For Everything (16) He recounted the story of how pathetic it was to end it all on a Christmas night. She laughed it off but deep down she was bitter, bitter as ever. "Eight months of happiness and immense pain. Was it all worthwhile?" she thought aloud. "Was it?" She could only look down and tap her fingers on the marble counter. Tap, tap, tap. The rhythm was making her crazy. But tap-tap-tapping was better than the insufferable thoughts in her head. "Was it?" The question flew again. The answer was something she could never define. Too many times, too many misconceptions, a great deal of misunderstanding. Something that started out so pure ended so horribly. Her crazy thoughts became a blur. “Was it painful?” “No.” “Was it alright?” “No.” She knew it would end this way. She knew it all too well. And she allowed it to happen. Come on. You deserved it.. was all she could offer to comfort her tattered soul. "Then why?" She wanted to speak but his pleading eyes made it impossible. "I missed you." She missed him, too. But she knew she couldn’t. Not anymore. If my life were a movie, that would have been the turning point. The beginning of the end. The one scene where the viewers would gasp, perhaps shed a few tears, and maybe understand the point of it all. Perhaps they would nod and sigh; or whisper “Ahh. So that’s it. That’s what happened. And that’s how things should turn out to be.” Some of the audience might root for the heroine— for her who was still longing for the old days to be back, but could never find the courage to just go after her heart’s desires. They might think her vulnerable but not weak, see her as someone who needed some saving but would just never allow herself to be saved. But most of the audience will root for the hero— for him who thought he knew her all along but kept guessing what she was thinking. For the man who never wanted to leave but had to because she pushed him. For the forlorn soul, for the light that she dimmed. I am most of the audience. I will root for him, too. Even if I am the heroine. And what I did to him was painful. You know what’s even more painful, though? Having to live each and every day after he was gone; as if the world didn’t stop when he left. Having to pick up the pieces alone. Having to look okay, sound okay, act okay, when okay is everything I’m not. So why, then, do I have to go through the agony of seeing him just when I’m beginning to get used to a life without him? I know the answer. Because life has a funny, funny way. And because I deserve to go through it all over again. And not just the pain— though it is always there beneath the surface waiting to be scratched. No, never just that. There is also the all-too-familiar flutter. Especially when he walks through the door and turns to look at me with sparkling eyes, wearing a smile like nothing I have ever seen before. That smile is probably one of the best sights I have seen in the years since he left. He looks like a wonder, like he is from some other world. He looks like all the stars have decided to arrange themselves in the most beautiful way possible and succeeded brilliantly. I do not smile until he sees me. And then we see each other the way we used to see each other. He sees me for me and only me. I see him for him and only him. I could not believe that the moment is finally happening after so much pining and dreaming. I don’t know what I look like. I imagine that my smile is practically ear to ear but I’m neither sure nor do I care. I just focus on him. I soak in his long-awaited presence like sun rays on a beach. There are so many things I want to say but none seems quite right or like they are enough for that matter. I have not stopped thinking about him in his time away. There have been so many hours while walking and on buses, planes, and trains that images of him raced through my mind. And now that I get to see him again in the flesh, I still have no idea what to say. He starts walking towards me, his movement so fluid like the night sky weaving around its stars. My mind forms sentences about how much I missed him. About how much I loved him. He begins to open his arms for a hug. I follow suit and move to meet him halfway. And then we embrace, sending warmth and chills at the same time throughout my body. We stand there in each other’s arms for what could only be described as eternity crammed into a few seconds. I get caught up in the moment and steal a kiss off his cheek, not even thinking that the act is bold, even for two people who once shared more than that. Suddenly it’s over. He pulls away and gives me a confused look. "Julie…" he whispers with a shocked and puzzled expression. I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I am blushing. I give a slight smile and lie. “Sorry, I guess your excitement rubbed off on me a bit more than I thought." "Haha. Okay." "Hello, Elmo." "Hello again, Jules." I resume my smile. We sit down at the same time, still smiling at each other, probably enjoying the view— me enjoying it more than he does. "Been a long time," he says, like every other movie character would say when they haven’t seen a person in a really long time. As if the obvious still has to be stated. "Oo nga. Ang tagal mo ding nawala." "But I’m back," he says wistfully, as if he himself couldn’t believe it. I nod. He stares at me again. I feel his eyes burning, even when I start to shift my gaze. "You look… even prettier. Like—" "So kelan ka pa dito?" I cut him off in a loud voice, willing him not to say any more words that would have me running into