She Said, He Said

SHE SAID: I officially declare that he won’t ever give me the light of day.

In that case, I might make a move so that he’d notice me.

Or maybe, I won’t.

I saw him again with that same girl he was with before. It was lunch and it looked like they were going to buy food. And I couldn’t stop myself. I need to talk to him, right here, right now.

–

HE SAID: She was storming at me and my officemate-slash-sister like she’s about to rage war.

“Hi. Excuse me,” she said, and my officemate and I turned to look at her. I was mostly surprised by this, so I was merely stumped. She turned her attention to me, her eyes ablaze. “You said we’re going to have lunch. Can we go ahead?” she said, and I gaped at her.

My friend looked at me, a wide grin on her face. She knew who my biggest crush is. “I thought you said she doesn’t know you? And here we are, devising ways as to how we’d talk to her. You didn’t tell me that you already asked her out,” she said, and I still couldn’t say anything. My friend winked at me, gave a curt nod to the other woman, who was just as stumped as I was, and left me with her.

She Said, He Said

SHE SAID: It was eight in the evening, and I am hungry. I am starting to think who I can ask out for dinner because I have no plans of eating alone, but I am guessing most of my friends have already finished eating their dinner and are probably in front of their TV sets, watching the primetime soaps. And here I am, just heading home from work.

Whatalife.

The elevator dinged open and I allowed it to swallow me. I pressed the ground floor robotically, and waited for it to fast track me to the ground, as it usually does when I go home this late. But it didn’t. It made a stop.

And when it opened, I swear to heavens, all I could do was to hold my breath.

–

HE SAID: It’s her.

What are the odds that in one of the rare moments I do overtime, she’s the one I am going to ride the elevator with?

I entered and she stepped to her left, and we were at the center of the apparatus as it zoomed 15 floors down. I didn’t know what to do—I want to talk to her but I am not sure if she would reply. Since the elevator’s three other sides (the last side being the door) is lined by mirrors, I could see her as she stared at her reflection. Slowly, she bit her lip, and I breathed deeply.

Yes, I will talk to her. Right here, right now.

The moment I opened my mouth was the moment the elevator doors opened.

She gave me a curt nod and exited the elevator.

SHE SAID: It was eight in the evening, and I am hungry. I am starting to think who I can ask out for dinner because I have no plans of eating alone, but I am guessing most of my friends have already finished eating their dinner and are probably in front of their TV sets, watching the primetime soaps. And here I am, just heading home from work.

Whatalife.

The elevator dinged open and I allowed it to swallow me. I pressed the ground floor robotically, and waited for it to fast track me to the ground, as it usually does when I go home this late. But it didn’t. It made a stop.

And when it opened, I swear to heavens, all I could do was to hold my breath.

HE SAID: It’s her.

What are the odds that in one of the rare moments I do overtime, she’s the one I am going to ride the elevator with?

I entered and she stepped to her left, and we were at the center of the apparatus as it zoomed 15 floors down. I didn’t know what to do—I want to talk to her but I am not sure if she would reply. Since the elevator’s three other sides (the last side being the door) is lined by mirrors, I could see her as she stared at her reflection. Slowly, she bit her lip, and I breathed deeply.

Yes, I will talk to her. Right here, right now.

The moment I opened my mouth was the moment the elevator doors opened.

She gave me a curt nod and exited the elevator.

She Said, He Said

SHE SAID: This guy I don’t really like came to pick me up from office today. He brought me cute pink roses, although I would prefer red ones. Pink was my color when I was a kid, during my Hello Kitty days, during the days when everything I would point to—my pencil case, my bag, my clothes—would be pink. But now I’d like blue, yellow or white, but not pink. Purple is cool. Anyway, he picked me up, brought me Ferrero Rocher and those cutsie pink roses.

We were at the lobby when I thought I saw him—him who won’t give me the light of day. He glanced at me, and I thought I saw his eyes narrow when he saw the guy I don’t really like place an arm over my shoulder. But when I blinked, it was gone. He was smiling at one of his officemates whom he was having a cigarette break with. I shrugged the other guy’s hand off my shoulder, nonchalantly passing it off as adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

The guy who brought me the roses gave me a faint smile, and I returned it, as genuinely  and as brightly as I could.

I wish the one I am walking with, the one who gave me the roses and chocolates, is the one who is lighting his cigarette now.

–

HE SAID: I want to crush him with my feet, beat him up into a pulp, and toss him to the streets for the cars to run over.

Who in the world is that guy?!

He brought her pink roses. PINK. Grace, elegance, admiration. Pink roses say thank you, for Pete’s sake. That woman deserves a red rose—beauty, perfection, deep feelings meant to be given to someone who is special. I breathed in deeply as my officemate passed me a cigarette. I watched as the guy placed his arm over her shoulder, and she seemed to have shied away from his touch that she shrugged his hand off. I had to smile at that one. Maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t like him that much.

Maybe I am hoping too much too.

When they passed by me, she didn’t steal a glance like she always does when I am around. She looked up at the guy she was with, gave him a megawatt smile, and I gritted my teeth.

She said, He said

SHE SAID: I saw him the other day. With another girl. They were talking as they walked, McDonald’s take outs in their arms, laughing at each other’s stories. His eyes twinkled when he looked at her, and I wanted to fume. But then again, I wasn’t anyone in his life.

I am just someone who is trying to get his attention, someone who hopes he’d get to notice.

But if he’s happy with another woman, I’ll let him be.

I don’t have a right to care or be hurt anyway.

–

HE SAID: I saw her the other day. While I was talking to one of my officemates who could double as my sister, blood ties or not. We came from McDonald’s where I saw her too, and I bought the exact same thing she ordered: Chicken Nuggets with sweet and sour  sauce, Sprite, regular fries, and a hot fudge sundae. I was in line behind her, three or four persons away, but she didn’t notice me because she seemed distracted.

I wonder why, and I wonder when I can gather up the courage to approach her and tell her that ever since the day I saw her at the lobby of the office building, I look forward to lunch breaks. The first time I saw her, she had a pensive look on her face as she waited for her officemates as they withdraw money from their ATMs, her forehead crumpled in a slight frown, her big, round eyes filled with conflicting emotions. I didn’t know if it was her soulful eyes that captivated me, but I like her. I found myself craning my head every time a tall woman with shoulder-length hair would pass by.

That other day, she looked pained. I want to know why, so that I can keep that pain from hurting her again.

