Days to Thirty-Five

Jeff

His name was Jeff.

I know the name probably has no significance to you, but to me it has—well, at least as of late, especially now that I’ve found out that this is his name.

Because, for the past twelve months of my existence, all I know is that he is that guy whom I see at the smoking area (but who doesn’t smoke), who has intense and expressive eyes that makes you feel like you’re being x-rayed when they stare at you, and a smile that only a few people are allowed to see but takes your breath away every single time.

It was a rainy day when I had first encountered him. He was in the elevator with me, getting on at the fourth floor, and we were walking down the same street up until the moment he turned at the curb. He wasn’t bringing an umbrella, and the Good Samaritan side of me wanted to offer him cover for he’d surely get wet. But the shy part of me had won over, and I didn’t offer him my umbrella, but I sure offered him my attention.

It was the first time I stared at him, first time I wished I knew him, first time I knew I’d never forget that face. His face had haunted me in my dreams—and I meant that in a good way (sort of). His face made me check the people I am with in the elevators every single time.

The second time I saw him was some sort of eye-opener for me. I thought I wouldn’t see him again, but when I was coming down the street from 7/11, carrying my trusty coffee with me, I glanced at the smoking area where—more often than not—some cute guys huddle, and I saw him there, in a serious talk with his friends. It was then that I realized that (1) he could be a smoker; and (2) he’s a real person. Real in the sense that I can see him, and I can encounter him more than once, and he’s just not a figment of my very wild and lonely imagination.

And hey, it’s not that I’ve got issues with smokers, but…

Okay. I’d leave that one at that.

And remember me telling you I thought he was from the fourth floor? Well, he isn’t.

He’s from the ninth floor and the fourth floor, but he stays more at the ninth (his company has offices on both floors, kinda like mine, which occupies at least three floors in the building). And what do you know?

My office is on the tenth.

I could enumerate the number of times I have seen Mr. At the Smoking Area Who Doesn’t Smoke (ASAWDS for short? Ha, ha), but for the risk of boring you before my story ends, I wouldn’t.

I could also tell you that I have caught him staring at my direction a couple of times, but it would be safer for me to assume that it wasn’t me he was staring at. Safer for the heart.

I’d rather tell you of when he had finally talked to me, when he had asked me out, when it all began and something else—all in thirty-five days.

 

Would someone care to classify

Our broken hearts and twisted minds

So I can find someone to rely on

And run to them

To them

Full speed ahead

Oh, you are not… useless

We are just…

Misguided ghosts

Travelling endlessly

The ones we trusted the most

Pushed us far away

-Misguided Ghosts, Paramore

Day One: Broken Hearts

I have a broken heart. And I mean that literally—not figuratively, because love life-wise, my heart’s just fine. I’m doing okay with self-sustaining love, thank you.

I have a heart condition—something that my doctor discovered when I was a kid—but I am doing just fine for the past twenty years of my life without this ailment bothering me—until this past week.

On a normal day, my heart would not act up. I would not get chest pains. I would not have difficulty in breathing, nor would I want to collapse because of the pain. But for every single day in the past week, my heart chose varied times to make its presence felt—some more painful than the others, some is as painful as an ant bite.

Today, however, it went to the extremes in reminding me of my heart ailment.

I was in the elevators, headed back to the office after running an errand (for myself, haha, I paid my bills), when I felt the first wave of attack. I held my breath—for it usually stops when I do that—but I can’t go on not breathing, so I breathed in a gulp of air and I had to lean against the elevator wall for support because the pain was just… extreme, like sharpened knife tips pressing a million times on my heart.

My companion in the elevator was apathetic—which was understandable since I was partly conscious not to alarm him that his co-passenger is having severe chest pains—but he was glancing at me, a worried look on his face. He was almost too glad and relieved when the elevator stopped, and he quickly went out.

I don’t think this is a heart attack.

Well, is it? How would I know if it is a heart attack?

I looked up at the floor where we stopped, and it flashed me the number 9. I had the sanity to realize that this is the floor where Mr. ASAWDS works.

And what do you know?

He is standing at the entrance to the elevator.

And it was at this moment when my heart just chose to gave me its wildest and most painful wallop as of yet.

My heart seared in pain, making me gasp, and I was about to fall on the elevator floor when a pair of arms caught me. It wasn’t clear to me what had happened next, only that I felt the arms lift me and carry me out of the elevator and then we were on the floor, my head in the owner of the arms’ lap, and I felt a soft, gentle hand stroking my hair. I felt someone was also trying desperate to give me air by using a folder and fanning it above me.

“Miss, I know you’re not okay, but what hurts?” a gentle voice asked, and I slowly opened my eyes. I felt cold sweat break across my forehead and my entire body. The pain in my chest still wasn’t stopping, and I was breathing heavily.

When my vision had focused, my heart gave another jolt that could probably be unrelated to the initial bout of pain when I saw it was my crush that had pulled me out of the elevator. “What hurts?” I asked back. He nodded. “My heart hurts,” I said weakly, and a confused look flashed across his handsome face. And then he smiled. This bozo thought I was joking.

“For real, it hurts—not the love life kind of way,” I said, and he looked alarmed. That is the right reaction.

“We’ll take you to the hospital,” he suggested, but I shook my head.

“No,” I said vehemently. “Just give me a couple of minutes. It’ll settle—I hope.” He looked like he was about to protest, but he changed his mind at the last minute. I felt him nod, and I waited for both my breathing and the pain in my heart to settle. When I felt like I was already okay, I started to sit up, and Crush helped me to it.

It was at that moment when it dawned unto me: we had made quite a scene at the hallway across the elevators. There were five people watching us—a couple of whom are probably Crush’s officemates.

“I—I think I’m fine,” I said, wiping my sweat and trying to stand up. It seemed that when he saw that I was about to fall, he had passed his things to his officemate and hurried to get me, pulled me out, and then slumped onto to the floor, not minding that his crisp, formal clothes would get crumpled. He stood up himself, and offered his hand to help me up. I was blushing furiously now, and this was embarrassing. I still felt remnants of the “attack” in little aftershocks of pain, but this was manageable compared to the huge wave that I got earlier.

“Sure?” he checked, and I nodded. “Thanks for—” I don’t know how to call it—“that,” I merely said, and I looked up to check which floor the elevator is in now. Ground floor. He gave me a half-smile.

“I’d take the stairs,” I told him, and he looked at me warily. I don’t know if he knew that my office is just a floor above his.

“I’d come with you?” he offered, slightly uncertain, but I said no. “I’m just a floor up. I guess my heart can handle the exercise,” I told him, smiling slightly. He hesitated before nodding, and I opened the door to the stairs after thanking him again.

Whoa. Don’t blame me if I have a weird smile on my face as I went up the flight of stairs to my own office.

Day Two: Twisted Minds

We—as in me, Angie, Melai, Rosie, Dette, Frankie, and Gersel, my officemates—were on our way to buy food for lunch and were chatting happily when the doors opened at Mr. ASAWD’s floor, and he—yes, Mr. ASAWDS—stepped in along with three of his officemates. Our chattering stopped, and the smile froze on my face. He saw me, and he gave me a small wave.

“Hey,” he said, and I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I cleared my throat, and replied with a throaty “Hey.” My officemates were shocked—they knew I was crushing on him badly—and they didn’t know that Mr. ASAWDS and I had an encounter yesterday.

“You okay now?” he asked, and I nodded. I turned to my friends, introducing them one by one. “These are Angie, Rosie, Frankie, Dette, Gersel, and Melai. They’re my friends and officemates,” I said, and some gave their smiles and some waved at him. “This is—” I paused, realizing I didn’t know his name.

“Jeff,” he filled in, and I smiled inwardly. I finally got his name.

“Jeff,” I repeated slowly. I am in a daze. I already know his name.

Jeff turned to his friends and said their names, which barely registered in my head. I am still stuck Mr. At the Smoking Area Who Doesn’t Smoke’s name. Jeff.

“This is…?” he paused when he reached me, cueing me that it was my turn to say my name.

“Raya,” I said keeping my voice leveled.

“This is Raya,” he said slowly, and the elevator doors opened, and Jeff and his officemates let us out first. My officemates and his had started off and let me and Jeff talk.

“Nice to see you again,” he said. “Thanks again for yesterday,” I said, my heart pounding in my chest. I waved at him and gave him a wide smile before following my officemates.

The first thing my friends did when I got to them?

You’d think they’d ask how I got to know Jeff finally, but they didn’t—yet.

They squealed in sheer delight, teasing me non-stop about how we’re going to get used to using his real name.

 

“Hey! Raya!”

I frowned. Who is broadcasting my name from across the street?

When I turned, still sipping the Slurpee that I bought for merienda (I know, I know, not filling enough), I saw a few familiar faces, a couple of whom I recognized as the ones Jeff introduced to me and my friends in the elevators.

“Raya,” one of the ladies said breathlessly when they reached me. “I’m Cathy,” she said hurriedly, as if she’s scared to get caught. “It’s Jeff’s birthday tomorrow, and we’re still thinking of a birthday gift for him,” she continued, and I stared at her. What have I got to do with Jeff’s birthday? Of course since he’s my long-time crush, it’s nice to know when his birthday is, but to play a somewhat integral part in it?

“Uh huh?” I said, still clueless.

The guy standing next to her, whom I remembered Jeff introduced as Jake, chimed in.  “I think you remember Jeff? He’s the one who helped you yesterday. He’s also the guy whom you stare at every time you see him and the guy who stares back every single time,” he said in a matter-of-factly tone of voice, as if it was the most basic fact in the world.

I gaped at him. That’s a pretty nice way of putting my liking on Jeff—and did he just reveal to me that Jeff also stares back at times?

“Look, the only way we know that Jeff would have a nice and perfect birthday is for you to maybe greet him. It’ll be a very nice bonus if you will join him for dinner tonight,” Cathy said, and I rolled my eyes. They are tripping on me big time, aren’t they?

I was about to turn and leave them when Jeff appeared, breathless. Apparently he was at his usual tambayan, oblivious that his friends had accosted me, but found out quickly enough before they say anything that he didn’t want them to reveal.

