...more to lose...

…we used to cry about the day when one of us might fall,

weak and blindly, into another's arms.

demands are gained from jealousies, would flow like water drowning us
but leaving us with just another lover's false alarm…

Stacey struggled hard, squinting her eyes, trying to decipher what word it was that she is finding difficult to read. It was her own handwriting, from decades ago when she was still young and naïve. The diary entry was dated August 24, and was a record of the events of that particular day, so descriptive that Stacey can actually feel how she had giggled while writing that down.  It was the day she and Rico became a couple.

Stacey paused for a breath, and flashbacks of how Rico looked seemed to blurly come into her memory. She was barely out of college then, and he was a prince to her young eyes. She remembered how her heart skipped a beat when Rico first said hi to her, and introduced himself. Details of that introduction now escape her, but she was certain it was the moment when her knees almost failed her. She skimmed a few pages back, and she was retold of the moments prior to this particular day.

Rico came to live with his relatives in her street, a newcomer to her village, and yet, he easily became friends with most of Stacey’s friends. One hello led to another, and after several more hello’s, Stacey found herself going out with Rico on dates that she actually was avoiding. Rico had his ways of swooning her, and the words she used to describe them in her diary were something Stacey was finding incredible now. They exchanged letters, some of which Stacey remembered keeping in a shoe box under her bed. She’ll hunt for them tomorrow, she thought to herself, and try to read some if she can.

Then came August 24, a Saturday. A friend was celebrating her birthday with a dance party, typical of the times then. Stacey of course was there. And so was Rico. He had asked her for a dance. Stacey was quite disappointed with herself for not mentioning in the diary what music it was they danced to, but in hindsight, she was glad she now has no chance of reminiscing.

Stacey felt intrigued with what was written in that diary, but the pangs of reality was there to bite her. She reads:

               Rico asked me, “ Stace, ngayon ko gustong itanong syo, mahal mo na ba ako?”

               I answered with a pause, “ewan ko.”

               R: “e di ibig sabihin pala hindi totoo yung mga sinusulat mo?”

               S: “totoo yun! Isusulat ko ba yun kung hindi totoo?”

             Long, long talk (fast forward) I asked her about Janet, and he said “wala ako diyan!”

               And finally he asked me, “Stace, meron na ba tayo?”

               S: “ikaw, gusto mo ba?”

               R: “ikaw, nag-aalinlangan ka ba kay Janet?”

               S: “hindi. Natatakot lang ako pag nalaman ng parents ko.”

               R: “e ‘di itago natin. O ano, walang makakaalam nyan. Payag ka ba?”

               After a long, long, long pause, I finally said “yes!”

Streams of memories started gushing down her closed eyes, as if on cue some movie was played for her to remember everything that came after that fateful day. She didn’t need any more of the entries after that day in her diary to help her remember. The pangs of reality was there to do that for her. Stacey was nonetheless surprised to note that that was the second to the last entry.

…and now it's over, both of us free… but I feel colder…

She was naïve; that was all she could muster to comfort herself. She did nothing wrong, She was young and naïve. Stacey closed the diary, while she allowed those memories to come to her. She was feeling heavy in her chest. Maybe it was anger, maybe it was regret, or maybe it was a strong feeling of hatred for Rico, she may never know.

She loved Rico blindly. There, she was now ready to admit it. And more.

…a thousand tortured lives have fallen, wounded dying cut down by the

questions that we've sharpened just to save our losing days

we thought we'd nothing more to lose we'd tear our hearts with jagged truths

and everything we'd hung to for so long just slipped away…

Theirs was a whirlwind romance. Stacey could count with her fingers and toes everything she did for him. Rico did not need much to make her do what he wanted because Stacey would give in willingly. She remembers now that he had a way of swooning her, as if she was hypnotized. Yes, that’s it, she reasoned with herself. I was duped! Stacey was feeling more of the hate that she tried to suppress for so long. She had no one to talk to about Rico, not when her friends were nowhere when all this was happening, and certainly not her family. They would have had a more terrible reaction than they did if they ever learned.

She gave Rico everything. That was how deep she fell in love with him. He was her first. They had planned their lives so perfectly together. She was ready to marry him and start their happy family as soon as they had settled down.  And as naïve as she was, she thought that all that love she gave was equally reciprocated.

…and now it's over, both of us free… but I feel colder…

Then came the big bomb. One day, sometime when all of their plans seemed to be falling in place, their lives were suddenly torn apart. Stacey saw in her mind how she picked up the ringing phone, and heard, in her mind, Margaret’s voice. She was Rico’s wife.