Haunted*

The steps on the stairs

Aren’t really there

Feel like there’s someone watching me

Shadows on the wall

Whispers down the hall

When I look there’s nothing to see

You say that you let her go

Turn the page and closed the door

I can’t get inside your head

’cause when I try, she’s there instead

I can’t compete with a memory

How can I fight with someone that I can’t see?

There’s two of us but it feels like three

I wish her ghost would just let us be

Boy, you’re everything I ever wanted

But I got to let you go ’cause this love is…

Haunted

Haunted

You say that she’s gone

That you’ve moved on

So why do I feel her eyes on me

Invisible chains keep us in pain

Won’t you please tell her set you free?

Sometimes when you look past me

Your eyes see someone I can’t see

So I’ve given up this war

’cause I can’t fight it anymore

Wish I could cast a spell to make her spirit leave

The walls close and then it’s so damn hard to breath

There is nothing I could do about it…

I don’t want to fight anymore

Someone is walking out that door…

Haunted

Haunted…

Sometimes it’s better that when you already tell yourself that the relationship was doomed from the start, you give up on it—rather than try saving it.

You end up hurting yourself even more.

“Evey!”

I sat up at the sound of Eric’s voice. I must have dozed off while doing my RRL for my thesis. The clock on my desk reads 5:00 PM.

That’s an hour spent on sleeping.

“Evey! Someone’s looking for you.”

Eric’s voice was followed by three knocks, and the door to my room opened. Enter my dear brother in his white sweat-drenched shirt and jogging pants, and I surmised he had just arrived from a jog.

If he wasn’t my brother, I knew I’d consider him hot.

Fortunately, I am not into committing incest.

Back when we were kids, Eric and I would almost always fight just about like any other siblings would do. Ours was tougher: twins. Going about school at the same level as your sibling split your parents’ attention (and money) like hell. We were both achievers, Eric and I. Eric played for the school’s basketball team and I smashed it for the badminton squad, and we work it in the classroom and on the dance floor as well.

Eric was the school heartthrob, and he’d say that I “wasn’t bad either.” He considers himself my guardian when it comes to my “scores of suitors” (his words, not mine). We would then finish high school with him as the batch salutatorian and me as the valedictorian—all the same, it’s a victory for the Monticello family.

The Monticello twins ruling the world, as my friends would say.

We went on to enter the country’s premiere university, the University of the Philippines, with Eric taking up BA Psychology while I went for Communication Research.

He would always ask me why I didn’t take Psychology instead, since he knew it was one of my interests.

And I would answer: “Yet another competition? I’ll pass.”

And Eric would smile.

“Who is it?” I asked him, standing up to meet him at the door.

“Someone,” he said mysteriously, staging a shrug. I rolled my eyes at my twin’s theatrics, and he closed the door of my room. I rushed to the mirror and made sure my hair’s okay, and headed out, feeling that my tank top and shorts is decent enough.

Please God make it Justin. I haven’t seen him in two weeks.

When I got to the living room, the shirt, the stance, and height told me it was, in fact, him. I watched him for a moment as he surveyed the photo wall that he and I, along with Eric, put up a few weeks ago. Since the three of us are all shutterbugs, we had a lot of photos stashed in our rooms that we never really had an idea where we’ll be placing them. Eric had the idea of putting up the photo wall.

The photo wall ended up pretty well, although it exhibited more pictures of me and Justin.

He must have felt that I was watching him, and he turned, and when he saw me, he gave me a small, sad smile.

“Hi,” Justin greeted, almost shyly.

I returned his smile.

“Hey,” I said, and we met halfway. He gazed at me in the eyes when we reached each other, and then he pulled me into a tight hug. “I missed you so much. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize how much I love you,” he whispered, and I just nodded.

“What matters is that you realized that it’s that way,” I told him, and he released me from the hug. He kissed me on the forehead. “Better late than never, huh?” he teased, and I laughed, hitting him playfully on the chest.

“The next time you hurt me, Justin? I swear this is going to end,” I whispered, and he realized the seriousness in my voice.

“That will never happen, Evey,” he said. “That will never happen.”

“How many boyfriends did you have?”

I yawned before looking up at Justin, who posed the question while cooking cheese omelets, which I learned was his favorite. He whipped up the pancake batter on the side, then flipped the cheese omelet, and looked up to meet my gaze. He gave me a toothy smile.

He looked so cute cooking.

Cooking is just one of his many talents.

He picked me up from my place last night, suggested I “sleep over” at his condo unit (despite my twin’s protests), for he considered that I’d be busy with two papers to do for one of my more toxic subjects but wanted to spend time with me. I packed my things and here we are, having a very early breakfast at 3AM.

“Does it really matter at this point?” I asked back. More than two years of knowing him, and this is the point when he asks me how many guys came before him. Real nice, Justin.

He stared—that means yes.

I sighed. “Two. Both serious.”

“How long?”

“Tim’s a year and a half. Devin’s three years.”

Silence. A little more flipping and he slid the perfect omelet onto a plate. He whipped the pancake batter yet again and then poured some onto the buttered pan. It sizzled, and I caught the very nice buttery smell.

“Where are they now?”

I was confused on who’s “they,” and it took me three full seconds to realize he was asking about Tim and Devin. “Tim’s at Ateneo, studying Management Engineering. He’s great at math and got excellent people skills. Devin’s going to UP as well. Business Administration and Accounting. They’re both math geniuses, something that I’m not,” I explained, feeling weird about our conversation.

“Still seeing Devin?”

I smiled slyly. So that’s where our conversation is going.

I shrugged, and said, “He was my classmate last semester in Italian, and lo and behold, he’s my classmate now in STS.”

Justin stopped and stared at me, reading the emotions on my face. I winked at him, and he crumpled his face. That was his usual mannerism when he’s irritated.

“He’s got a girlfriend, if that helps.”

No reaction from Justin, he flipped what seems to be the third pancake and slid it onto a plate, cut three small slivers of butter and placed it on top. He walked over to the dining table where I was, and he placed the plate in front of me.

“How about you? How many girlfriends did you have?” I asked, stopping him by the arm. An inexplicable expression was on his face for a fleeting moment—confusion, pain, sadness, and something else.

“Just one. Lui. Six years.”

We stared at each other for a moment, and he was the first to avoid my gaze. He didn’t want me to see the longing in his eyes.

He still loves Lui.

Remind me again why I stayed in this relationship?

I removed my hand on his arm and returned to my laptop. “The omelet’s burning,” I said coldly, and he rushed towards the stove and shut the burner off.