“Hey, what did they tell you?” he asked in between gulps for air, and I frowned. His friends did a quick exit, giving me wide and naughty smiles. “They said it’s your birthday tomorrow,” I said, not looking at him, and I felt him nod in agreement. “That part’s true,” he said, and I flushed in embarrassment.

I finally looked up at him. “Happy birthday in advance, I guess,” I said, shrugging.

“What else?”

“That they want your birthday to be perfect and they asked me if I want to have a dinner with you. Some sort of pre-birthday celeb,” I said, my voice inflectionless. He gaped at me. Apparently, his officemates had planned this without him knowing.

He momentarily looked irritated, and then looked at me. “Uh,” he said hesitantly, “Do you want to? Have dinner, I mean.” I gaped at him. Wow. He is technically asking me out, right?

“Your friends are lying are they?” I said, and he replied, “Yes. I mean, no. Not entirely.”

That sort of hurts, but I let it go.

I shrugged. “I think I can do dinner. If you want to,” I said, and he forced a smile. “I do,” he said, trying to sound a bit convincing. “I’ll see you later, at six? Lobby.” I nodded. “Alright,” I relented. He gave me a mock salute and a smile, and I proceeded, my Slurpee already melted into colored and flavored water. When I looked back at him, he was with his friends, exchanging high fives and laughing. And then I watched him as he sat back down, shaking his head, as if wondering what he had gotten himself into.

 

I was already nervous a few minutes before six, and my officemates were teasing me as to why I was all jumpy all of a sudden. I wonder if I should tell them—maybe some would think I was kidding, or daydreaming, or just plainly crazy. And besides, I couldn’t forget the look on Jeff’s face the last time I saw him—the look of sheer wonder, the look of what-the-hell-is-happening-I-seriously-f*cked-up.

Was I really the one he was eyeing? Did he want this?

Rosie poked me in the ribs to get my attention for we were already at the ground floor. She exited ahead of me, and when I stepped out, I let out a breathless “Holy crap” for Jeff was standing there, a single, long-stemmed red rose in hand, looking like a cute boy begging for chocolates.

“Hey Raya,” he said, and I smiled in response. I am trying to get a feel of him, if he was giving out that vibe that he doesn’t want to spend the night before his birthday with me. He smiled, handing me the rose. Either he was really good at masking that feeling or he really just was almost glad to see me again.

“Wow, thanks,” I said, sniffing the rose for a moment. It smelled sweet and it actually looked fresh. Can you get a flower shop to deliver you just one red rose? I smiled at that thought. Jeff might have actually grabbed this from one of the flower vases in their office—if they have any.

Rosie bid me and Jeff a meaningful goodbye, and I rolled my eyes at her retreating figure as Jeff placed his hand on my elbow. “Shall we?” he asked, and I shrugged. “Sure,” I said. We started off to the parking lot, and I should have expected that a guy who looked like Jeff should also have a car.

Jeff and I walked in silence until we reached a black Altis, and I saw Jeff bring out a key and opened the car with a touch of a button. I went around as he deposited his things into the backseat, but he surprised me when he had beaten me there and had held the door open for me. Jeff waited until I was seated and had clipped on my seatbelt before returning to the driver’s side. He looked at me, his hands on the key in the ignition.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked, and I was stumped. This is awkward in every which way.

“Where do you want to go?” I asked back. “It’s your birthday. I can deal with anything,” I told him. He grinned an evil grin that somehow scared me. I might have given him an idea. What if he would take me to the carinderia nearby?

“Sure?” he asked, his voice naughty. At least I get him to tease me. He’s comfortable enough with me to do so.

“I guess,” I replied, and he nodded at me, smiling brightly. “Okay,” was all he said, and he started the car.

 

I found me and Jeff along a long line of bistros and restaurants in a place I’ve never been to (although I am quite sure it’s in Manila still). He had parked in front of one of the rocking bistros and turned to me. “Do you drink?” he asked.

“As in alcohol?” I asked back, and he smiled. “Is it a habit?” he said softly.

“What?”

That made him grin even wider.

“Answering a question with another question,” he said, and I giggled. “I am just clarifying the question so that I can give you a proper answer,” I explained, not entirely admitting that it was a habit. He is the first person, though, to actually bring it up. Jeff reached out and placed an arm over the headrest of my seat, and I was thankful I didn’t cringe from the surprise. “So do you drink alcohol?” he asked again, and I shook my head.

“Aside from being allergic to it, I have low tolerance for the beverage. I had blacked out more than once by drinking,” I told him, biting my lower lip because I think I offered too much information and that it could be a turn off for him to know that I am not a drinker—even an occasional one.

“That’s alright. I won’t force you to drink, don’t worry. We’ll just eat,” Jeff said, and his hand slid down to unclasp my seatbelt. He leaned over the backseat and hid his laptop in some sort of compartment—I guess he really had it made for times like these—and then he turned to me. “Let’s go?” he asked, and I nodded. He went down the car and I had already pushed my door open when I heard Jeff tsk-ing.

“Ever heard of a gentleman?” he joked, and I laughed. He offered a hand and helped me down the car. “I think that type of men is extinct,” I teased back, and he threw his head back, laughing. “You found a rare breed then,” he said, and I raised my eyebrow as if to protest.

“Really?” I said, a mischievous smile on my face.

“I have my moments,” he said defensively, and I heard him lock the car. “But…?” I prompted when he didn’t continue. “There are times when I slip in being a gentleman and start being aggressive,” Jeff said, and I looked up at him. It was only now that I had realized that he is taller than I am—thank heavens, for it is so frigging hard to find a guy who is taller than my five-foot-eight frame in this lovely country of ours.

“That’s good. I have my moments too,” I said, and he frowned. We started to walk—he traded places with me so that I would be on the far side of the sidewalk away from the road.

“Moments of…?”

“Niceness and bitchiness,” I quipped.

That made him laugh. “Do you turn into a tiger when you’re mad?”

“A lioness, yes,” I said, and he shook his head, smiling amusedly.

“How young are you?”

His question shocked me. How would you go from tigers and lions and bitchiness to age? “Twenty-two,” I said when I had recovered. “You?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Ah. Not looking to settle down or you’re one of those who believe in marrying late?”

Jeff looked at me, as if he was weighing his options if he wanted to answer my question or not. And then he said, “Yes.”

“Yes to which part of my question?”

“To both actually,” he said. He licked his lips as he tried to enunciate his thoughts. “I am not looking to settle down, and in the event that I find that woman—which I sort of doubt—I might just marry late,” he said.

“Spoken like a person who is burned by love,” I said, giving him a mock applause. “One too many times?” I guessed, and he shook his head. “Just once,” he admitted, and I stopped. I looked at him, his eyes filled with sadness, and knew I had probably gone too far in being tact.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and he reached for my hand. I didn’t pull away because I liked the feeling that the warmth of his hand was offering. Besides, I am a very physical person, so touching is okay with me.

“I promise to tell you when I am not planning to have a good night or I am having a bad day. But since it’s my birthday tomorrow and we’re going to celebrate it tonight, can we skip the heartbreak part?” Jeff said, and his eyes morphed, being bright all of a sudden. I swear, his eyes are like those mood rings that show me his mood at any given point in a conversation.

“Sure we can,” I said cheerfully, and we stopped in front an open-air restaurant that probably serves inihaw food, for I can smell the grilled pork and squid in the air. A waiter assisted us into a table at the veranda, a few feet away from the grill, and I felt the cool night breeze play with my hair as we stepped out. Jeff pulled me a chair and waited for me to be settled before taking up the seat across me.

“We skipped the getting-to-know-you part,” Jeff began after we finished ordering. He skipped the beer because he said he was driving, and we are sharing a pitcher of iced tea instead. I nodded. “Where do you want to start?” I asked.

Jeff looked at me, his eyes intense. “Your name. What’s the story?”

“Raya Samantha,” I replied. “Raya is Israeli for ‘friend.’ I don’t know where my mom got it; she just said it sounded nice. Samantha’s derived from my dad’s name. He’s a Sam, too.” The waiter arrived with our drinks, and poured us the drinks. “You?” I asked as soon as he left.

“Patrick Jeffrey. My mom wasn’t creative enough to get a unique name like yours,” he teased, and I smiled. “It’s not the name that makes the person unique—it’s the bearer,” I told him, and he nodded. “Quotable,” he noted.

“What do you do for a living?” I asked him, although I know he is working at a graphic design company based on the company list at the lobby. That’s as far as I have gotten in terms of researching him online—his company.

“I am a project manager for Moire Design Solutions.”

“That’s just the position. What do you do for a living?”

Jeff ahh-ed. “I manage the accounts that our company has. We do ad campaigns, websites, logo designs, packaging, exhibits, newsletters, radio productions and jingles—everything.”

“Ah. You’re the artistic one.”

Jeff nodded. “I can draw you in charcoal, if you like.”

“Like in Titanic?” I asked haplessly.

“Which necklace would you wear?” he asked back, a playful smile on his face.

I blushed. “I don’t have a necklace.”

“Ooh,” he said, teasing, and I laughed. “Shush, moving on,” I said, waving my hand to get on with the topic. “What do you do?” Jeff asked, not wanting to push it.

“I am a market researcher.”

“Give me the non-nosebleed type of explanation as to what you do,” he said, and our appetizers had arrived. I started to sip the soup—which was basically some bulalo soup minus the bulalo—and then I exhaled loudly. How would you explain something so complicated to someone who is not in the industry?

“Well, we do studies on, for example, which brands are making it big in the market and which brands do not. We also study if a concept for a new product or a reformulation of an existing product is bankable or not, as well as if what the consumers like and do not like about the products. We also do studies on attitudes and behaviors of consumers.” I stopped when it appeared that Jeff wasn’t absorbing anything that I was saying. Well, he was, but I think it was all too technical for him.

“I am interested, really,” Jeff said when I stopped.

“But?”

“I think as I get to know you better, I’d get to have a real understanding of what you do? It’s not everyday that you actually meet a person who works for a market research company, you know, and I have to get a grasp of whatever your work is still,” Jeff explained, and I somehow got stuck in the part where he wanted to get to know me better in the near future.