his arms again even before the conversation could actually begin. "The— the other day," he buckles, realizing what I’m trying to do. “Pinuntahan kita sainyo. Wala na pala kayo dun." "Yeah. Uh, we moved. And hindi na rin ako nakatira kina Mommy eh. I have a place of my own now." "Like you’ve always dreamed of having. Congratulations, Julie." "Thank you," I murmur. I swallow hard, hating how he still remembers. But that’s how it is with him. He notices the smallest things and remembers the little details and I am in love with that. Shoot. A deafening silence ensues. If my life were a movie, this would have been the part where the soundtrack plays a major role, drowning the characters in their thoughts as the notes surround their non-speaking bodies. But no music plays. And the silence drones on. "Why did you have to see me?" "Huh?" "I’m asking you why you had to see me." "Kelangan ba may rason?" Yes, Elmo. There has to be a reason. "Nagtataka lang ako. I mean, we haven’t talked to each other in years." "Maybe that’s the reason. We haven’t talked to each other in years. Siguro gusto ulit kitang makausap." He’s making it sound easier than it really is. Oh he has no idea of the riot that this is causing my insides to have. "Pero bakit nga?" "Ang weird naman kasi na nakabalik na ko tapos di man lang ako makikipagkita sayo. May pinagsamahan tayo. Hindi ko nakakalimutan yun." Like I would ever forget, Elmo. Like I would ever be able to forget. "But why… why did it take years for you to come back?" How could you leave me and not talk to me again? How could you— "I thought that was what you wanted," he says, shattering my silent accusations. “Yun ang gusto mo di ba? For me to leave." "It’s just… I keep going back to that night and.. and…" "Ako din naman eh. There hasn’t been a single Christmas when I haven’t thought of you. Of what happened. Ang tagal na pala, noh? And we picked a very special time, Julie. A very special day," he murmurs, laughing dryly. If my life were a movie, this would have been the part where I give him a line that the viewers will keep quoting for days to come; then walk away after saying it. But I just keep listening to him go on and on about what happened. I start to wonder why he doesn’t even sound hurt, just conversational. I start to wonder if rekindling friendship with him is worth the deep-seeded pain that it causes. But then I remind myself that as long as I get to keep the happiness of being around him, then it is all worth it. "Bata pa tayo nun, Elmo," I inject in between his story. "Haha. Yeah. We didn’t even last a year." "Eight months of happiness and immense pain. Was it all worthwhile?" I boldly ask. "Was it?" I begin that crazy movement that I do with my fingers. Tap-tap-tap. I refuse to think. I refuse to brood. "Was it?" Nothing has changed. He doesn’t take silence for an answer. My head spins and my thoughts blur until I turn into an unthinking but all-feeling blob. “Was it painful?” “No.” Hell, yes. “Was it alright?” “No.” "Then why?" Because, Elmo. Because. "I missed you." Oh, god, help. "I promised myself I wouldn’t tell you that," he says. “That I missed you." His voice is so faint I’m sure only I can hear it. "Why?" I stare into his eyes. I can’t figure out what he’s thinking of. "I can’t tell you." "Why not?" "Because you won’t understand," he whispers with a sad smile. My heartbeat starts elevating. "How do you know I won’t understand if you don’t tell me?" I torture myself and urge him further. He shakes his head and rests his eyes on mine. My body stiffens when I feel how every little thing that I felt for him back then are coming to surface. "I thought I was strong. Now I’m not so sure." And once again, I have no idea what he’s talking about— just that it could have been about us, or something else entirely. My brain feels numb. My body, however, is warmer than the warmth of that little cafe. And that’s when he begins to laugh and veer the conversation to a more mundane topic— a safe one. That’s when he starts filling me in on what he has done in the eternity that I haven’t seen him. That’s also when I imagine my lips sinking into his like the cup of tea he is daintily consuming on this concrete weather. I watch him gaze over the gloom hovering above the city while contemplating on the possibility of rain. I let his words be the rhythm of silence for a while until I speak my concurrence with him. In between sips, I then tell him that the skies are most beautiful when showers trickle down and cascade like rapids on the ground. I pause, lingering on a smile peering from the corner of his face. “Well, Julie. Look at that. It’s starting to rain," he renders in a voice that feels so much like home. And it’s pouring. And it’s also how I’m falling for him again— intensely and inevitably. "This reunion would have been futile if there hasn’t been a rainshower," he jokes. "Yeah, well, salamat sa ulan. Haha." "Thank you din for agreeing to this. I was thinking that you wouldn’t come. But I was praying hard that you would." "No worries, Moe. Alam mo namang di kita matitiis." He gives me that smile that I badly missed— that one smile that immensely increases the beauty of the universe. That one smile that has me wondering— what will happen now? But Elmo, my sweet Elmo, is the risk I’ll always take. We met at the wrong time. That’s what I keep telling myself at least. Maybe one day, eternities from now, we’ll meet again in a coffee shop in a faraway city somewhere and we could… perhaps… give it another shot.
Posted on: Tue, 06 Aug 2013 18:02:43 +0000