He walked back to me, and kneeled in front of me.

“I love you—so much, okay? And I’m happy with what we have now,” he whispered, and I just nodded, not absorbing the length of his statement. He held me by the chin and leaned in, kissing me. Gentle at first, and then deeper, and then I pushed him away.

Six months into this, and he still hesitates whenever he says he loves me. Seemed to me he was convincing more of himself than me.

He tweaked my nose and pulled me in a hug. I blinked my tears away.

The telephone was ringing like mad, and I waited for Justin to pop out of his room to answer it. He didn’t come out, and I heard him singing, figured he was in the shower.

“Justin, the phone’s ringing!” I called out.

More singing.

I sighed, picking up the nearby wireless phone and saying to the mouthpiece, “Hello?”

A pause, and then a female voice said, almost frantically, “Hi. Is Justin there?”

I frowned. A woman, calling Justin, at 5 AM?

“He’s taking a bath. May I know who’s calling?” I said politely.

“Lui. Evey, is that you?”

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. The woman calling Justin at 5AM is his ex-now-turned-friend-but-he-still-loves-her. “Lui,” I said, trying to liven up my voice. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Wow. It’s nice to know that you guys are okay now,” she said, and I somehow heard a sniffle come through. “You okay?” I asked, genuinely concerned. “Just tell Justin to call me as soon as he finishes his bath, okay?” she replied evasively.

“You sure?” I pressed lightly. In my mind, I saw her smile, and she replied, “Yes. Just tell him to call me.” Another sniffle, and the line went dead.

I stopped, stared at the phone, wondering what was wrong with Lui.

“Lui called. Said call her as soon as you, well, finish singing in the bath.”

Justin hit his head with his palm and mutter a curse under his breath. He looked so sexy with only a towel around his waist and nothing else, and I knew he had some other plans in his head when he came out of the showers—but Lui ruined it.

He walked over and grabbed the wireless phone off the tabletop, swooped down and kissed me on the lips, and walked back into his room. I heard him talking on the phone, and after a good ten minutes he was out of the room, dressed in jeans and shirt and rubber shoes.

“I… I have to—“ He stopped, obviously hesitating.

“Go and meet Lui. Got it,” I filled in, not looking at him. In a few strides he was in front of me. “No, it’s not that. She said there’s an emergency, and… I need to go to her place and check. Something about her mom,” he explained, and I nodded.

“I’d go there and return here then I’ll take you home. I’ll try to make it in an hour, alright?” he said gently, and he held me by the chin so that I can see his eyes and he can see mine. I shook my head. “You can go there, take all the time in the world. I can take care of myself, so don’t worry about me,” I told him, and he looked uncertain.

I reached out and touched his face, and then tweaked his nose. Forced a smile so that I can complete the act that it’s perfectly okay for me that he’s going to see his ex who had just caused us to nearly break up a month ago, and now she’s doing it again. “Go,” I whispered, and he kissed me full on the lips and on the forehead.

“I’ll see you later,” he whispered back.

The moment he walked out the door, I let my tears fall.

This is hurting me way too much than I expected.

I’ve got an hour and a half before my class starts, and Justin’s flat is a good five-minute drive from campus. I rummaged in my tote bag for my shirt—I knew I packed one—but couldn’t find it. All that was in my bag were my toiletries, my underwear, and my kikay kit. (My pants are doing a repeat performance.)

I cussed under my breath, and headed for Justin’s room, the door ajar. I wondered silently if it was okay if I grab a shirt from his cabinet, considering if I still need to ask permission for such a ‘small’ thing.

I slowly walked into Justin’s fairly large room—almost double the size of my room. It was so neat and orderly, much like Justin’s personality. His obsession with being neat and organized emanates from his room. The books were stacked in a neat pile on a shelf at the far end of the room, next to the study table with a blue desk lamp with his name engraved on it. His laptop was there, next to his PC. Did I tell you he’s rich, too?

At another corner of his room were his guitars arranged in their stands and his drum set. To my left was his closet, and sure enough, when I opened it, his jeans and polo shirts and formal attires were all crisp and fresh, all in hangers, all arranged by colors. At the left of his closet were the shirts, also arranged by colors. I browsed by the drawers and saw his underwear, socks, boxers and undershirts, starched and smelling nice, all folded neatly.

God.

His caps and hats and shades were at a metal tree, still looking so organized.

I sighed.

I looked around and found a nice-looking shirt that didn’t shout “I’m a guy,” and was about to leave Justin’s room when a box at a corner of his room caught my eye. It was a wooden box, intricately engraved with flowers and leaves in a continuing pattern around the box corners. It wasn’t locked—actually I could peek inside a crack in the box between the cover and the body—and I hesitated before fully opening it.

Inside were letters, ticket stubs, receipts, a bottle filled with what seemed like tiny notes and little reminders in post-its of every imaginable color, chocolate wrappers and price tags of expensive clothes, and three or more little boxes of what looked like watches and other guy accessories. I reached into the box and got the letters bound by a rubber band, and thumbed through it. A neat scrawl, not man’s handwriting—definitely not Justin’s.

It was a woman’s.

I pulled one letter from the stack, didn’t read through it, just wanting to know who was the sender of the letter.

I got the answer right away.

LUI.

I placed the letter back in the stack, and let the stack fall on my lap. The notes in post-its were in a clear glass bottle, and I screwed its top open and pulled a couple of post-its.

“Hey there babe. Eat your lunch, ok? I’ll see you later. Love you to bits.”

“Hi sweet. Got us tickets to Wednesday game. And I’ve got a surprise for you. *wink* Love u loads.”

“Honey, u left your notebook at my place. Too stressed out, baby. Smile.”

A tear from my eyes fell onto the note. I gasped. Good thing the note wasn’t written in smudgy ink, or else Justin would know I was snooping around his stuff. I placed the post-its back into the bottle and then into the box.

Two tickets to a PBA Finals game, Ginebra versus the then San Miguel Beermen, patron.

Two tickets to a Black Eyed Peas concert and another couple for a Maroon Five and two for an Incubus concert. Another two for a playoffs game between the Phoenix Suns and the LA Lakers.

That rich that they can afford to fly all the way to either Phoenix or LA to watch a game.

Plane tickets to Hong Kong and Singapore.

Receipts from Bubba Gump Shrimp Co., Italianni’s, Shakey’s and Pizza Hut, and even down to Jollibee and McDonald’s.

Movie tickets were also there.