Our orders arrived, and we started to eat, chatting in between bites about trivial things and general knowledge quirks. We even talked about the weather for a good measure, and I found out that he had volunteered in one of those drives that aimed to help the victims of Typhoon Ondoy and Pepeng.

He’s a kind soul, and I liked that.

Jeff found out about what I do on the sides—I write stories for a hobby, and he said he wanted to read some of them since he’s one of the few people I know who still read books and short stories. “You dream of getting published someday, huh?” he asked, and I nodded. “I think everyone who writes dreams of having their work published.”

“You’d get that. Someday,” he said, and I just smiled. The music was turned up in the venue to make the mood festive, as more and more people arrived for dinner. We fell silent as the music drowned out our words, and we ate heartily as our orders continued to arrive. When I was nearly full, Jeff and I looked up at each other almost at the same time.

“We have to walk this one out,” I said, and he nodded. “Yeah. I am so full I feel I’m going to burst,” he agreed. He burped out loud and we ended up laughing. He reached out across the table and held my hand.

“Spend the night with me?” Jeff asked out of the blue. “Not in that kind of way. I sort of don’t want to be alone tonight,” he added as an afterthought. Blood rushed to his cheeks, and he looked cute when he’s a bit embarrassed.

I stopped. I know he wasn’t looking for some one-night-stand, and I thought about it some more. Spend the night with someone I just officially knew today?

I squeezed his hand in mine, and then said, “Sure.”

He gave me the sweetest smile ever, and my heart just melted.

I hope I made the right decision.

–

Find out what Raya and Jeff did in their night here.

Days to Thirty-Five: Two, Three, Twenty-Seven

Day Two & Three-Fourths to Day Three: Someone to Rely On

“I smell of smoke,” I said as we entered his unit. “I smell of grilled pork, grilled squid… I smell grilled.”

I was almost blinded by the light that Jeff had turned on, and I had to wait before my eyes had adjusted to fully appreciate the place. It was a bachelor’s pad—I watched as Jeff went around, gathering the shirts he had left over one of his couches—complete with a flat-screen TV, a PS3, and a DVD player. I can bet my salary that his ref contains booze.

Jeff laughed. “We both do. We sat near the grill, remember?” he said, smelling his clothes as well. He cringed his nose, and then he looked at me, letting out a whistle. “Yeah, not nice,” he agreed, and then he told me to stay where I was. I watched him as he disappeared into one of the two rooms. I scanned the place while he was gone. There was a kitchen painted in sky blue with royal blue trimmings, equipped with a coffeemaker, a microwave, a ref, an oven over a stove, and a blender. The living room where I was is also in blue—navy blue this time. It had a modern feel to it, everything either blue or silver, the center table made of steel and the couches in navy blue. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that Jeff’s favorite color is blue.

When he came back he was bringing a couple of shirts and shorts. “You game to wear this? If you’re staying over, I’m thinking you’d want to be comfy,” Jeff said, tossing me an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts—men shorts. I rolled my eyes. “I appreciate it that you cared enough to make me wear the shirt. But the shorts?” I said, holding up the shorts that he gave me. Without even trying it, I knew it would fall off because it was so big on my waistline.

“Uh, wait,” he said, and he went into the room again. I followed him this time, and I saw that he was pulling the bottom drawer of his cabinet and was rummaging through the stuff there. He threw some stuff onto the bed, and I walked in to check what he threw there. I found a used toothbrush and a new one, a couple of shirts, and a deck of cards with the words Ice Breaker on the pack. That one gave me an idea.

I pocketed the Ice Breaker cards in my slacks. “Here,” Jeff said, and he held up his prized find: a short shorts—with a waistline at least at or around my size. Why does he have a pair of women’s shorts?

Maybe I should find it comforting that it is at the bottom of his drawer, with some of the stuff that he obviously does not use anymore or haven’t used yet.

But still.

“You can change in the bath,” he said, pointing to the door directly in front of me. I nodded, psyching myself that I should not think about it—or anything else—for, like Jeff, I wanted to enjoy this night. That doesn’t necessarily mean something significant or intimate would have to happen, but I am going to enjoy the night as it is.

And oh, the bathroom is still in blue.

After I finished changing into the clothes that Jeff gave me (it was a given that the shirt will cover the shorts because of its huge size, but I hadn’t thought that the shorts would be that short—it only reached up until where my panties had ended), I decided to do a mini pantry check.

Nope, no makeup on the sink and nope, no girly smelling shampoo in the shower area. No sanitary napkins or tampons stuck anywhere in his bathroom cabinets, and no birth control pills hiding in the medicine cabinet.

Apparently, whoever owns the shorts that I am wearing hasn’t been to this unit in the past month or so—or Jeff had taken pains to clear the house of things that reminded him of that person.

I retrieved the pack of Ice Breaker cards from my slacks, folded my clothes, and breathed deeply three times. If I am to put up a show that this is going to be a good night and I will enjoy it, I’d have to psych myself of blocking whoever owns the shorts I am wearing out of my mind.

I found Jeff seated at the edge of his bed when I emerged from the bathroom. He looked so laidback in his shirt and shorts, and when he beamed at me, my heart almost melted. He had brought my bag inside the room and laid it on one of the chairs next to the bed, and I placed my clothes there. “So,” I began when I faced him, “what are you planning to do?”

Jeff looked up at me and thought for a while. “Can we just talk?” he said, and I nodded. “Yeah, I can do talk,” I said, and I tossed him the Ice Breaker cards. “This should help us in talking,” I said, and he smiled. “I thought about this when I saw it awhile back,” he said.

“You used it before?”

A pregnant pause. He remembered someone. “Uh-huh.”

“Is it okay to use it now?”

He nodded slowly. “Sure.” He patted the space next to him on the bed and I Indian-sat on the bed, and he did the same. I grabbed one of the pillows to cover whatever the shorts and the shirt couldn’t. He took out the cards from the box and shuffled them, and then laid them in a nice deck between us. “Who goes first?” he asked, and I shrugged, picking up the card at the top of the deck.

“Wow, heavy,” I said upon reading the question on the card. He leaned over to peek at the card but I closed my hand over it so he couldn’t see it. “What is the greatest crime one person can commit against another? Why?” I said, my voice sounding a bit hollow. This question hits the nail on the head.

Jeff looked at me, his eyes filled with a myriad of emotions, awaiting patiently for my answer. “I guess cheating?” I said, and he nodded for me to continue. “Lying or cheating or betrayal,” I clarified. “Nothing beats the feeling of being betrayed. Everything you’ve ever believed in turns out to be something that’s not true, and that just feels so bad. You’d feel lost and confused and angry and hurt all at same time.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Twenty times betrayed? Definitely.”

“That’s too many a number.”

I sighed, smiling bitterly. “I only learned after the twentieth guy betrayed me. Barely trusted anyone after.”

“Why are you doing this now?”

I frowned. “Doing what?”

Jeff clasped his hands together, as if thinking of a proper way to phrase his question. “You’re telling me something. You’re telling me and showing me yourself. You’re trusting me—at least in a way. Why?”

I opened my mouth to reply, only to find myself searching for the answer. I ended up with: “That’s not in the card.” He smiled, and then reached out to hold my hand. He gave my hand a light squeeze before saying, “Answer it. Please.”

His eyes did the trick.

“Because I’m tired of keeping things to myself. I’m tired of knowing things about myself on my own. Eight years of that kind of life sucks, you know? You’d explode somehow,” I said truthfully.

“And I appreciate it,” Jeff said, and I frowned. “I appreciate you trusting me with yourself—at least parts of it,” he clarified. He smiled, and then released my hand to pick a card. He took the one on the top of the deck like I did, and then laughed when he read the question. “What?” I asked him, and he passed me the card. “Do you consider yourself…” My voice trailed when I realized what the continuation was, blushing.

He took the card from me and read it. “Do you consider yourself a good lover? How?”

I gathered myself, trying to contain my smile, and looked up at him, waiting for his answer. This should be fun. “I think I am—both in the physical and emotional sense,” he said after clearing his throat. Like me, he was blushing. “I love with all that I could possibly give, and I am fairly supportive in my partner’s endeavors. I care for those people my partner cares for, and I am not usually demanding. As a ‘lover’—” he made quotation marks with his hands at this point—“I think that one should be judged by performance, and I daresay have been up to par.”

I opened my mouth in awe, as Jeff gave me a mischievous smile and a wink. “Ah,” was all I managed. In place of the words I couldn’t say, I picked another card from the stack. “What do you feel when you stand on the shore of the ocean?” I read. “Peaceful? I haven’t been to the beach lately, but I feel that. Like if you have a lot of problems, you’d forget them just by staring at the ocean. It’s calm,” I answered, and Jeff accepted my answer.

“What is the most expensive thing you have bought?” Jeff said as he read off the card he had picked. He rolled his eyes, tossing the card into the “done” pile. “That’s easy. A ring. An engagement ring.”

“You were engaged?” I asked, shocked, and he gave me a pointed look.

“Not in the card,” he said coldly.

“Unfair,” I defended.

He shook his head vehemently and handed me the next card on the pile. “I still want to have that good night that you promised,” he said. I pouted, mad that he didn’t want to answer my question. I grabbed the card, and then read, “What is your greatest fear?” Without missing a beat, I said, “That would be death and rejection.”

“Fair enough,” Jeff said, and he read the next question, “If you have one super power, what would it be?”

“X-ray vision,” he said with a smart smile, and I rolled my eyes. “So you can check out women?” I retorted, and he laughed. “Just kidding. It’s mind-reading,” Jeff said.

I laughed bitterly at the next question. “When do you feel most lonely?” I read, and then threw it aside. “Who in the world makes these questions?” I asked him, and he replied, “I’d answer it too if that would make you feel better.”

Nice bargain. “Okay,” I reconsidered, and then added, “When I feel like everything is just falling apart and nothing seems right. It’s those kinds of times when I feel like I need someone who would hold me together.”