…i was tired of thinking that our love can shine your thoughts

of our arrangements, were really not like mine

i thought it over, and it was plain to see the love you said you once needed

could just not come from me…

Every recollection of the events after that memory became a blur to Stacey. These were all that she tried so hard to forget. But that giddy feeling reading that very old diary entry started all this downhill feeling she is experiencing right now. She hates him; that is for sure. But not anymore. Stacey calmed herself, by looking at the calendar, which showed the year. It had been over fifteen years since. She is no longer the young girl she was when she fell so desperately in love with Rico. Although this was something she could not bear to tell anyone, she finally decided she would bear it no more. She is finally free of him, and his memory.

Stacey flipped the next pages of the diary. There was one last entry. It was just his name written against the now yellowing paper. She closed the book, took the shoe box from under her bed, stood up and walked outside. She took a lighter, and set all those documents on fire. She whispered softly, I’m free now.

Stacey heard her husband James call out from inside the house, “Hon, what are you doing outside? Come on in, it’s cold out there!” She paused, gave a relieved smile to the darkness in front of her, and replied, “I was just finishing this cigarette. I’ll be right in.”

…and now it's over, both of us free… but I feel colder…

And now we're moving to new beginnings

But as we move we looked once behind

To see what we might find out

Lost loves and old thoughts of our nights of winnings

That lunge, tear and grasp

At lost wanting minds

...starry starry night...

Rachel leaned back casually, putting the weight of her upper body on her two outstretched arms, and giving her legs freedom to move about in front of her. She let a soft night breeze touch her cheeks, as she closed her eyes and raised her head into the sky above. The moon shone like a bright beacon high up in the cloudless, star-filled night. She opened her eyes to the hope that a falling star would dash across the sky towards the horizon for her, because in her heart she was harboring a wish she so dearly wanted – no, needed, to be fulfilled.

Rachel felt the metal of the roof beneath her start to send its chill up her arms. The soft wind was also licking her bare shoulders. Her strapped dress was no help in covering herself from the cold that was slowly creeping inside her. But it wasn’t the wind or the roof that felt the coldest. It was the sense of uncertainty that she was facing.

Towards the east Rachel could identify the constellation Orion. She remembered it well, because Chris taught her how to make an imaginary line across the heavens so she could find her zodiac, Aries. She could imagine his finger pointing to the stars that guide her from one point to another, and she could still hear his voice as he patiently directed her to Aries, the Ram. They would spend countless hours together, including those on that roof just being lost in each other’s thoughts and arms and lips. Tonight she was tracing the stars alone.

Rachel closed her eyes again, but this time to stop a tear from falling. And in the utter darkness that followed, she saw Chris. His face, his eyes, his smile… Rachel never wanted to open her eyes again because she knew that he wasn’t sitting next to him anymore.

Two weeks ago was the eighth of the month, the day both of them had dreaded for the last three months and never wanted to come. It was the day they knew would be hardest, because it was the day Chris would leave for another country and stay there for good. He had accepted a position with the company and he was taking his wife and kids with him.

Rachel loves Chris, despite everything – him being married, she being in a relationship herself. And now that he is gone, she was longing for him even more. She felt, as the cliché-ic line went, more than a woman when she was with him. He knew all the things that Rachel wanted, and he gave them without reservations. Theirs was the materialization of a love that could have been, given the right circumstances. But fate wasn’t on their side, and now she was left alone to watch the night sky like they used to do together.

Rachel lit a cigarette, and the burst of light from the match stick momentarily blinded her. The tear that was swelling in her eyes had dried. She let go one heavy heave of smoke into the air, and formed like thin clouds blurring the moon. She knew she will always have the night sky with Chris. She could never share this moment with anyone else, not even her fiancé.

Rachel gave up in her search of that one shooting star. Her wish stayed unwished, and she closed her eyes for that one last cry. No tear fell, but her heart was breaking. Around her the world is starting to stir up, and the sky was slowly turning deep blue, telling her that a new morning was at hand. The moon was fading. She whispered her last wish to the moon, that someday, somewhere, and somehow, her life and Chris’s will be one again. But for now, she decided, she will leave the stars alone.

Her phone rang; it’s Mark. She knew it won’t be easy, but this phone call would be the start.