I reached into the box and opened one of the plastic casings, found a Timex watch that I knew suited Justin’s style and taste. Another mini-box contained a silver watch that looked so regal I knew it was for formal occasions. An engraving was at the back of the watch—similar to the scrawl on my necklace pendant—and it read: Justin. A date was written below: July 15, 2004. Three years ago.

Inside was yet another post-it: “Happy 3^rd, baby.”

Third anniversary.

It took me forty-five minutes to finish everything in the box, and I was crying the entire time.

Justin held on to every single bit of Lui and his relationship with her—and I never knew how much of a memento-person he was.

The box was partly opened when I found it, meaning Justin was probably going through it a little while back.

The guy still holds on to memories of a past love, and re-lives them by looking through mementos.

He still loves her.

And I can’t compete with that.

I can’t replace that.

I heard three raps on the door and I figured it’s Eric. His head popped into the room and it felt like déjà vu, like he’s here to tell me that Justin’s here and waiting to see me for the nth time.

“Hey sis.” I looked up briefly from Stephenie Meyer’s New Moon and buried myself in the book again. “Can I come in?” he asked lightly, not pressing, not intrusive.

“I’m reading,” I said coldly. He still came in, however.

“I know. You’ve been reading that book for the past three days. I saw you’re already done with it—I can’t understand why you have to reread it for God-only-knows-how-many-times. Are you trying to memorize it?”

I sighed impatiently, placed my bookmark on the page I am reading, and shut it loudly. “I am trying to realize why Edward left Bella. He had the chance to be with the love of his life—or eternity—yet he chose to stay away,” I said gravely.

“I am not familiar with that story, but Lauren was gushing about it like hell. I’m planning to read it one of these days… but why are you wondering about it?” he asked, sitting on the edge of my bed.

I stayed silent, and then shook my head.

Lauren. Seems like my twin found the love of his life in the person of my best friend.

I winced. What will happen to me and Lauren when she and Eric break up someday?

I quickly erased that thought from my head. Not every relationship on planet earth will end the same way mine did. Eventually, everyone will find their own Bella, just as Edward did.

But do they have to go through the same pain that you and Bella are undergoing right now? asked another part of me.

“Evey…”

I looked up at my twin, who was eyeing me worriedly. I gave him a small smile. “I’m fine, Eric,” I said to his unvoiced concern.

“Justin”—I cringed at the mere mention of his name—“hasn’t been around here for the past two weeks. He’s usually doing that when you guys are not okay,” he continued carefully.

“I… am the one avoiding him,” I explained. “I think I broke up with him through text,” I admitted shyly.

“You think?” Eric demanded. “You THINK?”

He made me face him. “Evey, what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?” I looked away. I couldn’t bear to see the accusation in his eyes. “You don’t break up with a guy through text. Much more, you don’t break up with a guy you’ve wanted to be with for so long!” he said exasperatedly, and I stopped.

“I will break up with him when I want to—because he is not good for me anymore,” I said in a whisper. Confusion fleeted Eric’s face for a moment, and I began narrating in a hollow voice what I saw in Justin’s room two weeks ago.

“You assume too much, Evey,” Eric commented when I finished.

“Assume or not, it hurt a lot, Eric. And it’s better for him to think about how he feels and who he loves without me bothering him.”

“Did you tell him that? Because as far as I am concerned, a simple text message won’t really explain everything,” he pointed out.

I laughed a mirthless laugh. “It was ten messages long, Eric.”

“He deserves better than that.”

“I DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS, ERIC, AND YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE BECAUSE IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE OBVIOUS, YOU ARE MY TWIN BROTHER, AND THE FRIGGING GUY YOU ARE DEFENDING IS SOMEHOW CHEATING ON ME BECAUSE HE IS IN LOVE WITH ANOTHER WOMAN!” I raged, hitting him again and again on his chest. I didn’t realize I was already crying.

“Another woman I thought I had already replaced in his heart since I came,” I whispered, still sobbing. He made a hushing sound, and then waited for me to calm down. He rocked me in his arms.

“You can’t replace someone he’s been with for six years, Evey. Maybe you’re just wanting and demanding something more than he can give,” he said soothingly. There was no trace of accusation in his voice, and I stayed silent, still sobbing.

“I know he loves me,” I said, hiccupping, “but he just doesn’t love me enough.”

Eric made me look up at him, and he dried my tears with his finger. “Do you want me to talk to Justin?” he asked, his voice hard and his face like stone. I wondered silently what he’d do to Justin, but I figured he’d probably just talk to him—really just talk. I shook my head.

“You’re probably right. I have to tell him straight up I can’t deal with this relationship right now—or ever,” I said, finally sitting up.

He surveyed me, as if reading through my eyes if I really know what I was doing, and then he nodded carefully and calculatedly. “Yes, of course. If you say so,” Eric whispered. “Just remember, Evey, you should do what you think is right for both of you, and I trust you in whatever decision you’ll make, okay? I’m here.”

I grinned my brother’s grin, and he grinned back. I pulled him in a hug. “I know what I’m doing. For some reason, I feel that this is the best decision that I will ever make in my entire life,” I said, tears brimming in my eyes yet again.

“And here we are again.”

Justin looked up at me, almost shocked. When I called to tell him that I needed to see him, he was reluctant at first, unbelieving. When I told him that we have to deal with it now, he relented.

“I didn’t really expect you to come,” he said softly, standing up to pull out a chair for me. I thanked him quietly. I breathed deeply and tried to figure out how I should tell everything to him. When I opened my mouth to speak, he held up a hand to shut me up.

“No, Evey,” he said, almost painfully. I nodded. “When you told me that you can’t do it anymore, I understood. I thought it was just a cool off thing, you know? Just like before. But when I realized how badly you want out, I tried to think: what did I do to you and to us?

I tried to think back. Yes, maybe I didn’t fail to tell you that I love you. Maybe I never did fail to even show it to you. But then I knew where my mistake was—I didn’t know if I really did mean that I actually do love you. I know I do, but… Evey…”

I looked up at him and smiled sadly. “It’s not enough, right? You still love Lui. It’s still Lui,” I whispered.

Justin didn’t speak, but I saw the answer in his eyes. “It was six years, Evey—”

“And that is no excuse. I’ve had relationships before you, but I knew when it should stop. The love is still there, Justin, but I knew my limits and I knew my boundaries,” I cut in, almost harshly. He was taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Are you telling me to—”

“Stop loving Lui?” I cut in again, bitterly this time. “No, I’m not telling you to do that. I can’t let you do that because she is a part of you—six years’ worth of your life was with her. She is part of the Justin I loved,” I explained. “I just thought that Lui is part of your past, not your present, which should have consisted of me.”