“I feel most lonely at night,” Jeff answered, and I let out a “hmph.” “No, no,” he said, shaking his head, “I didn’t mean in that kind of way!” I laughed, and he pulled me closer to him. I was seated next to him now. “I meant I feel most lonely at night because it’s the time when I am alone. I have a two-bedroom unit with no one to share it with. I spend most of the time thinking. And even if I have my own friends and I go out to gimmicks from time to time, that doesn’t fill in the loneliness.”

“Good that you clarified.”

I laid down on the bed and stretched, and he grabbed the cards before following my suit. “What movie character can you most identify with?” he said, and I turned to look at him. He was deep in thought, trying to discern the right movie character. “Tom Hansen, from (500) Days of Summer,” he said after a long while. I raised my eyebrow in question. “The story of that is Tom was left by Summer, right?” I asked. “I remember she left him because she found a guy who gave her what she wasn’t sure of in Tom.”

Jeff smiled sadly. “Story of my life,” he said, and I groaned. “Should I move on to the next question or you’re going to explain that?” I asked, and he shrugged. He turned to so that he was facing me. He placed down the cards on the tiny space left between his body and mine, and then exhaled loudly. “I was with someone for six years. Everything revolved around her. I asked her to marry me last year. Midway through the wedding plans and the gowns and the flowers, she called off the wedding. Said she has found the right man and it wasn’t me.”

I didn’t offer words of comfort or advice. I didn’t even ask how long ago it has happened, or if he had moved on or if it’s the reason why he’s always lonely and thinking. I just picked up another card from the stack and placed it between us. “You read it for me,” I said, and he nodded. He understood I didn’t want to pry, and I almost thanked him for that. I didn’t want to know because I know it might hurt—for him and for me.

“Ah,” he said. “Raya, do you often fall in love?”

“I am not so sure. What if I wasn’t given the opportunities to fall in love?” I asked back. He raised an eyebrow almost to tell me to just answer the question. “I don’t think so. I have truly fallen in love only once or twice, I guess,” I replied, and I handed him the next card.

“Would you rather meet the love of your life, knowing she will die within a year, or go on without meeting her? Explain,” Jeff read, and his face was unreadable. He stared at me for a long time (so long that I was already feeling conscious), and then said, “I’d rather meet the love of my life, because I still have that one year to make the most out of it. At least I get to experience what it’s like to love her and to be loved by her. I get to spend moments and treasure memories with her.”

He finished his statement with a yawn. “Sleepy?” I asked him, and he moved his body in a way that I wasn’t so sure if it was a shrug or a nod. I glanced at the clock at his bedside, and the red numbers of his digital clock flashing me 12:01.

“Oh goody. Happy birthday!” I greeted, and Jeff looked over my shoulder and saw the clock. “Oh, yeah. I’m officially twenty-seven,” he said, and I placed my hand on his arm, giving it a slight squeeze. “You’ll find her. That’s my wish for you. There’ll be no more lonely nights once you find her,” I whispered, and he smiled at me warmly. He held my hand that was on his arm, and just looked into my eyes.

“Thanks, Raya. I had fun today. I really did,” he said softly. I was about to reply when his cell phone beeped, and I am guessing that these are his early greeters. He groaned and then turned to look at his phone, while I gathered the cards and placed them back into the box. I placed the box on Jeff’s bedside and turned to that side to get ready to sleep.

I spent the first minutes of Jeff’s birthday, staring at the moon and the stars in the sky outside Jeff’s window. I was hearing him punching the keys of his cell phone still, and I yawned two more times before I heard him speak.

“Can I ask you for something?” he said. “I know it’s too much—especially since I’ve asked you to have dinner with me and to spend the rest of the night with me—but can I hold you?”

I laughed, turning to face him. “You’ve been holding my hand for parts of the night. I didn’t have any qualms, did I?” I asked back, and he nodded.

“I meant hold. As in real tight hold. Not just your hand.”

I stopped and absorbed what he was asking. “Oh.”

Jeff looked reluctant, on the verge accepting that I would not want to heed his request. I opened my arms and moved closer to him. “I need a hug anyway,” I told him, and he thanked me. He enclosed me in his arms, the warmth of his body immediately transferring to mine, and I cuddled closer. I could still detect a faint smell of smoke on his skin along with his musky scent, and I closed my eyes.

“Happy birthday,” I said again through his skin, my voice muffled.

“Thanks. Goodnight, Raya.”

“Goodnight, Jeff.”

I felt him kiss me on the forehead, and I knew I couldn’t ask for more from this day.

 

I opened my eyes and was surprised to find out that it was still a bit dark. I was greeted by the blinking red numbers of the digital clock by Jeff’s bedside, and it read 4AM. It seemed just a few hours ago Jeff and I were talking like there was no tomorrow. I wonder who had fallen asleep first. I remembered the moment of silence that befell us after our goodnights, but I didn’t know who succumbed to fatigue first.

I tried to turn but couldn’t, for Jeff’s arm was around my waist and he was holding me tight against his body. I twisted and squirmed until I was able to face him.

I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him. He was breathing slowly, his chest rising up and down with each deep breath. I wanted to touch his face but was afraid to wake him up so I didn’t. My eyes traveled from his tousled hair down to his eyes which I just noticed now that has long lashes, and further down to his pointed nose and then stopping at his thin, pink lips. The dimple on his left cheek was also there, and I wished he would smile more often so that I could spot this every single time.

I sighed—more of content than disappointment. I am happy, that even just for a day or two, I had this moment with him.

Just wished it could be a moment I’d see for a lifetime.

And by then I should have just treasured this moment, for what I am about to hear isn’t for the fainthearted.

Kidding.

“Char,” I heard Jeff mumble, and I stopped. Charlene or Charlotte? One thing I am so sure of is that Char is a lady. His ex-fiancée perhaps? “Char,” he said again.

Every single shred of enthusiasm has gone out of my body.

I shifted positions and stared at the ceiling instead before darkness consumed me again.

 

Someone is pinching my nose.

That is my first thought when I woke up.

I opened my eyes and saw Jeff’s face—smiling face. He was also the one who was pinching my nose. I rolled my eyes. “This is a very weird wakeup call,” I said, and he laughed, his breath fanning my face.

“Good morning,” he said brightly, and I smiled at him. “Happy birthday, Jeff,” I said, and he nodded. He leaned closer and I wondered if he would kiss me, and he did—on the nose. I stopped myself from sighing. Should I bury the Char thing that I had heard this morning and continue this charade or keep it in my head and not enjoy this moment?

His arms were still around me, our legs entangled beneath the sheets. “You slept well?” Jeff asked in a whisper.

I mumbled some semblance of a yes under my breath. It was a good sleep, discounting the fact that I heard him say “Char” in the middle of the night. “You?”

“Yeah. Surprisingly, I did,” he said, and I frowned. Aw. He didn’t sleep well because I was here?

“No, I didn’t mean that to be offensive,” he added quickly when he saw the pain on my face. “I meant, I have been sleeping like crap the past few days. Today’s different. I slept amazingly well.”

“Ah,” was all I managed to say, and I looked away before my face could betray me again. Sleeping like crap because he’s dreaming of an ex. Uh-huh. I slid out of his arms and legs and stood up. I stretched my arms way up in the air, and it was only when I saw Jeff swallowing a large lump in his throat had I realized that it was some sort of a mistake. His shirt that I was wearing had hiked up, revealing the short shorts and my long pair of legs.

I put down my arms and pulled the shirt down, and Jeff blushed in embarrassment for he knew I saw him staring. These are the moments when staring is okay, because it is somehow flattering. “Uh,” was the only sound that came out of his mouth, and I couldn’t say anything either. And then my phone blasted the tune “Don’t Trust Me” by 3OH!3, signaling to me that it was already 6:45 in the morning. It was my daily alarm reminding me that I have a real life.

“You have work,” Jeff said, making it sound like it was the most disappointing and absurd thing in the world. I nodded. “I am not the one who is celebrating the birthday today, so I don’t have any birthday leaves for today,” I replied. He moved closer to me as I stood at the edge of the bed. I grabbed my ponytail that I had removed last night, and placed my hair in a quick bun. Jeff watched me, a weird look on his face.

“What?” I asked.

Jeff sat up, reached out and held both my hands. “I realized something,” he said, his voice raspy. “Uh-huh?” I said, waiting for the continuation of his statement. He moved so that he was kneeling on the bed, and then he pulled me close by tugging at my shirt.

“I realized that I hadn’t kissed you, and that I had wanted to ever since last night,” he continued in that raspy voice, and before I knew it, his lips were on mine, soft and sweet. I couldn’t move because of the surprise, and when I recovered, I started to respond.

One of his hands slid to my waist to pull me closer to him, while the other cupped my face to deepen the kiss. He playfully bit on my lower lip to urge me to open my mouth, and when I did, his tongue drove in. I held onto him this time, the kiss making me weak.

Midway between being breathless and enjoying the kiss, I think I heard someone moan.

And then Jeff released me. I was so sure I was blushing furiously, and I looked away so that he wouldn’t see.

My first real kiss.

And it was with a guy who isn’t even my boyfriend.

Jeff stared at me for a long time (I realized later on that it’s some sort of a hobby of his to stare) and I stared back into his eyes, again swirls of mixed emotions. I was about to turn away when his face lowered again down to mine. I welcomed his kiss, and he slowly guided me so that I was already lying on the bed as we flat out made out. I think I am doing fairly okay in my first ever makeout session, don’t you think?

I felt him and his body weighing down on me, and it was at that moment Jeff stopped the kiss. “What do you want to eat for breakfast?” he asked me, and I smiled. He moved so that he and I were on the bed side by side, so that I won’t be burdened by his weight. His face was still a few centimeters away, our lips barely touching.

“I can cook for you if you like,” I said, and he grinned.

“Really?”

I exhaled, my breath going into his open lips. “Why not?” I asked, and he claimed my lips in the shortest kiss he ever gave me and then said, “Okay. You will cook for me. You might want to call in sick—or late—in your office.”

I shrugged. “No need,” I said, and he helped me stand up. He walked with me to the kitchen, my hand in his, and showed me his fully-stocked refrigerator. True enough, there was booze in the fridge. “Surprise me with what you can cook,” he said, and he dipped his head again, kissing me lightly, before turning to head back to his room.