...must have been... (May 16, 2005)

There’s only a single piece of pickle in his hamburger, Luke noticed. It’s not fair. There’re two hamburger patties between two slices of hamburger buns. It’s only right that there should also be two pieces of pickles. Luke protested wildly in his mind while examining his dinner. He had been eating slowly for twenty minutes now, trying to delay the burger’s fate until later, and he was on his fifteenth bite when he discovered the injustice. It was a symptom of a man nearing the conclusion that he’d just been stood up.

His handy pocket watch that oftentimes doubles as his cellular phone showed 6:03 - one thousand nine hundred and eighty seconds past their agreed time. He had already noticed the coming and going of several groups of college students from a nearby school. He’d already heard many stories about the latest biology assignment, of how the professor looked today, and of what Mariah might be wearing in her upcoming concert. The store’s CD had gone two cycles already and is about to make a third. And the hapless burger is the current target of ire of a nearly desperate man.

But she said she would come. And because he knew her, he believes she will.

He took a sip of his soda, now tasting more like water. He wondered if sodas could go stale like the chocolate drink his brother forgot in the ref for two weeks. He took another sip, and hoped that he will not have to wait in that store long enough to find out. At least the soda’s still fine. And the burger’s nearing the end of its existence as he was on his twenty sixth bite, which resembles more a rat nibble than an actual bite.

“I’m so sorry! Have you been here long?” the familiar voice said as the body to which it belonged seemed to drop miraculously on the seat in front of him after having appeared from nowhere. It had a face not peculiar of the words ‘I’m so sorry’ but more of ‘I’ve got fantastic news for you!”

Luke hesitated for a moment. He knew that he has the ace of anger and have every right to play this card. But the curiosity brought about by the excitement on the intruder’s face was irresistible. A good lashing of where-the-hell-have-you-been could never win over a round of okay-spill-the-beans-what-have-you-done at a time like this. He chose to play the jack of shits instead.

“No. I just got here myself.”
“Oh good! I would have hated myself for making you wait very long.” the woman said. Luke suddenly felt the pang of the ace wanting to be played. He felt the strong urge to say ‘go right ahead and hate yourself!’

“You won’t believe who I was with just this morning! Remember the guy we met last night at Chito’s party?”

Luke examined the woman in front of him, and asked himself why he was her friend. The answer came in a series of flashbacks which he swore was like when one’s about to die. He saw himself almost two years ago, slumped in his faded Levi’s Type 1 Jeans and his favorite John Lennon shirt that he found and bought in Mindanao. He wore his tattered Chuck Taylor sneakers. He was holding a bottle of beer in one hand, and a lighter in the other. He doesn’t smoke, but he knew the girls around him in that bar do. He was completely different then from what he was now. That night, he was out to have fun notwithstanding his friends.

The music was blaring, and clouds meander through the thick smoke that filled the small nearly overcrowded bar. He saw her sitting in one corner with her friends. She was wearing her sexy white shirt that read Norma Jean. She was no blonde, but a hottie just the same. He was a patient man; before the long arduous waiting in the burger joint, he had watched her every move that night, like an eagle keeping eye on a prairie dog. Then the opportune moment came. Armed with the lighter in his one hand, he swooped in for the kill when she picked up a cigarette from her purse. It was as if Popeye saved his damsel Olive from distress. He asked her for her name but she gave him her number as well. They parted for the night only to become together again a week after, when the story of how they met ended, and the story of how they became friends began.

She was a free bird, meant to fly high and soar the skies. Luke surrendered to this conclusion after four or five dates with her. He could never have the heart to be the cage that keeps her wings clipped. Add the fact that she would not permit him to be either. Luke, however, realized that flying high she runs the danger of the hunters that mean to shoot her down. The long hard fall is a risk Luke knew he could not prevent her from taking. And so he receded into the background and patiently weaved the protective net of friendship with which to catch her just in case. They went out, did things together, and bonded like Dharma and Greg, except that Luke knew he wasn’t Greg, and she wasn’t Dharma.

The years swiftly passed by almost unnoticed. Luke’s shoulders became witness to many of her wet eyes, and countless beer bottles had been emptied to drown her otherwise pathetic love life, or the lack of it. Her spirited heart still remained uncontained. Father Luke had given numerous homilies and written hundreds of “trusting for dummies” and “the complete idiot’s guide to love.” She heard every sermon, and had every copy. But her altitude must have really masked any sound, or caused understanding difficulties.

Then one night, on the eve of their 516th day of knowing each other’s existence, Luke was preparing his comfort net for her when he slipped, and fell himself. Though he would still bear the net and spread it every time the hunter hits her wings, he would never look at her the same way again.