The silence was very welcoming, so we stayed that way for a couple of minutes.

“This wasn’t my purpose of meeting you, Justin,” I said after a while, heaving a sigh. I looked away. “I’m officially ending this. I owe you at least that, not breaking up with you through text.”

He reached out across the table and held my hand.

“I want you to remember that I lo—”

“Justin, no, please,” I said, realizing what he was about to say. That’s the last thing I needed right now.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Evey. You deserve better,” he whispered. I pulled my hand away from his and put on a brave face.

“Be happy, Justin. I hope one day you’ll be.” I stood up and was about to leave, but Justin followed me and hugged me from behind.

“Evey… if one day… I get through this and realize… everything… will you…” He stopped, and I waited.

“Will you still love me?”

I didn’t speak. I removed his arms around me and left.

–

Haunted is a song by Rihanna, released in her album Good Girl Gone Bad. Music is by Evan Rogers and Carl Sturken. No copyright infringement intended.

When You’re Gone*

I always needed time on my own

I never thought I’d need you there when I cry

And the days feel like years when I’m alone

And the bed where you lie is made up on your side

– 

When you walk away, I count the step that you take

Do you see how much I need you right now?

 –

When you’re gone

The pieces of my heart I’m missing you

When you’re gone

The face I came to know is missing too

When you’re gone

The words I need to hear to always get me through the day and make it okay

I miss you

 –

I’ve never felt this way before

Everything that I do reminds me of you

And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor

And they smell just like you

I love the things that you do

 –

We were made for each other

Out here forever

I know we were, yeah

All I ever wanted was for you to know

Everything I’d do, I’d give my heart and soul

I can hardly breathe

I need to feel you here with me, yeah…

 –

“Hey. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

I looked at John and nodded, forcing a smile. He was already off to his practice, which seemed to be almost every single time I see him—that is, if I do get to see him. “Take care,” I called out, my voice cracking.

I closed my eyes and wished for things to go back the way they used to be.

I jumped when someone kissed me on the forehead. I opened my eyes and I saw John, smiling at me. “I love you,” he whispered, and kissed me again on the lips. I nodded yet again.

“I miss you,” I whispered back. He frowned, and I know what he’s thinking: here we go again.

John set his gym bag down on the floor and held me close. “Andy, it’s UAAP season—”

“And I know you’re busy. I’m busy as well, and we both know that. But this relationship can’t and won’t survive if we just see each other for thirty minutes every week!” I said in a controlled voice.

He breathed deeply and held both my hands. “You said you understood,” he said after a long pause.

“I said I understood, but that doesn’t entirely mean I do not have the right to demand more time from you, John,” I countered. “I understood what I got into when you courted me and I became your girlfriend. I understood what I got into when I loved you, John. How about you? Did you understand what you got yourself into when you told me you loved me and asked me to be your girlfriend?”

John was taken aback at my question. I smirked, and grabbed his gym bag off the floor and handed it to him. He reluctantly took it from me, slinging it over his shoulder. “Your team is waiting for you. Go,” I said coldly, pushing him towards his car. He looked at me apologetically, and then headed off.

I let the tears fall as soon as John’s car sped off. When can I tell him?

 –

At the end of the regulation, our score is 75 for your Ateneo Blue Eagles, and 75 for your UST Growling Tigers! We’re heading into overtime!

I heard myself groan. John failed to make a shot before the buzzer ended regulation, and now they still need extra five minutes to settle this budding rivalry. I watched as he slowly dragged his feet to back to the bench, looking at the overhead board while he’s at it.

He’s got four fouls, and he’s survived the last ten minutes of the game without giving up his last foul. Aside from the glaring number four under the ‘F’ column, right next to his jersey number—8—is the number of points he’s made for this game alone: 25.

When I returned my gaze back to the court, John was already at their bench. I saw him gave a hurried glance to where I was, and I gave him an encouraging smile. He knew I was watching the game even though we fought last night—he knew I’d still be there even if he didn’t want me to.

“John told me you guys had a bit of an argument last night,” Maya, John’s sister, spoke through the blaring drums in the Coliseum. I nodded slowly. I wasn’t surprised that Maya knew about the fight—John and his sister are very close.

“You siding with John again?” I asked, and Maya laughed. “No. Not this time,” she said quietly. “I admit John was pretty much busy these past few months—considering he had to assume the role of being the team captain. But I believe that doesn’t give him an excuse to not see you at least twice a week. I reckon he isn’t calling you anymore?” she continued, and I nodded.

“My brother needs pretty good spanking, you know,” Maya retorted, and she elicited a smile from me. “Your brother is busy, and I know that. It’s just that sometimes you miss the things you used to do together, and you just”—I paused, groping for the right word—“miss him and miss who you are with him, you know?” I countered, and Maya nodded.

“You guys talked already?”

“Nah. He’s got this big darn game. Maybe later,” I said, shrugging.

The buzzer sounded and it was time for the OT period. John quickly made a trey, putting his team up by three. It was ecstatic, I was one with the crowd in cheering—Maya was equally a huge fan of basketball just as I was.

And then it hit.

I felt my chest crumple and sear in pain, stopping my breath in the middle of a yell. I slumped back down to my seat, trying not to clutch my chest so as not to alarm Maya. I couldn’t breathe—the air seemed to be spikes of ice piercing my throat down to my chest—and everything just seemed to blur.

“Andy.”

I looked up and saw Maya’s worried face. “Are you okay?” she asked, crouching back down to her seat, surveying me with her gray eyes—similar with John’s steel gray’s. I closed my eyes and waited for the attack to settle. I have to get out of here, I thought, as I heard the crowd’s thunderous cheer yet again—John’s team had scored yet again.

I opened my eyes and grabbed my purse, and slowly walked to the restrooms, Maya following me albeit hesitantly.

“Andy,” she repeated as soon as we reached the ladies’ room. I struggled to find my pills in my purse, and as soon as I found them I popped it in my mouth, not caring if I gobbled it down without water—all I need is for the pain to stop right now.

“What is wrong?” Maya asked softly, worry still evident in her voice. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw I was already crying, and I wiped the tears by grabbing paper towels of the dispenser by the sink. I turned to her.