Hmm, good thing I had training from my mom and cousin, who are both fairly respectable cooks. I took out eggs, ham, bell peppers, onion, and some leftover chicken, and decided to do an omelet.

 

Day Twenty-Seven: Full Speed Ahead

I watched the other cars on the road as Jeff and I headed to the meeting place. It was the early morning traffic that Jeff and I had wanted to avoid, but obviously failed because Jeff had woken up fifteen minutes late.

I sighed.

Why had I agreed to this?

Oh yeah.

Because Jeff said it was important to him. And since he is some sort of important to me (okay, he is important to me), this is something I knew I had to do sooner or later.

In the past twenty-four days of my life, Jeff was there, involved in seemingly everything. He picks me up to and from work—although I have to be a few minutes late because his work starts at 9AM, while mine starts at 8:30AM, and I have to stay until 6PM because that’s the time when he gets off—and in the event that I do overtime, he comes back to pick me up, or hangs around and waits for me (which is actually saying a lot, since when I do overtime, I mean it. I get out at 10PM or something). We would never have lunch together, for he rationalized that we already do dinners together and we still have to be mindful of our lives before he and I officially gone out (which I agree to, for I wouldn’t want to get tired of Jeff that easily). We watch movies at least twice a week and go bowling and ice skating, and he dared me to do wall climbing at one point (and I survived, albeit my slight fear of heights).

There’d be roses on some days, chocolates on others. I tried to do respectable drawings for him (for I swear, all I could do is stick figures), but make up for my lack of artistic prowess by writing him cutesy love notes. We finally had that chance to set up that charcoal drawing session he promised me (we did it, though, with my clothes on—unlike in Titanic). I was wearing, in the charcoal and even now, the necklace he had surprised me with—a simple silver necklace with my name in elegant calligraphy as the pendant.

And even though my officemates—knowing of his situation with the ex he had dreamed of—warned me that I might just be Little Miss Rebound, I still went for Jeff, knowing and feeling that he is worth it.

“Ry,” I heard Jeff say, interrupting my thoughts. He reached out and rubbed the back of my neck, and I sighed. “Come on, don’t be nervous. They’re nice people, and they’ll like you,” he said, and I forced a smile.

“Yeah,” I said, and he fell silent.

Don’t get me wrong—I want to do this, but I just think it’s too early in whatever Jeff and I have to do this.

And here we are.

Jeff held my hand as we walked towards his friends who are huddled around a white AUV, cheering and laughing. Jeff had borrowed an AUV from his dad, and that will serve as the second car for the trip. I pulled back on him.

“We’re here. They’ll like you,” he whispered, and he kissed me on the forehead before pulling me towards the group again. His barkada, whose name I couldn’t recall as of now, looked at us as we approached.

“Jeff!” they greeted in chorus, and he released my hand to greet his friends. I counted six of his friends, four males and two females, and watched them as they gave Jeff their versions of man hugs and pecks on the cheeks.

And then Jeff turned to me.

He held out his hand and I took it. He smiled, and I knew he felt the coldness of my palms. Hey, don’t blame me. This is the first time I am meeting the barkada of someone I am going out with, much more spend four days with them in a beach resort in Bolinao. Not your everyday circumstances.

“Guys, this is Raya,” Jeff said, and I waved at them. “Raya, these guys have been my barkada for the past decade of my life.” He pointed to a petite, chinita girl that I would bet half my salary has a lot of suitors. “That is Jade,” he said, and Jade stepped towards me and hugged me warmly. “This is James,” Jeff continued, and the guy with a burly built, shoulder-length hair and a look that I could classify as emo stepped forward, offering his hand. I shook his hand, and saw up close that he has a piercing on his upper lip.

“Dennis,” said the man who looked almost saintly and obviously the opposite of James. He has an angelic face, and he looked a bit handsome. He has a lot of sex appeal too. Maybe if I wasn’t with Jeff, I’d be interested in this Dennis guy. We shook hands momentarily, before the tall lady in a summer dress smiled at me. She has the longest, silkiest black hair I’ve ever seen. “I’m Sandra,” she said, and she hugged me tightly too.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, smiling at her warmly.

“Hey Raya,” said a voice, and when I turned, the first thought in my head was that I was seeing double. A pair of identical twins is standing in front of me. Both are tall, with clean cut hair and deep set eyes. The difference lies on the dimples. One of them has it on the right, the other doesn’t. And as they moved closer to me, I saw that one of them has a mole near his left eye, and the other doesn’t.

“I’m Carlo,” said the one with the mole, and he shook my hand. He gave me a smile, which I returned. The other half of the set of twins offered his hand and gave me a smug smile. Aside from having the dimple on the right cheek, this one is more arrogant than Carlo. “I’m Jonathan,” he said, and I nodded.

When that was done, I turned to Jeff and exhaled a sigh of relief. He pulled me into a half-hug, whispered, “I told you it’ll be a breeze,” and kissed me on the hair.

“What about us? Aren’t you going to introduce us to her?”

I saw the ghastly look on Jeff’s face before I turned. I should have sensed it, but how could I have known?

“Hi,” greeted a lady in a long white dress, with wavy hair and round, dark brown eyes. She is simply pretty, and she becomes more beautiful when she smiles, for her smile is captivating.

And she is sporting a nice baby bump.

“I’m Charlene.”

The breath caught in my throat. Charlene as in the “Char” that Jeff was calling out in his dream before? I recovered and smiled at her. “Hi Charlene,” I greeted back, and I welcomed the hug that she was offering. She then turned to the man standing next to her. He is taller than she is by a few inches, but carries himself well because he exudes confidence. He also has that same captivating smile that Charlene has.

He is handsome, in the Joseph Gordon-Levitt kind of way.

“This is my husband, Mark,” Charlene said, and I shook his hand. And then Charlene turned to Jeff, giving him a warm smile. “Hi Jeff,” she said, and I felt the muscles in Jeff’s body tighten. “Hey Charlene. Hi Mark,” he said, his voice hard. I think the others felt the tension in the air, for Jonathan interjected with, “I am riding with Jeff. I missed this guy.”

The rest chimed in by choosing which car they’d ride in, and I was almost thankful that Charlene and Mark would be riding with Dennis. When everybody turned to get their things, I looked at Jeff, touching his face, turned hard by seeing Charlene.

“Hey,” I whispered, and he looked down on me. I gave him a small smile, and he relaxed. He leaned his forehead against mine, and then said, “I am thankful that you’re here.”

I fell silent, for I felt that there was a hanging continuation to his sentence. He pulled me back to his car as Jonathan, Jade, and James were loading their things. I exhaled loudly, a feeling that this is not good creeping into me.

It seemed to me that the barkada has been here before, for they have a resthouse rented already. Five rooms, and news has it that we’re splitting into pairs. The logical partner for me was Jeff, even though I had wanted to get away from him at this very moment. He had chosen the room with the best view of the ocean, and nobody had complained about his room choice.

I was standing by the window when I heard him arrive with our bags, and he closed the door behind him. “We’re leaving for a late lunch in an hour, and then maybe swim for a while,” he told me, and I mumbled an “okay,” not bothering to face him. I felt him shuffling around, and then he was beside me.

Jeff placed his arms around me. “You alright?” he asked, and I sighed.

“Who is she?”

“Who?”

I faced him. “Charlene.”

Jeff heaved a sigh and looked away, his eyes on the ocean. His face turned stony, and I thought for a moment he isn’t going to answer me. “She was my ex-girlfriend. My ex-fiancée,” he said, his voice hollow.

“The lone heartbreak,” I quipped, and he nodded.

“Why did you bring me here? Did you know they’d be here?” I asked quietly, and Jeff quickly looked at me, his eyes sharp and fiery. “I am not using you to get back at her, okay? I just want to enjoy this weekend with you and with my friends who I also miss. I didn’t know they’d be coming, for they never did come to outings like this ever since they got married,” he said, anger marking his voice.

“Okay,” I said, and I looked away. Jeff twisted me in his arms to face him. “Charlene was the love of my life. She was my destruction as well. When she broke up with me and left me, I thought I’d never start all over again. I am just shocked that she’s here, with Mark. It’s the first time I have ever seen her ever since we broke up a year ago. But I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, Raya, and I am doing it with you. I would never use you just to get over her or to hurt her. I am past that stage, Raya,” he said, and I closed my eyes and shook my head.

“Let’s just enjoy this weekend,” was all I managed to say after a long while, finally opening my eyes, and he hugged me.

“I promise you that we will,” Jeff whispered, and he lifted my head and kissed me lightly.

Somebody tell me if what I’m doing is right?

–

Find out what Raya did by clicking here.

<!–[if !mso]> <! st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } –>

I watched the other cars on the road as Jeff and I headed to the meeting place. It was the early morning traffic that Jeff and I had wanted to avoid, but obviously failed because Jeff had woken up fifteen minutes late.

I sighed.

Why had I agreed to this?

Oh yeah.

Because Jeff said it was important to him. And since he is some sort of important to me (okay, he is important to me), this is something I knew I had to do sooner or later.

In the past twenty-four days of my life, Jeff was there, involved in seemingly everything. He picks me up to and from work—although I have to be a few minutes late because his work starts at 9AM, while mine starts at 8:30AM, and I have to stay until 6PM because that’s the time when he gets off—and in the event that I do overtime, he comes back to pick me up, or hangs around and waits for me (which is actually saying a lot, since when I do overtime, I mean it. I get out at 10PM or something). We would never have lunch together, for he rationalized that we already do dinners together and we still have to be mindful of our lives before he and I officially gone out (which I agree to, for I wouldn’t want to get tired of Jeff that easily). We watch movies at least twice a week and go bowling and ice skating, and he dared me to do wall climbing at one point (and I survived, albeit my slight fear of heights).

There’d be roses on some days, chocolates on others. I tried to do respectable drawings for him (for I swear, all I could do is stick figures), but make up for my lack of artistic prowess by writing him cutesy love notes. We finally had that chance to set up that charcoal drawing session he promised me (we did it, though, with my clothes on—unlike in Titanic). I was wearing, in the charcoal and even now, the necklace he had surprised me with—a simple silver necklace with my name in elegant calligraphy as the pendant.

