Forgetting the Remembered III
Destiny is like a human being. At times, she feels tired and lazy, leading her not to do things right. Eventually, after her so-called rest, she will just shock you with overwhelming events and make you pinch yourself while muttering, "Is this true? Ouch! Yes, it is!"
And because I entrusted my potential love life to Destiny, I couldn’t do anything but prepare for unexpected things to come…
To get the events a little accurate, I have my guides with me— my 2005 and 2006 planners. My planners weren’t only records of what I did daily in those years, but it was also a semi-diary. Though I wasn’t able to record some cinematic scenes, I want to travel back to some of the important dates, for the last time. (To tell you honestly, I didn’t include some of the specific dates because…. well, I’m only human; I’m afraid he’ll be lost in the web and come across this blog…And I don’t want to scare him— again— now that we’re friends, though not close but an inch higher than acquaintances. And to set the record straight, I’m writing this blog as a to-forget therapy. Kaya nga these series of entry is entitled as such)
(Flip, flip) Hhmmm… So, February 18, 2005 was the date of the bike accident, where he blocked my way and if I just let myself fell off the bike, I could have fallen in his hands. Anyway…
Three months and a half passed. It’s June 18, Saturday. By this time, I was trying to push him out of my thoughts because I wanted to concentrate with my studies… It was a semi-rainy Saturday. I was in our office with the rest of my creative team, finishing the last sheets of posterettes for the pub’s annual screening when my beastfiend M.A. (short for Maya Anghela) invited me to take a break by going to the next building. I needed to stretch some muscles before doing another task, it was a good idea.
Nelly Fortado’s right—all good things come to an end. I found out that M.A.’s going to return his USB and I couldn’t turn back because we already set foot on the AS building. "I can do this. Kayang-kaya ko ‘ni. Lalaki lang na," I told myself.
His group, where one of my high school classmates was one of them, went out of their office, and met us in the hallway. M.A. returned his USB while I acted again as if he’s not there by talking my ex-classmate who will be named Leo. Now, when everyone’s ready to part ways, Leo suddenly exclaimed, "M.A.! Happy Birthday gali!"
I stepped slowly outside the group when everybody moved to kiss and hug M.A. when a voice asked me, "San-o imo birthday?"
Startled, I looked around if there’s a ghost or the building’s famous white lady beside me but instead, I saw him, waiting for a reply.
"Ha? Ako?" I asked for confirmation, fearing that the question was just a voice from my imagination. He didn’t answer.
"Five days from now," I answered, not looking at him.
"Ah…."
<deleted dialogues; this writer coulndn’t bear writing those dialogues down.Sorry.)
Nga-a, i-greet mo man ‘ko? I wanted to ask him as their group left.
When my birthday came, of course, I never received a message from him (voice insert: Ngaa i-greet n’ya man ka bi? Close kamo? Ako: Teh kay namangkot siya mo…’Bi ko…voice insert: Abi mo interested siya? Hahahaha! Namangkot man lang siya ‘ya! Lain mamangkot haw? Ambisyosa!). But I kept on glancing at my cellphone with the hope that he might just accidentally send me even a wrong message.
Okay, enough of the drama. Let’s move forward.
Night of August 31, same year. I ate at the nearest and cheapest carenderia from school, went home to change my practice teaching uniform to shirt and jeans, and headed quickly to CPU Rose Memorial where the concert of Hale and MYMP was about to start in a couple of minutes.
I texted M.A. if she’s around. She texted back that I should wait for her. When I saw her strutting down the stairs, she waved her hands up and down, muttering something.
"Ha? Ano?" I asked as I linked my arm to hers.
"Ari di siya!!!"
"Ows? So what?" I was there to see my then celebrity crush Champ of Hale perform and sing with my ever favorite MYMP, I told M.A.
"Oks ah," she replied with an evil grin.
We went inside, left our bags with M.A.’s dormmate, and went outside to grab something to eat. We headed towards the Thirsty booth when M.A. said "hi" to someone, to him rather.
"Oi! Ari ka man ‘di gali?" He asked upon seeing me.
"Ari ka man di gani," I replied pilosopo-ically and pretended looking at the menu of shakes.
"Sige ah, una kami," he said, then punched my left shoulder lightly.
I turned into a slab of stone at that very instance and hoped that he will punch me again so that I will break into pieces. Instantly, I made a big deal out of it (I’m not alone, I know), wanted to grab him by the collar, and furiously ask him, "Ginsumbag-sumbag mo ‘ko ya haw? Friends ‘ta haw? Ha?!"
Another reason why I made it a big deal because I read somewhere out there in the world wide web, that it’s unusual for a guy to do something like that to people, especially if they’re not friends. (Moral lesson: Don’t listen to strangers.)
The rest of the night was cloud nine. Hale and MYMP did great, and so what he did to me.
November, still the same year. He went outside Iloilo for OJT. Great, now my eyes were somehow fixed on Mr. Hapee toothpaste smile. As if kami, I tried to tell myself: Resist the temptation! Temptation is not the sin; to be tempted is the sin!
A little fast forward, shall we? And came January 2006; new year, old flame. I heard that his OJT stint’s over and he’s back in school. But Destiny made me busier than previous months with a newsletter for accreditation, the annual literary folio for the college, and with the university week, so I didn’t have the luxury of stalking him.
Sisiw, I said to myself. I could see him naman during the pageant night. So I worked my heart and body out— slept in our office for days just to fit presswork and accreditation must-dos in the schedule, painted a mural on one of the outside walls of the school (where I dedicated it to him but the dedication was covered partly with dirt before he could read it— as if he will read it), and sold crackers to raise some fund.
Then, I discovered that my classmate (the one who had a crush on him when we went to Subic) told him my carefully guarded secret. Hay, buhay…
Maybe that’s the reason why during the pageant night as I entered the venue (where he was, looking handsome and elegant in his black barong), he threw me a weird look— weird, hurting look. Yet, I managed to write this on the planner: "He looked wonderful tonight… He’s so kakaiba from others (which I probably said because of his if-looks-could-kill stare)… He’s simply stunning."
A month passed by;it was already March and we were busy complying the requirements for graduation, some were put into a suspense state— if they’re a point higher and become magnas or if they’re a point lower and become students again for the next year—and most prayed, "Lord, please make this quick."
While most A-students from my department worried about getting laudes, I worried about how to say "hi" to him for the last time.
Ah, Destiny’s mood probably went fine on March 14, Tuesday. My
creative team and I went outside the university for lunch. As we’re about to cross the street next to our school, I saw him with his group.
Then, as if there’s someone who was controlling that scene, everything between us —sikads, cars, students— seemed to slow down and blur, and made ourselves more vivid to each other.
"Hi Starving Writer*," he greeted me first.
"Hello," caught off-guard, I greeted back. Then I realized that everything happened so fast yet so slow at the same time—seconds froze when he said "hi", and the word "hi" lingered in the air for a matter of time before it disappeared.
That was the first time he greeted me again after a long hide and seek and this was a moment, my moment. (cont.)