“I was diagnosed with a heart ailment when I was a kid, something that the doctor said I could outgrow. It’s some form of heart arrhythmia—rhythm problems with the heart that usually go harmless. Almost a month or two ago, I experienced chest pains that seem to be out of context—studying, reading, or just plainly at rest,” I began slowly, still gathering my breath.

“Doc reckons my chest pains were a result of that arrhythmia, said that it grew more severe. To sum it all, he said that if I couldn’t do it on meds, I get an operation—they put something in my heart or valves, whatever—to remedy it. If I opted not to get the operation and meds don’t do the trick, I’m saying goodbye to everyone,” I finished, forcing a smile.

Maya stared at me, obviously astounded by what I told her. I started to fix myself as Maya looked on. “My brother doesn’t know,” she said, more of a statement rather than a question. I nodded.

“That’s why I’m begging him for more time. I don’t know how long I’m staying here,” I said sadly, choking back the tears. “I don’t want to tell him right now—season’s at a peak—for it might distract his game. I don’t want to do that.”

Maya hugged me. “You have to let him know. That’s too much to carry on your own,” she whispered. I stayed quiet. Yes, it’s too much to carry on my own—no parents (separated when I was ten, left me alone to be a part of their monthly expenses—at least), no siblings, no relatives. All I have was just John and his family, and a select group of friends.

“Don’t tell him, Maya. Promise me,” I said, holding her off by the shoulders and waiting for her to swear. She stared at me, and for a moment I thought she’s going to shake her head and disagree with my decision. She nodded.

“Okay. But you tell him as soon as you can, okay?” she said softly, and I nodded.

“We should get back there before John realizes we’ve gone,” I said, leading the way back to the Coliseum.

 –

“Morning babe. Want to go out? No classes today.”

I read John’s message for the third time before realizing he was asking me out. We finally got some free time—something I’ve wanted since the doctor gave me a four-month leeway for the medicines to set in, and for me to decide whether or not I’d take that operation.

Before I could even reply, John started to call. “Hey boyfriend,” I greeted sleepily.

“Woke you up?”

I grinned and looked at the clock. “It’s 6 AM, John,” I replied, sitting up.

“I’m actually outside your house, waiting for you to open the door. I’ve got breakfast, honey,” he replied coolly, and I got up.

“You’re kidding.”

He laughed, and I heard a knock on the door. He isn’t. It’s for real. I shook my head as I opened the door, knowing very well that my hair’s splayed all over my face and I look like a zombie. John was there at the door, holding a bag of Pancake House takeout at his right hand, Starbucks takeout on the other, his cell phone lodged between his ear and his shoulder, and a bouquet of roses tucked beneath his right arm.

He looked like a lovesick puppy waiting for someone to notice him.

I laughed, and boy, I knew I was blushing.

He winked at me, and I helped him by getting his cell phone and the Starbucks takeout.

“Wow, why the lavish breakfast?”

John gave me a luscious kiss on the lips before answering. “Quality time,” he said simply. I smirked and settled the Starbucks tumbler on the dining table, and John followed the suit with his luggage. As I was turning away, he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me towards him.

“What does my princess plan to do with me today?” he asked sweetly, and I laughed.

“I’d want you to be my slave, Mr. Tuazon,” I teased, and John’s eyes narrowed. “Do not tempt me, Andrea,” he said, his voice filled with warning.

“I’m not tempting you, John.”

I kissed him on the forehead, down to his nose and then on his lips. John tugged at my waist and I moved into his arms as he deepened the kiss. I pulled away, breathless, after a few more moments.

“I’m going to move away before it happens again, okay?” I whispered heavily, and he nodded. He knows we both give in to each other so easily—one hot makeout session would lead to crumpled bed sheets, a mix and mesh of grunts, moans, and groans, and multiple O’s. (John is so great. *wink*)

I pulled away—for real this time—and started to set the table for our breakfast.

“How are you?” John asked after a few minutes’ silence.

I paused, grabbing the Starbucks cup and sipping some. How could I tell him?

“I have something up in the next two weeks. Attend that, will you?” I replied instead.

“What’s that?”

“Some school stuff.”

Silence.

“I miss you.”

I looked up at John and saw he was gazing at me, longing in his eyes. I smiled sadly, biting into the pancake.

“You’ll be in my game this Thursday, right?” he asked, and I nodded. “Do I ever miss any of your games?” I asked back, and he reached across the table for my hand.

We started to eat in silence, my hand still in John’s.

 –

I was in the bathroom when it hit.

I crouched next to the shower knob and tried to let it pass, for my pills were outside in my room where John is, probably watching television. Tears already fell from my eyes as my chest grew tighter, air getting thinner with ever breath.

I screamed.

“God, please,” I whispered, holding on to the shower knob for support.

“Andy? Dea? Are you okay?” I heard John call out from the door. The doorknob rattled as he tried to enter, and I heard his repeated calls of my name.

“Dea? What’s wrong?”

I breathed in painfully, and managed to force, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

I stayed silent. Another lightning-like pain seared through my chest, and I had to fight off another scream. I lay there in the bathroom floor, curled, feeling every single twang of pain under the cold drops of water from the shower.

For what seems like thirty miles away, I heard John’s faint calls, and then everything went black.

 –

“You didn’t tell me about this.”

I stirred and heard John’s cold voice from my closed eyes. Am I dreaming?

Slowly, I realized I wasn’t, and I opened my eyes. John was staring down on me, his gray eyes emotionless.

“How did you get into the bathroom?” I asked back, unfazed by his cold look. He sighed, and then said, “Knocked down the door.”

“You need to fix that.”

He smiled despite the irritation that crossed his face for a fleeting moment. “You won’t wiggle you way out of this, Andrea.”

I winced. When John uses my full name, he’s dead serious. “I know,” I began, sitting up in bed. I kissed him on the cheek first and that seemed to lighten him up. I saw that I was in an all-blue attire—blue shorts, blue tank top.

“Pretty nice color coordination you have, John. Thanks for dressing me up,” I teased, and he gave me a stern face.

“Andy…”

I nodded, turning serious. “You should realize that I am only telling you this because you caught me and not because I wanted you to know, right?” I told him, and he nodded.

“I remember telling you before that I have a heart ailment that the doc said I’d outgrow.” I stopped when I heard John take a deep and sudden breath. “But you didn’t,” he said ominously, and I nodded.

“Three to four months on meds. If the meds won’t do it, I have to get the operation—if I opt to, that is,” I continued, and John’s face lit up. “Then take the operation,” he growled.