And even though my officemates—knowing of his situation with the ex he had dreamed of—warned me that I might just be Little Miss Rebound, I still went for Jeff, knowing and feeling that he is worth it.

“Ry,” I heard Jeff say, interrupting my thoughts. He reached out and rubbed the back of my neck, and I sighed. “Come on, don’t be nervous. They’re nice people, and they’ll like you,” he said, and I forced a smile.

“Yeah,” I said, and he fell silent.

Don’t get me wrong—I want to do this, but I just think it’s too early in whatever Jeff and I have to do this.

And here we are.

Jeff held my hand as we walked towards his friends who are huddled around a white AUV, cheering and laughing. Jeff had borrowed an AUV from his dad, and that will serve as the second car for the trip. I pulled back on him.

“We’re here. They’ll like you,” he whispered, and he kissed me on the forehead before pulling me towards the group again. His barkada, whose name I couldn’t recall as of now, looked at us as we approached.

“Jeff!” they greeted in chorus, and he released my hand to greet his friends. I counted six of his friends, four males and two females, and watched them as they gave Jeff their versions of man hugs and pecks on the cheeks.

And then Jeff turned to me.

He held out his hand and I took it. He smiled, and I knew he felt the coldness of my palms. Hey, don’t blame me. This is the first time I am meeting the barkada of someone I am going out with, much more spend four days with them in a beach resort in Bolinao. Not your everyday circumstances.

“Guys, this is Raya,” Jeff said, and I waved at them. “Raya, these guys have been my barkada for the past decade of my life.” He pointed to a petite, chinita girl that I would bet half my salary has a lot of suitors. “That is Jade,” he said, and Jade stepped towards me and hugged me warmly. “This is James,” Jeff continued, and the guy with a burly built, shoulder-length hair and a look that I could classify as emo stepped forward, offering his hand. I shook his hand, and saw up close that he has a piercing on his upper lip.

“Dennis,” said the man who looked almost saintly and obviously the opposite of James. He has an angelic face, and he looked a bit handsome. He has a lot of sex appeal too. Maybe if I wasn’t with Jeff, I’d be interested in this Dennis guy. We shook hands momentarily, before the tall lady in a summer dress smiled at me. She has the longest, silkiest black hair I’ve ever seen. “I’m Sandra,” she said, and she hugged me tightly too.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, smiling at her warmly.

“Hey Raya,” said a voice, and when I turned, the first thought in my head was that I was seeing double. A pair of identical twins is standing in front of me. Both are tall, with clean cut hair and deep set eyes. The difference lies on the dimples. One of them has it on the right, the other doesn’t. And as they moved closer to me, I saw that one of them has a mole near his left eye, and the other doesn’t.

“I’m Carlo,” said the one with the mole, and he shook my hand. He gave me a smile, which I returned. The other half of the set of twins offered his hand and gave me a smug smile. Aside from having the dimple on the right cheek, this one is more arrogant than Carlo. “I’m Jonathan,” he said, and I nodded.

When that was done, I turned to Jeff and exhaled a sigh of relief. He pulled me into a half-hug, whispered, “I told you it’ll be a breeze,” and kissed me on the hair.

“What about us? Aren’t you going to introduce us to her?”

I saw the ghastly look on Jeff’s face before I turned. I should have sensed it, but how could I have known?

“Hi,” greeted a lady in a long white dress, with wavy hair and round, dark brown eyes. She is simply pretty, and she becomes more beautiful when she smiles, for her smile is captivating.

And she is sporting a nice baby bump.

“I’m Charlene.”

The breath caught in my throat. Charlene as in the “Char” that Jeff was calling out in his dream before? I recovered and smiled at her. “Hi Charlene,” I greeted back, and I welcomed the hug that she was offering. She then turned to the man standing next to her. He is taller than she is by a few inches, but carries himself well because he exudes confidence. He also has that same captivating smile that Charlene has.

He is handsome, in the Joseph Gordon-Levitt kind of way.

“This is my husband, Mark,” Charlene said, and I shook his hand. And then Charlene turned to Jeff, giving him a warm smile. “Hi Jeff,” she said, and I felt the muscles in Jeff’s body tighten. “Hey Charlene. Hi Mark,” he said, his voice hard. I think the others felt the tension in the air, for Jonathan interjected with, “I am riding with Jeff. I missed this guy.”

The rest chimed in by choosing which car they’d ride in, and I was almost thankful that Charlene and Mark would be riding with Dennis. When everybody turned to get their things, I looked at Jeff, touching his face, turned hard by seeing Charlene.

“Hey,” I whispered, and he looked down on me. I gave him a small smile, and he relaxed. He leaned his forehead against mine, and then said, “I am thankful that you’re here.”

I fell silent, for I felt that there was a hanging continuation to his sentence. He pulled me back to his car as Jonathan, Jade, and James were loading their things. I exhaled loudly, a feeling that this is not good creeping into me.

It seemed to me that the barkada has been here before, for they have a resthouse rented already. Five rooms, and news has it that we’re splitting into pairs. The logical partner for me was Jeff, even though I had wanted to get away from him at this very moment. He had chosen the room with the best view of the ocean, and nobody had complained about his room choice.

I was standing by the window when I heard him arrive with our bags, and he closed the door behind him. “We’re leaving for a late lunch in an hour, and then maybe swim for a while,” he told me, and I mumbled an “okay,” not bothering to face him. I felt him shuffling around, and then he was beside me.

Jeff placed his arms around me. “You alright?” he asked, and I sighed.

“Who is she?”

“Who?”

I faced him. “Charlene.”

Jeff heaved a sigh and looked away, his eyes on the ocean. His face turned stony, and I thought for a moment he isn’t going to answer me. “She was my ex-girlfriend. My ex-fiancée,” he said, his voice hollow.

“The lone heartbreak,” I quipped, and he nodded.

“Why did you bring me here? Did you know they’d be here?” I asked quietly, and Jeff quickly looked at me, his eyes sharp and fiery. “I am not using you to get back at her, okay? I just want to enjoy this weekend with you and with my friends who I also miss. I didn’t know they’d be coming, for they never did come to outings like this ever since they got married,” he said, anger marking his voice.

“Okay,” I said, and I looked away. Jeff twisted me in his arms to face him. “Charlene was the love of my life. She was my destruction as well. When she broke up with me and left me, I thought I’d never start all over again. I am just shocked that she’s here, with Mark. It’s the first time I have ever seen her ever since we broke up a year ago. But I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, Raya, and I am doing it with you. I would never use you just to get over her or to hurt her. I am past that stage, Raya,” he said, and I closed my eyes and shook my head.

“Let’s just enjoy this weekend,” was all I managed to say after a long while, finally opening my eyes, and he hugged me.

“I promise you that we will,” Jeff whispered, and he lifted my head and kissed me lightly.

Somebody tell me if what I’m doing is right?

Days to Thirty-Five: Days Twenty-Eight to Twenty-Nine

I’m going away for a while

But I’ll be back, don’t try to follow me

Coz I’ll return as possible

See, I’m trying to find my place

But it might not be here where I feel safe

We all learn to make mistakes

And run

From them, from them

With no direction

We’ll run from them, from them

With no conviction

-Misguided Ghosts, Paramore

Day Twenty-Eight: I’m Going Away for a While

“How did you meet Jeff?”

I looked up from the green mangoes and bagoong and smiled at Sandra. “He’s the guy at the smoking area who doesn’t smoke. I see him almost everyday, and I was crushing on him big for the past year. I got the opportunity to meet him when I had an attack in the elevators, and he sort of saved me,” I explained.

“Attack?” asked Carlo, and I explained my condition. Jeff was listening intently—at least trying to, for I had caught him a few times, his eyes straying to Charlene’s direction. “And then you started to go out,” prompted Jade, and I nodded. “He’s a nice guy, and I’m glad I met him,” I replied, and Jeff smiled at me. He pulled me close and I leaned against him for a while before returning to my food.

“Are you good in singing?” asked Jonathan, and I shrugged. “I can carry a tune. Why?” I asked back, and he grinned. “We’re doing videokes tonight, so you better prepare your number. Jeff likes women who sing well,” he teased, and the rest of the table—with the exception of me and Jeff—laughed. Jeff just shook his head, shooting a glare towards Jonathan’s direction, and when I turned to Charlene, she was blushing.

“I am happy we’re finally complete,” Sandra said, and there was a murmur of agreement around the table. “And our family’s growing,” added Dennis, giving me and Mark small smiles. I returned his smile.

“And we’re welcoming the group’s first baby!” added Jade, clapping her hands in glee, and I sighed. I was feeling for Jeff’s reaction, and he was just smiling stupidly. They asked Charlene a myriad of questions about the baby and when she is giving birth. And then they talked about the last trip they had together, in Puerto Galera, which Charlene and Mark had missed. They were going down the route that I wasn’t familiar with, for they were talking about events that have happened before Jeff and I were together. I looked around the table and my eyes fell on Mark, who shrugged. He’s lost, too.

“Hey, hey, guys,” Jeff butted in, “We’ve got newbies here. Maybe y’all should be considerate of Raya and Mark here?”

I almost thanked him.

“Let’s go swim?” said Dennis, and everyone agreed. They paid for the food and we walked to the beach, and Jeff held my hand. “They like you,” he declared as we watched Jonathan, Carlo and Dennis race to get to the beach. Jonathan won, and Carlo and Dennis rewarded him by splashing him seawater. Gosh, these men are like kids.

“I like them too. They’re all nice people. I didn’t know Dennis was with you at Moire?” I asked, and he grinned. “He rarely goes out of the office, so I never got a chance to introduce him to you. The only time he’s probably less shy and goes out of his shell is when he’s with us,” Jeff explained, and I nodded. I removed the summer dress that I used to cover my bikini, and I saw the appraising look on Jeff’s face. He swallowed again as he stared at my entirety from head to foot.

“Can we skip swimming?” he teased, and I laughed, hitting him playfully on the arm. He removed his shirt and it was my turn to gape, for those washboard abs are hot. Those hours he spent in the gym are paying off, I tell you. He helped put sunblock on my back and I placed sunblock on his, and we ran to the beach, and Jeff got there before I did and splashed water on me. I glanced at the shore, and Charlene and Mark are walking slowly to follow us, taking their time. I smiled for they looked like a cute couple, and I saw the way Mark was looking at Charlene and knew how much he loves her.