Until today, when his trance was broken by her loud shriek, “Are you even listening?!”

Luke almost bolted suddenly from his sleep like jolted by high voltage. He searched his surroundings for landmarks that might anchor him back to reality. He secretly bit his lips to check if he was still alive. He is. But telling from an ignored woman’s sudden outburst, he might not soon be.

“Yes… I… you… you were talking about how good ATC looked today. Was that Francesco or Cardams where you went in?” Luke repeated her last few words, hoping he had heard them correctly. She had been telling her tale for the past fifteen minutes or so already. Luke thought that maybe flashbacks on the last day of his life would last much longer.

“Oh! He’s got to be the one, Luke. I just know he is!” she was turning red with excitement, like the bouquet of roses she once got from Luke last valentines day when she decided against a valentine romance. “He’s everything I ever dreamt my man would be. And he knows how to cook. I like a man who cooks.”

“You should have gone out with the caterer to your sister’s birthday then.”

“Don’t be silly! And don’t ruin this moment for me; help me out here. Pretend you’re happy for me.” She said, with the teasing eyes of a little sister asking him to let her take the car for tonight. He didn’t like it.

“Well, I’m not. Not this time. Don’t you think you’ve had too many of these things to last you your lifetime? Why don’t you find someone who’s really meant for you?” Luke mustered some strength to say those words. He could have acted enough to merit some sort of award. With this, she looked him in the eye.

“And who, may I boldly ask, would be that ‘someone who’s really meant for me’?” She had her arms akimbo, and Luke prepared himself incase of an assault, as most women were wont to.

“Me.”

Silence, as most people would claim, has very little effect on the deaf. But for those who can hear, silence can be deafening. The one that fell between them was worse. For seconds, everything stood still. Luke felt like the twilight zone suddenly took over. They were both frozen in a stare into each other’s eyes. His eyes searched hers for any hint – perhaps a glimmer, or a squint in the sides - that could give him a clue of what was going on inside her mind. There was none; either Luke didn’t see it, or he totally didn’t know what he was looking for. Like all silences, this one had to be broken.

“No. It just can’t possibly be.” she whispered under a soft breath, following a heavy heave. She broke eye contact, and turned the other way. “I have to go.”

“But you just got here. And what about that movie you said we’d be seeing?” Luke tried to break the ice, desperately trying to hide a smirk in the corner of his lips.

“No. I really have to go.” With that she took her glasses that she laid on the table in front of her. She hurriedly put them on and stood as fast as she could. She stormed out the door and disappeared from his sight. The body to which the familiar voice belonged was gone as suddenly as it had come.

Luke looked at his burger. There was no more sign of the lone pickle that brought him a great debacle earlier. Only a small part with patties and buns remained. Luke held it closer. With a big, satisfied smile pasted like fresco in his face, he placed the last piece of burger in his mouth as if to say, ‘fate has been sealed’.

...indecision... (May 16, 2005)

She felt suffocated. Her heaves were getting heavier by the minute. She could imagine beads of sweat forming on her forehead. It’s the indecision that’s killing her now. She was moments away from making a life with someone, or breaking an almost perfect and happy relationship with that someone.

It was the morning after a very wonderful date. The hangover of a seemingly love filled night was at its peak. She still had that sparkle in her eyes, the same sparkle she thought she must have worn the night before when he was a breath away from her. In her eyes she still bore the battle scars of a failed attempt at a first kiss. She could not remember whose fault it was, but surely both of them held back when it was about to materialize. She was hesitant; he didn’t have a clue what was going on.

She looked herself in the mirror. There was a hint of uncertainty in her deep brown eyes. She wanted to ask herself if she actually and finally felt love for this guy, or was this simply an extension of a high school infatuation. She had to know.

She scoured her face in the mirror, looking for a sign she might be somebody different from who she knew she was. Perhaps a hint of loneliness was trying to surface, or something missing was making its absence felt. She failed; she was the same woman she grew up with. She was pretty, she knows it, and she was leaning a bit towards vanity. But that does not make for an excuse to want the company of this man. No, there was no loneliness. At times, she would go to places alone. But never was she lonely. She always managed to be happy. And no, there was nothing missing in her life. Yes she must have had a few relationships gone sour, and the one man that gave her the best gift she has now wasn’t man enough to be with her. But she considered every past experience a lesson to be learned, and not a hurt that should clutter in her closet. She had her life ahead of her. The face that’s staring at her through the mirror was the one face she was striving to keep a smile indelibly painted on. This thought did, and it was a smile of satisfaction.