“I have a 30% chance of getting out alive from the operating room, so I might die either way. If my heart won’t do me in, the operation just might,” I pointed out quickly. John placed his head in his hands, and I watched his emotions go from a high—finding out that there’s an operation that could save my life—to a very low—that the operation just might kill me at the same time.

I placed my hand on his nape and rubbed it a bit. “You know why I didn’t tell you as soon as I found out?” I said softly. John didn’t reply. “I didn’t want to see that look on your face. I don’t want you to go out and play on court and think if that could just be your last game that I’d be watching and cheering for you. I don’t want you to look at me, kiss me and tell me you love me, and wonder if I’d drop dead right then and there,” I said, tears streaming down my face.

John looked up, tears in his eyes, and hugged me tightly. “You know, every night as I lay to sleep? I always pray to God one thing: that I’d wake up the next day so that I’ll be able to see your face and hear your voice. I love you, John. You’re the only one I have left. That’s why I keep on fighting. Just you,” I whispered, and he nodded.

It wasn’t a secret starting from the day we met that I’ve got no family. My parents got separated when I was ten and I’ve lived off the money they send me every month. They’re not that bad—at least they remember me once a month on a monetary basis even thought they’ve left me alone.

“I’d get you through this, Andrea. We’d get you through this,” John sobbed. He released me from the hug and cupped my face in his hands. “I… I love you. So much,” he said, his voice shaking. I leaned my head on his, and wiped his tears.

Three years… and then this.

I don’t know for how long I held John in my arms (and for how long we cried), but we stayed that way—wanting somehow for time to just suspend.

 –

I met John at a friend’s party almost four years ago. He was already a basketball star then, and I was pretty much an ordinary girl who had some stints posing for magazines. It was a Trip to Jerusalem game that had me landing literally into his lap, and it was lust at first sight.

Kidding there, mate.

Love at first sight.

I was never a believer of relationships after witnessing my parents’ marriage crumble. I was that girl who got cynical on love, and never had a relationship that lasted longer than six months.

And cheesy and cliché as it may sound, John changed my whole life, changed that view, and loved me.

And I loved him—and still do.

At first it was tough: dealing with his schedule, practices, out-of-town and out-of-country stints, and the girls ogling about and around him. John was the perfect catch: smart, handsome, talented, kind, sweet, loving, and thoughtful. We had some fights over girls, had some over his schedule, and had some over his time. Then I got busy with my studies and organizations that we got used to thirty-minute phone calls a week at one point in time. But we soldiered on, that we did.

And we’re going to wage war on our hardest battle as of yet.

 –

UAAP Men’s basketball Finals—Game Three. Series tied at 1-1.

I sat there, feeling the school spirit in the air even though I wasn’t even from either of the universities that entered the finals. Ateneo’s drums were blaring, while UE’s were on a ceasefire. The crowd was into it—cheering and yelling with all their hearts—and somehow I wished that it was UP instead of UE in the Finals. It doesn’t matter if UP’s going up against John’s team, as long as I get to watch them play.

My three-month (or four) leeway is off—my operation, out of John’s insistence, was scheduled three days after this game.

I breathed deeply. John was a bit emotional before he left my home—our home, I stand corrected—and he told me he’ll win it for me. I just smiled, and hugged him.

The past two months were chaotic but nice. John moved in a week after he witnessed my attack, and his parents agreed. They have always been understanding and supportive—of John, of me and John, of his plans and dreams (which usually include me).

And when John asked me to marry him, they heeded, although John had the harder time convincing me. No, we did not get married just because I am about to die—well, I’m not sounding too hopeful about it, am I? Just realistic—but it is one of the reasons why we actually did get hitched.

And the other reason?

Love. Unconditional and pure love, John would say.

Only his coach, Nelson, and Alex, his close friend and teammate, knew about the marriage—aside from his family, of course.

Nobody knew in my side of the world, not that someone would actually care.

I looked up and saw the clock down to its final ten seconds before game time.

I turned to Maya and John’s parents, and held Maya’s hand, praying that Ateneo would win this.

 –

“And the UAAP season 70 men’s basketball champions… winning 83-80 in overtime… the Ateneo Blue Eagles!”

I cheered, yelled, jumped—the hell with my heart—John won the game. His triple in the Eagles’ last possession—last three seconds of the game—sealed the championship for the Eagles.

Maya hugged me and we were both crying. We laughed at each other’s tear-stained faces. The sea of blue were one with us in celebration, while the red part of the Coliseum seemed awed and shocked at what happened: they were up 1-0 in the best-of-three series and Ateneo had beaten them twice to grab the basketball crown. The floor was filled by “blue” people, the alumni rushing to the floor to congratulate the team, the pep squad egging on the players and the crowd, the photographers and media ogling all over the team.

The crowd fell silent as the court announcer began to announce the Finals MVP. I waited anxiously, my heart pumping hard against my chest. My breath was becoming constricted, but I didn’t mind.

It’s time.

“And our Finals Most Valuable Player is… from your Ateneo Blue Eagles… number 8, John Kevin Tuazon!”

Tears just fell from my eyes as I watched—almost dazed—as John accepted the award from the UAAP official I already forgot the name of. It was the perfect moment, the perfect time. He has the championship, bagging the Finals MVP as a bonus… everything seemed to just fall into place.

He was handed the microphone for his thank-you speech, and when I turned to him, I saw he was crying hard.

“Um, first, thanks to my teammates, coach, and the Ateneo community,” John managed to say, trying to get a grip of his emotions. “For the support and unwavering understanding, I’d like to thank my mom and dad, and also my sister. Thank you very much for standing by me through every decision I’ve made in my life.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw John’s mom smile, and his dad placed an arm on his mom’s shoulder.

“To the Big Guy up there: this won’t be entirely possible if not for you.”

For some weird reason, I was already wiping my tears dry. I’m feeling something—I know my chest was painful, and that I am already having an attack, but I want to hear what John has to say. I have to hear what my husband wants to say.

“And most especially to Andrea,” he choked, his voice cracking. He was looking straight at me through his tears and through the crowd. “This is just one hell of a year for both of us, and the past three or four months were just… chaotic. I know you know how much I love you, and I want you to keep on fighting for me, and for our future, okay? I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know what life is when you’re gone, I… I love you.”

I smiled at him sadly, and I mouthed, “I love you” back. I was gasping for air—I held onto Maya for support. John, worried, handed back the microphone to the official and rushed towards me.