Charlene stared back into Mark’s eyes, that same glistening thing going on, and I knew she feels the same.

The seawater hitting me on the face told me that I should get back to the matter at hand: enjoying Jeff.

He pulled me towards him and we sunk further down the beach, and when I emerged my hair was splayed all over my face, making Jeff laugh. As I fixed my hair—he amazingly has a ponytail in his pocket, for he knew I have moments when I just forget to bring one—into a pony, Jeff watched and he leaned over to kiss me.

I finished doing my pony and kissed him back and then released him.

“Block them out,” he whispered to me. I wasn’t sure whom he was referring to, but I blocked everyone out, and concentrated on cavorting in the waters with my dear Jeff.

It worked out well—at least for a couple of hours.

 

Jeff stared at her, the entire time she was singing.

Well, for one, I’ve got to give it to Charlene. She really has a very good singing voice—so good that I am almost embarrassed to actually go and sing after she did. But I don’t think that my guy (yes, I am calling Jeff that now) has every right to stare at his ex-fiancée when I am at his side.

Yes, I am jealous. And yes, that hurts too.

Jeff, however, after I finished belting out Heart’s Alone (I know, how apropos), told me that he’s proud of me. I thanked him, and that was before the lights had dimmed and the music was turned to slow. Dennis asked Jade to dance, Carlo asked Sandra, while Jonathan and James joked around and danced with each other. I was surprised by the next thing that happened next.

No, it wasn’t Jeff who asked me to dance.

It was Mark who did.

I looked up at him as he smiled at me warmly. “Can I have this dance?” he asked, offering his hand. I saw Jeff glaring at him, but he nodded begrudgingly. I reluctantly stood up and followed Mark to the makeshift dance floor inside the resthouse. He placed both his hands around my waist and I placed my arms around his neck, but I tried to keep my and his personal bubbles intact. We swayed slowly to the music—whoever thought of playing Careless Whispers should be hanged.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked him, my voice hard, and he shrugged. “For some reason, I want them to talk to each other. And the only way they’d do that is when we’re both not around—at least in some physical sense,” Mark explained, and I followed his line of sight. I saw Jeff walking over to Charlene, but he didn’t ask her to dance. Instead, he sat down next to her. Charlene gave him a warm smile, her eyes soft.

Jeff looked like he was about to devour her.

Kidding.

He looked at her like how he would have if they were still together up until now: eyes filled with pure, innocent, great love.

I nearly scowled. “You sure that’s a nice idea?” I asked Mark, not entirely believing that his plan is ever so flawless. He nodded. “Maybe you might think that this is not a good idea now, but you’ll see. It’s something that will help Jeff,” Mark said patiently, and I shook my head.

“I really can’t see that now, Mark.”

He gave me a thrifty smile. “After they broke up, Charlene hasn’t got a chance to talk to Jeff again. They were friends before they became lovers, Raya, and I knew that Charlene wanted them to remain that even if it looked impossible in the first place, especially after how much Jeff had hurt. But Charlene can’t move on either, especially if she knows how much burdened Jeff is after the breakup. And right now, both of them need to get this. They need to have their bullshit closure.”

I grinned at his term. “So you sincerely believe that after all this time, he still hasn’t gotten over her, even just a little?” I asked, and he twirled me around. “He has, a little, especially with you around. But you can’t heal a deep wound just by putting a band-aid over it, right? It won’t heal. You have to disinfect it with alcohol every once in a while. And then you have to remove the bandage at some point for it to fully heal. For the stitches to dry. For the wound to dry. And then all you have is a scar to remember the wound by.”

This time, I winced. “So I am the band-aid—bandage, whatever,” I said plainly, feeling the sting of Mark’s words a bit. I removed my hands around Mark and stepped away. “No, that was a bad analogy,” he said, and I shook my head. I turned and started to walk away, but Mark caught up with me. He grabbed me by the arm to make me stop. “I have been feeling all sorts of things before I got here, Mark. Thanks for making me feel better,” I said coldly, and I left him in the middle of the dance floor.

 

Doomed from the start. Everything about this—Jeff and I—is wrong, even back when we started. He didn’t want to go out with me at first because he knows deep inside he is still hung up with Charlene, but was forced to because the situation is already there. I should have gotten the picture and said no when he asked me to go out with him.

The minute I heard him mutter Charlene’s name in his sleep, I should have upped and walked away. But what did I do? Stayed and acted like nothing happened. Made out with him like there is no tomorrow. Acted like the girlfriend he hasn’t had in the past few months.

I lived my illusion, and now reality’s creeping up on me fast.

Jeff and I weren’t meant to take off—we’re just doomed from the start.

I watched as the grains of sand sieved through my hands. The moonlight and the calm beach were comforting, and the sea breeze played with my hair. I shivered in the cold, and to help ease it I buried my toes in the sand.

“Charlene told me before that when I talk, I don’t know how to control myself. I apologize—deeply—for whatever pain I might have caused.”

I looked up and saw Mark, his figure looming over me. I didn’t invite him to sit beside me, but he did. “Thanks,” I said, “for making me realize a lot of things.”

Mark let out a hollow laugh. “Jeff might accuse me of ruining his life the second time around.”

I shook my head. “No. It wasn’t your fault. I realized those things the minute I saw Jeff’s reaction when he saw Charlene. No worries.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked. I stayed silent, not wanting to say the words.

“You guys still not done with the bonding time?”

I looked up and saw Jeff, and he was carrying a bottle of beer. “Are you done with your own bonding time?” I asked back, and he smiled bitterly. “That wasn’t a bonding time. You two, however, look so comfy with each other,” he said, and I stood up and grabbed the beer bottle from him, handing it to Mark who would probably know how to dispose of it. “That’s the booze talking. Come on, we’re heading back to the room.”

“Stay away from Raya,” Jeff warned Mark before he allowed me to drag him back into the resthouse. I gave Mark an apologetic look before heaving Jeff’s arm over my shoulder, laboriously trudging him to our room.

 

“You like Mark?”

I rolled my eyes at him as I threw him onto the bed. I kicked the door to a close, wiping the sweat on my forehead because of the work I did in carrying him into the room. “No. And I don’t like you right now either,” I told him, and he laughed in a real drunk way. “Why? Because Mark’s better? Did you kiss him too?”

I had the urge to seriously slap him. “No, because you’re drunk, and you’re hopeless.”

I sat at the edge of the bed, weak, and watched him as he rolled on the bed towards me.

“I talked to Charlene. And she said she wants me to be happy. That she wants me to move on,” Jeff said, slurring some of his words, and I nodded, biting my lower lip to hold back my tears. “I heard that speech a year ago already. That doesn’t help, you know. What does she want me to do? If everything just leads back to her? If all the plans that I’ve made in my life was with her and all about her and all about us? If I am not whole because I am not with her?”

I hit him on the chest angrily and repeatedly. “She wants you to move on, Jeff! She wants you to make new plans with your own life because life doesn’t end when one person leaves! She wants you to make yourself whole! She wants you to stop being the pathetic git that you are now. She wants you to pick yourself up from this mess because nothing else and no one else is going to do that for you!”

Jeff stopped me from hitting him again and he held my hand to his chest, directly above his heart. It was only now that I noticed that he was crying. “This heart—my heart—can only take so much, Raya. And when I saw her again, I just felt like the million pieces I was holding together crumbled again.” I finally let my tears go as well, and he and I had a tear fest.

I pulled Jeff towards me and placed his head on my lap. He sobbed and cried for as long as I could remember, and when he stopped he was too tired to even function. He fell asleep, and I just shook my head, finally reaching a resolve.

I knew what I am going to do, and when I am going to do it.

 

Day Twenty-Nine: Run From Them

I seriously believe that even drunk people remember what happened when they were spaced out because of the booze.

Proof?

“I am sorry,” Jeff said the minute I opened my eyes. I could hear the birds chirping outside, and I knew it was paradise. I like this nature feel. The sun was peeking through the leaves of the trees strategically placed outside the window, and I could hear the ocean waves as they crash onto the shore.

“Uh-huh,” I said, wiping the sleep off my eyes. No point in denying anything—for I took just one look into Jeff’s eyes and I knew he remembered what happened. I wanted to skip this conversation and just eat breakfast.

He perched his head on his elbow and gazed into my eyes. “I was out of line last night. I really don’t remember what I actually said, but the gist of it is still in my head,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Forget it. I thought we were supposed to be enjoying this weekend? Whatever that was—”

“Whatever that was, we have to talk about it,” Jeff interjected.

I grimaced. “Do we talk about you telling Mark to stay away from me or the events after that?” I asked smugly. I sat up on the bed and combed my hair with my hands.

“Both.”

“Shoot,” I told him, and Jeff breathed deeply. “I am sorry about Mark. That was irrational and unreasonable,” he said, beginning whatever he and I had to talk about.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “And I am not Charlene. Nor do I go for married men.”

Jeff winced. “Regarding Charlene—”

“Ah. Charlene.”

He ran his hands through his face as if washing it underwater and rearranged his position so that he was seating across me. It was like our first night together—only we’re in Bolinao and we’re technically fighting.

“I love her—”

“Evidently.”

He glared at me. “I didn’t know one of your hobbies included cutting me off,” he said, his tone frustrated. I gave him a fake smile. “Well, it only comes out when I am mad at you, and you look so cute when you’re angry,” I said in a singsong voice. He sighed impatiently and said in an urgent tone, “I love her but I have to move on. I have to let her go.”

I was about to say a nasty retort when there came a series of knocks on the door. He held up a hand to silence me and went to get it.

Jonathan had a bright face on and said, “Breakfast?” I heard Jeff mumble a “sure,” and closed the door on his face, probably shocking Jonathan. I stood up and started to fix myself, taking a scrunchie to tidy up my messy hair.

“Raya—”

“I am hungry,” I said dismissively. I headed for the door and he stopped me by the arm. “I was supposed to give you this last night, before we had this grand hoopla,” Jeff said, and he opened the nearby drawer and retrieved a package. He handed it to me and I eyed him warily.

