Forgetting the Remembered Part IV

Though I was able to record the (un)fortunate events of my potential love life, there were some that I wasn’t able to, unfortunately. But as I am trying to remember those unrecorded ones, I realized that they’re more significant and detailed…to me, that is. It’s as if I’m just recalling the MCR videos I watch every night.

Well, there were only three unrecorded yet significant events though. The first one happened this way (then you imagine there’s a soft music in the background, coupled with twinkling effects):

After erasing the notes I made on the board, I folded the visual aids I printed the night before, gathered my lesson plan book and other books, and left the room of noisy 2nd years who were talking about Hale and music.

I headed to our table, which was located inside the TPF building, and took a seat, facing Heaven who was doing her lesson plan for the next day as I started checking some papers. We chatted for while on the artistic discipline we employed for the day and returned to our work.

Two hours of talking and standing in front of a class made me hungry, but I preferred to finish what I was doing and eat with Heaven later. I got so absored with all the checking that I didn’t hear Heaven’s "pst’s."

I looked at my left to relax my eyes from the bloody papers in front of me, but I saw a bloodier scene (voice insert: yeah, right). I saw him walking towards the building with M.A.

"Hala!" I mouthed to Heaven. She just smiled and pretended not to see what’s happening. What a reply, my friend. So I tried to relax and concentrate with the papers but prayed at the same time that they’ll just pass by when I heard M.A.’s voice. 

"*Starving Writer, si *ano gali."

"Ay, hi!" I said with a quick smile and looked at the papers again. Please leave, I silently prayed. I noticed, however, that they have ice tea and chichiria, Pillows to be exact.

Great. Ma-chika pa ni gali ‘ya sila… Huhuhu

I looked at Heaven, hoping for any rescue on the situation. I tried mental telepathy: "Ven, lakat na ‘ta sa office. Hear me…Heeeeaaaar meeee…." Hay… It seems that my friend’s receiver’s off or lowbat.

"*Starve (para kuno short cut), Pillows o," he said, handing me an unopened pack of chocolate-filled pillows. Uy, ready siya ha. (voice insert: Assuming na naman a. He gave you food ‘coz you looked hungry. Wah!)

"Ha? ‘Di ko a... Ven, ‘kaw?" I asked Heaven, trying my best not to look at his eyes.

"No thanks," Heaven replied.

"Sige na," he said.

"Okay. Thanks ha," embarrassed again, I took the Pillows from him. We ate in silence until M.A. arrived from nowhere (that’s also the time I realized she left us).

Because I was so cheesy and corny flakes (corn kernels mixed with cheese is delicious no), I kept the foil pack of the Pillows that he gave me though I wanted a real pillow. Yadi pa ‘to ya, I told myself before. Now that I’m letting go and keeping on moving forward, I need to look for it, cut it into thin strips and stuff inside one of the recycled pillows my mother makes.

In the second one, he didn’t share food but he showed another side of him— the singer. I was with my high school friends during a monthly-unplanned little reunion. Our gathering, however, is never without a blast with videoke so we went to Bibo.

The ex-class songbird and a frustrated music major belted out, as if the little room was a centerstage full of awe-struck audience (but there were only four of us). When it was already my turn to hold the golden mic and tweet, the door opened and there he was. My friends, who are now also his(long and different stories), invited him to go inside and sing with us.

His presence made me wish that I was not there. I also thought of making an excuse of going out and shop (shop the mall air for free) but M.A. and the rest wanted to torture me with his presence. He’s a singer, a friend butted in, crashing my perfect get-away plan.

He chose a song, a Josh Groban song (what else?), and tortured me endlessly. M.A. had her eyes on me, recorded my every imaginary pain, and mocked me more with annoying giggles.

I thought I was going to die. My suffering did end when he finished the song, accepted our praises (I also had to contribute. Basi mahambal siya, ‘la ko nanami-an), and left for another appointment.

In the memory of his quick stay, I sang "Crazy for You" (no need to explain why).

The third one was cinematic; it’s as if there was a director behind the school’s bushes and his assistant directors were helping him convince the students to go home early. But I had no script; he didn’t have a clue. We did an impromptu.

That evening, I just finished directing a stage play with my group and overseeing the works of my creative team when M.A. texted me that she’s in the next building. With the thought that we’ll be having dinner together, I went there as fast as I can only to find out that she’s not hungry —and she’s with him, working on with a school must-do.

My hunger overpowered my feelings for him so I walked outside the university—alone— and had a quick dinner.

When I returned, they were still working and even managed to insert a badminton game while I forced myself to read the only magazine within my reach- YES magazine.

Probably reading my boredom, he started explaining why they’re playing; it’s for mental workout daw and in advertising companies in Manila, they usually have a game area inside their buildings, etc. I know, I want to tell him that I’m not dumb or I didn’t get the reason behind why they’re not working.

I convinced myself that I have to go home so I started to check if everything’s inside my bag. "Mauna ko, guys," I told them, standing from my seat.

"Hulata na lang kami," M.A. said. "B’was naman ‘ni a."

I didn’t have any choice but to wait for them though I really wanted to flash out asap. After the door was locked, I asked M.A. if she and her roommate were going outside. No, they replied.

"Upod na lang kamo ni ano* g’wa," M.A. said, displaying her evil smile.

I threw her a dagger look, then moved to where he was, and said our goodnights to the girls. We started walking toward the gate, which is only three to six minutes but it seemed like eternity to me.

The whole university was so quiet; I could only hear the leaves brushed against another, the melody of sirum-sirums, our light footsteps against the pavement, and our controlled breathing.

The props director did her job very well as the whole university had almost all of its lamp posts turned on, giving off a monochromatic effect to our "only us" scene. Our blocking was almost perfect as we only had like 5 inches away from each other. Since we don’t have scripts, we tried our best to supply the lines.

"Diin ka gapuli," he asked me. Probably,he noticed that I will never talk unless spoken to.

"Sa Jaro. Ikaw?" I asked him back to make the conversation longer.

"Sa *bleep* (somewhere not so far out there— where my father buys his favorite lechon manok)," he replied.

Awkward silence, only our footsteps were talking to each other. I don’t know what he’s thinking that night or during the time when we’re walking. I only snatched glimpses of him, tracing his features with my stare, starting from the contours of his chin up to the his nose, his cheeks, and his eyes.

"Ano gani ang puwede masakyan pakadto Smallville?" He asked after almost two dead minutes of silence, breaking my gaze, which was then caressing the strands of his hair.

"Depende kon sa diin ka maagi," I replied, wondering if he’s just stupid of not knowing how to get to Smallville since he almost rides the jeep everyday (though I know they have a tarak-tarak).

"Kon indi ka magtabok, sakay ka Jaro Liko then Sta. Barbara or Leganes. If matabok ka, Liko man gihapon and naog ka sa Jaro, then sakay kay Leganes," I continued, now fearing that he might get lost so I added, "Hambala lang ang driver." (Hahahahha!)

"Matabok ‘ko," I told him as our monochromatic-cinematic scene ended when we stepped outside the rusty gates of the university.

"Upod na lang ‘ta," he said.

Together, we crossed the road where he was on my left. I wanted to grab his hand and feel the creases of his palm, or move closer to him and link my arm around his. But I didn’t. Basi makibot siya kag maipit kami. Hehe.

One Response to “Forgetting the Remembered Part IV”

  1. Pearly Says:

    You write very well.

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