She could breathe well now. The sparkle from last night was gone. In its place was the brilliance of determination. She had to let him know. She had to tell him this whole thing would not work.

Her phone rang. She picked it up and listened. The voice on the other line was incredibly familiar; she felt tingles down her spine. It was he. He was calling for the morning after. She listened. He spoke. His was simply all the pleasantries of good morning's, hi’s, and hello’s. Still he managed to make her knees weak, and a terrible urge to speak to him ensued inside her. She held back, for fear she might say the wrong words, and give him the wrong message. She wanted to say what she had just decided upon moments ago about them not working together. But her tongue was stopped by her intent on continuing to listen to his voice. And then he noticed.

With his “are you still there? what’s going on? are you alright?” she hanged up. She wanted a much better time for him to listen to what she had to say.

The seconds passed unhindered. Time cannot be stopped from doing what it does best – pass by. It is the only thing that survives by spending itself away, and no matter what happens, time will continue to pass. This too, she decided, must pass. So she dialed his number. When he said his hello, her first words were the four most dreaded and fateful words in the English language, “we have to talk.”

And she told him. She unleashed her thoughts. She made sure he knew she wanted this to stop, before it gets any worse. Every word that transcended from her thoughts through her tongue hit its mark on him. And she felt he understood everything. His silence was her confirmation.

At last she was done. The conversation seemed to last an eternity. Goodbyes were always the hardest times, and the longest. She was not ending their relationship because she didn’t want him. It was because she was afraid she might soon. Deeply. Inescapably. Eventually. She could not afford that, not just yet.

Just before she felt triumph over herself for accomplishing what she set out to do, he had his final words to her. After a long pause that marked several ticks in time, he spoke. And the sound that followed was the indifference of the telephone line being cut. He had hung up. Still holding her phone against her left ear, she could hear his words echoing in the abyss he had created in her mind.

“Don’t ever let yourself be miserable. Don’t put yourself in a situation where you’ll be short-changed. Coz you’re one woman worth losing life and limb for.” She knew this meant something very complex, and her self-beliefs were shaken again. These words came from someone she almost fell in love with, and who doesn’t have the slightest clue what was going on.

The mirror showed another face, one that was breathing heavily. The indecision has brought the suffocation back.

...union... (May 16, 2005)

In her mind raced thoughts of him as she stepped off the car. It had been three months now since she last heard of him. And now was the day they both feared would come, but eventually looked forward to. This was the day they promised each other to meet again, to take that one last chance, because tomorrow is goodbye.

She fidgeted and hesitated a bit before entering that small surfing resort up north. She had braved the five-hour journey just so she could be at the right place at the right time. And indeed she was, she remembered the place. But as composure returned to her, she could not remember the face of the name she had come to say goodbye to. Her heart knew better, and it sensed his nearness. With eyes beaming with hope and an ardent uncertainty she searched the crowd now gathered to look back at her.

Then he was there.

He waved at her, and solicited a deep sigh of relief from her. She offered him a smile, of which he indescribably returned. A few steps and they were again within arms away from each other. Her face radiated the joy she felt just being with him again. She had loved him, indeed. But not anymore, or so at least she thought. And this thought was something she had three months to convince herself was real. She had promised herself the night before that it was indeed goodbye. She came there for a purpose, and she wasn’t about to sway from that purpose. She had come to say goodbye.

But he was so near. She could smell him, and her arms yearned to reach out and wrap him again. Her lips certainly missed his, and she wondered what the price would be for another taste of his kiss. He was exactly the man she remembered him to be, the same masculinity that again made her heart thump wild. While saying her pleasantries, she looked at every part of him but his eyes. She knew that if she did, then she could never do what she came here to do.

He too was there for the same reason, but without that which held her back. And as she wrapped her arms around him for one last time, she knew. Three months had changed a lot. He was different now, as was she. Only, she wanted more convincing of the truth, he already felt the truth. Her hopes of rekindling their love went unreciprocated.

Her embrace tightened as she whispered her last few breaths into his ears. The word goodbye flew swiftly, and she held back the tears bidding to fall. She dare not let them. She had coerced herself to be tough. She had psyched herself for this. This is only goodbye, nothing more. There will be no regrets, she said. And she turned around. With head held up high, she walked away from him.

In her mind raced thoughts of him as she went into the car. It’s another five-hour journey home. There’s plenty of time for the tears to fall.