“You always give me gifts,” I said, and Jeff grinned. “You deserve to be showered by them,” he said, and I detected sincerity in his voice. I couldn’t avoid, though, rolling my eyes at the absurdity of the situation. Yeah, with all the heartaches? I thought.

I tore open the package and my jaw just dropped.

My novel.

Okay, make that plural. My novels—printed, published, complete with a cover that was split into two by a diagonal. Fall as the book one, and Solace as the second book in the volume.

Fall and Solace are now officially a book—at least not the type you see in the bookstore, but the type of book that you can flip through, hold, with a cover and my name written in front. I ran my hands through the white pages and looked up at him, tears glistening in my eyes.

“How did you—”

He smiled. “You published these online and I read through them. I got the soft copies of both stories from your laptop while you were asleep. I had a friend who has connections with a publishing company, and he made ten copies for me,” Jeff explained. “The other nine copies are in Manila. You can give them to your friends, or we can submit them legitimately to publishing houses.”

I hugged him. Real tight. “I am still mad at you,” I said after a long while, and Jeff nodded.

“I know.”

“But thank you.”

“We still have to talk later.”

“Yeah.”

Jeff kissed me on the forehead before opening the door for me. I placed the book on the bedside table and went out to him to have breakfast, my feelings even more conflicted.

 

“Hey. You lovebirds want to join us? Snorkeling and then spelunking.”

I felt Jeff looked at me for an answer as I sipped my buko juice and decided to ignore Jonathan. I didn’t even glance at Jeff, for that would merit that I would have to tell him whether or not I would want to go.

“Sure,” Jeff said, giving up that I wouldn’t tell him anything. Jonathan had concluded he need not ask me, so he told Jeff, “We’ll leave in thirty,” and then he left Jeff and me to talk to another pair of lovebirds, Charlene and Mark.

“Wanna come with us?” Jeff whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Snorkeling and spelunking’s fun,” he urged, and I shook my head. “Nah. I am not feeling well. You go ahead and bond with your friends. Have some male bonding,” I told him, giving him a small smile. His forehead creased when he heard I wasn’t feeling well, and he immediately felt for my temperature.

I reached up and removed his hands from my face. “I just feel a little light-headed, don’t worry. I’d just try and sleep this one off,” I said, and he looked at me for a long while, trying to ascertain if I was, indeed, telling the truth.

“Sure?” Jeff pressed again. I nodded.

“Yes, I am certain.”

Jeff leaned closer and placed his lips on mine very momentarily. “I’ll see you later?” he said, and I didn’t speak. He wouldn’t want to hear the answer to that one. He pressed his lips against mine, more demanding and passionately this time, but it ended real quickly. “I’ll be back,” Jeff said, and I sighed. I watched him walk away, a grim look on his face.

I sure hope he will enjoy his male bonding trip.

 

“Hey.”

I looked up from the clothes that I was packing and saw Charlene at the door. I waved her and her blue flowery dress in. “You didn’t come with the guys in the snorkeling and spelunking? Maybe they’d make an exception for you,” I asked, and she shook her head. “Mark didn’t want me to go with them. Said it’s safer for me and the baby,” she said, her hand touching her tummy. I smiled at her, and she sat down at the edge of the bed. Stupid me, why do I have to ask? I thought.

“Where are you going?” she asked. “We’re staying here for four days, remember? We’re just in the second day.”

I folded my bathing suit and stuffed it in the pocket of my backpack. “My data’s coming in tomorrow, so I’m working on a holiday.”

She shook her head. “You can do better than that,” she said, and I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you leaving, Raya? It’s not work. I have a very good feeling that that isn’t the reason.”

I sat down on the bed and zipped my backpack close. “I’m leaving because I can’t take it anymore,” I told her honestly.

“Can’t take what anymore?”

I sighed impatiently. “Charlene, you talked to Jeff last night. Does he look like someone who has moved on to you?” I snapped, and she shook her head. “I know you don’t love him anymore, but he loves you still. Very much. And I can’t take that. I am not going to stay to get my heart broken all over again.”

“You love Jeff,” Charlene said, almost amusedly.

I laughed sarcastically. “I do. Amazingly, I do. But he doesn’t want to be with me, Charlene. I am the second best option next to you. And since he can’t have you, he’s staying with me.”

Charlene sighed. “When I broke up with Jeff and cancelled the wedding, I had wanted him to move on just like I did. I wanted him to be happy. I even stayed away from the barkada so that he won’t see me. Mark and I weren’t supposed to be here in this vacation, but Jade and Sandra had pleaded for me not to miss another outing. I’ve tried to help him in moving on by not showing myself to him—”

“Apparently that didn’t help. Ever heard of the saying ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder?’” I cut in.

She stared at me. “You’ve made up your mind that you’re leaving him,” she concluded. I handed her the book that Jeff had given me earlier. I had stuck a post-it there explaining where I’ve gone. And if he’s smart enough, he’d find my real note written on the front flap. “Yeah. I have. Give this to him, will you?” I said, and she nodded.

“Is this the official version you told me a while ago, or a bullshit version to save him from more misery?” Charlene said, taking the note from me. I smiled. “The bullshit version, but I guess Jeff’s smart enough to read between the lines. Maybe he and I can talk when in Manila, but as of now, I don’t want to,” I told her, and she stood up and hugged me.

“I don’t know what to say. I want to tell you that Jeff’s lucky he has you, but…” Her voice trailed. She released me from the hug and I grabbed my backpack, did a quick scan of the place if I had left anything, and then turned to her.

“Goodbye,” I said, and she nodded.

“Goodbye, Raya.”

–

Click here for Days to Thirty-Five Finale.

Days to Thirty-Five: Day Thirty-Five

Now, I’m told that this is life

And pain is just a simple compromise

So we can get what we want out of it

-Misguided Ghosts, Paramore

Day Thirty-Five: Pain is Just a Simple Compromise

It was like déjà vu—the laughs, the talks about where to head for lunch, the elevator stopping at the ninth floor and silence befalling the entire elevator as Jeff and his officemates (Jake included) entered. The only difference maybe was that instead of my body feeling warm like the last time, I felt cold and numb.

I cleared my throat and was thankful that Melai had started the conversation again. I was afraid to catch Jeff’s eye, so I didn’t glance at him. My friends started to laugh, and I tried to join them, but I wasn’t able to fake it well for Jeff was staring—at me, I’m sure of that this time.

I breathed a sigh of relief when the doors opened at the ground floor, and I filed out calmly out of the apparatus and followed my officemates. I was three steps away when he called me.

“Raya,” Jeff called, “can we talk?”

I stopped in my tracks—I literally froze—and Angie and Melai both gave me looks that said they can get me out of this if I want to.

The only thing is I wanted to get this over and done with.

I gave them a small smile and said, “Text me where you’ll be and I’ll just catch up with you.” They reluctantly nodded, and was followed by Jeff’s officemates, who passed by me, giving me curt nods of acknowledgments.

I breathed deeply before facing Jeff. “Let’s walk?” I suggested, and he nodded. “Sure,” he said, stepping next to me and we started to walk slowly. Each step we made was calculated, as if he and I were weighing each other’s moods.

My right foot had just stepped onto the sidewalk when Jeff spoke. “You left me. You disappeared.”

I smiled sadly. His tone sounded really accusatory, like I did something punishable by death penalty. “I left a note.”

“You left the book I gave you, with a post-it note inside, telling me that you have to go home. And that you’ll see me. But I can’t reach you. You wouldn’t answer my calls or text messages, you’ve blocked me in your IM account, and you’ve told your receptionist to tell me that you’re busy, or you’re in a meeting, or you’re on field.”

“I’m talking to you now, and I think that’s what you should look at.”

He shook his head. “And then I saw the note on the front flap of the book. You think I’d stick to that explanation?”

“Congratulations. You now have the very first autographed copy of Fall and Solace. If I become a hit as an author, you can one day sell that.”

“Can I get a straight answer?” he snapped, and I nodded. I pointed to a deserted waiting shed at the end of the curb and we sat there.

“The real version is that I am getting hurt and you’re still hung up on your ex. The bullshit version is what I wrote on that note on the flap: that I love you, and that you needed to do some picking up.”

“Both versions hurt,” Jeff admitted, and I nodded. “Is the I-love-you part bullshit too?”

I shook my head. “Oh no. That’s the part of the bullshit version that should have been a part of the real version too,” I said truthfully, and Jeff sighed. He looked deep into my eyes and said the words that I had longed to hear (eek, cheesy): “I love you, too.”

“There’s a hanging but to your declaration, Jeff.”

“Yeah,” he said, and he held my hand. I wish he hadn’t done that. Here comes the bad part. “I love you but I have to let you go for now because I am not the man deserving of you yet. I am not yet whole—just broken pieces that I had hoped you can put together and hold tightly. You don’t deserve to be just the glue that holds me together.”

“I am the glue, the band-aid, and the bandage. You and Mark have very nice metaphors as to what I am to you,” I said with a bitter smile. He reached out and cupped my face in his hands. “I love you,” he whispered, his eyes intense.

“But you have to heal yourself first. I know that,” I replied, closing my eyes. He urged me to open them again. I wouldn’t want to stare in those black swirls filled with pain. He pleaded once more and I had given in to him again.

“I won’t ask you to wait for me, but I hope you will.”

I smiled, a tear finally falling down my eyes. Jeff wiped it with his thumb. “We’ll see. Maybe I can find another endangered specie like you,” I said, and he laughed. He kissed me on the forehead. “I hope you won’t.”

I stared at him, memorizing his face. I knew that even if I’d see him in the building still, we can never talk the same way we had in the past month, nor can we interact fully for he can’t heal with me around. I breathed deeply and gathered myself.

“I’ll see you around?” I said candidly. He nodded, and then leaned over, kissing me full, long, hard, and passionate.

“You will.”

I stood up and walked away, fighting the urge to look back.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or locales is entirely slightly coincidental. :)

 

To download the PDF version of the file, click here: Kessica Tanglao – Days to Thirty-Five (2009)