.
I was back at his table in a jiffy. I sat in front of him. The table had three chairs. "So, you often do this? I mean go out alone?" "Some nights, well most nights actually," he answered without even looking at me. His thoughts seemed to have been wandering someplace else. He called out to Rafa again and asked for a bucket of 5+1. This guy wants to be drunk tonight, I mumbled to myself.
We made this a regular thing. Usually on Sundays and Thursdays. Of course there are weeks that we miss out. I was busy. He had to go out of town. I had to be with my friends. He had to be with his mom. I fought a bout with colds. He had a fight with his Dad. I had to finish some slides. He had to chaperon his kid sis.
I feel safe around him.I feel appreciated.And, I want to play with the idea that I am loved every time I am with him.
But I really don’t know if he does love me.I just have this crazy feeling, crazy thought, crazy dream that like me, he too has been found by love.
Like a bird who has broken its wings, like a nightingale who has lost its voice, like a cloud pouring hard its all, like them, I have broken my wings, I have lost my voice, I have cried my all.
It is funny how you suddenly realize that you have missed so much of the world because you have made him your all, your world and still would want to miss more of the world just to spend one more day with him, even for just one more.
And I thank him for that.Because I could not imagine moments passing by, life coursing through, without him, without having known him, without having to know that there is one person in this world, this strange world, who could make me believe when there is nothing more to believe in.
If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have realized that even the daisy is also pretty, I wouldn’t have realized that the sun is just as romantic as the moon, that dreams come true and that love is love.I wouldn’t have realized that even I can be loved.I know it’s such a strong word, love, but it is what it is, love is love.
Albeit this same love has made me realize that I can’t have everything, most especially him, it is this same love that has taught me to believe in everything and in forever.
And if this love has finally left him but still lingers on in me, I will love, I will believe.And I will always remember that the daisy is also pretty, that the sun is just as romantic as the moon, that dreams come true and that love is love.