“Andy…”

“Shh, I’m alright,” I told him, but I knew I wasn’t. My weight was already on him; it was my worst attack yet. My eyesight was already blurry, the air was icy but dry in my throat, and my chest was just plainly stoned. The pain was too much that I went numb, and I clung to John.

“Andy, Andy, please,” I heard John say frantically, and somewhere I heard John’s dad call the paramedics who were on standby for the game. My eyelids fluttered.

“I love you, John, and I’m… I’m sorry… if… I can’t… hold on… anymore,” I said slowly and faintly. John managed to lay me on the floor on his lap, almost rocking me in his lap as he tried to fight off the tears.

“No, Andy. You’re staying. Don’t say that,” he said angrily. “You’re staying. We’ll have kids, and raise them and…”

He couldn’t continue anymore.

He held my hand, and held it to his chest. “Andy, feel my heart. If I could I’d give it to you right now. Please, stay with me. You’ll be okay. I need you.”

I tried to stay still and gaze into his eyes. I forced a smile, feeling the life go out of me at every second passing. I tried to squeeze his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

 –

Andrea Monticello-Tuazon.

I have always marveled at how Andy managed to love me despite my flaws and shortcomings, always saw the good in life even though it had always deprived her of something that she deserved (a nice family, that is), always saw the good in people, always been patient, always stayed tough, always been amused at how well she handled life as it came by her—and gone.

The past three years with Andy… it was more than I could ask for.

When the doctor came out of the E.R. to inform me that I have already lost Andy, I couldn’t cry. It was cold, as if… I watched her life past by me. I remembered my conversation with her the day before she went on. She said she wants me to be happy when she dies. She wants me to remember her as that person who had and will always love me, along with the happy memories through the years we’ve shared. She told me that she’d watch me wherever she’d go. I remember getting mad at her for talking like that, but it was as if she felt that she was going to die.

God… Andy.

Why did you have to go so soon?

I love you.

So Much.

*When You’re Gone is the second single released from the album The Best Damn Thing (2007) by Avril Lavigne. She co-wrote the song with Butch Walker, who also produced the track.

No copyright infringement intended for the use of the lyrics of the song.

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 coincidental.

Written by Kessica Tanglao © 2009

Forget About Me*

You said, it wasn’t gonna be like it was before

Then it happened… again

Pushing me back out the door

Thought it would be for real this time

Love me, forget about the signs

So now what do I do?

Now that I know we’re through…

Wish that I could move on

Can’t let go, it’s too strong

Just like that and now you’re gone

Is this how you want it to be?

Everything you had to say

Sent the tears right down my face

Now I’m trying to escape… the misery

Why don’t you love me?

The way I love you

It feels so crazy

Coz I don’t know what I did to you

If you’re gonna hurt me

Then do it quickly

Coz I’m tired of tryin’

If you don’t wanna stick around

Then baby forget about me…

Too late, sorry

I didn’t have the chance

You said you were happy

Baby, I don’t understand

Gave you everything you asked for

And was ready to give you a lot more

I would’ve given you the world

Right in the palm of your hand…

Boy, my heart was true

And that you can’t deny

Don’t be a fool

And walk away from all the lies

It’s up to you

‘Coz heaven knows I’ve tried

Tell me you’re still in love…

Forget about me

I love you…

“If I told you were told that you are going to die in three days, who will you spend your last days with: Robin, Lui, or Evey?”

I stopped at the top of the stairs, just in time to hear Patrick’s question. I knew he was asking Justin, for when I entered Palma Hall Annex (PHAN) I saw Patrick and Justin at the balcony of the college’s third floor. Besides, even if I didn’t see who Patrick was talking to, I’d still know it’s Justin—only Justin has ladies named Robin, Lui, and Evey in his life.

I braced myself for the answer, hiding myself by ducking out of their sight.

“Now? If I am going to die in three days?” I heard Justin ask Patrick back. I imagined Patrick nodding, and I saw Justin contemplating on it in my head.

“Maybe Lui.”

I felt my knees buckle and I had to lean against the wall for support. My tears couldn’t fall—I went so numb at that moment.

“She’s been with me since childhood, man, and she knows… me. You know what I mean? Well, take away the five years we’ve spent together as boyfriend-girlfriend, that is. Evey’s here, yeah, but we’re just… relatively new,” Justin explained, and I could almost see him shrugging. “I love Evey so much—I like her a lot—but Lui. I see Lui as a bigger part of me. At this point in my life.”

Tears now streamed down my face. I wiped them dry with the back of my hand, and silently went down the stairs. I was already at the college lobby—viewable from the third floor balcony—when I heard Patrick say: “That’s Evey. Right?” It came out loudly, for there were only a few people left at PHAN at this hour and it echoed throughout the building.

“EVEY!”

Now that is Justin. I was at the driveway when he called, and I was contemplating on feigning not hearing anything but thought against it. I stopped, waited for Justin to run down three flights of stairs, biting my lip to stop the tears.

“Hey. I didn’t know you’d be here,” he greeted breathlessly. He kissed me on the cheek, and I forced a smile, thinking of a quick way out. “Um, I was just passing by. Thought we could spend a few minutes together before your training, but Lauren called, said Ma’am Ana is looking for me,” I explained, avoiding his gaze. I tapped my foot on the asphalt parking lot.

“You alright, babe?” Justin asked gently, holding me by the chin and making me face him. There was a slight frown on his handsome face. I nodded.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned in to kiss me on the lips, but I turned so the kiss landed on my cheek. The frown on his face deepened.

“I got to go,” I said haphazardly, wanting to move away from Justin at this very moment for I felt a fresh wave of tears coming. I started to walk away, but Justin called me again, ran over, and kissed me on the forehead—lingering a few seconds more than usual.

“I love you, Eve.”

I nodded, and opened my car. Justin waited for me to get inside and slammed the door gently—if there is such—after me. “Drive carefully!” I heard him say through the closed car window, and I zoomed away, completely ignoring what he just said.

I could imagine him shaking his head, a weird smile on his face.

–

“Nervous?”

Justin placed a hand on my thigh and I shrugged. “Not really,” I replied. Actually, I am nervous—meeting his parents was way easier than meeting his childhood friends.

Not to mention his six-year girlfriend-turned-ex.

Oh boy.

He finally found a vacant parking space at the amazingly full Trinoma, and he faced me when his CRV 2007 model was comfortably parked.

“Smile, okay? Peter and Jimmy are suckers for girls with nice and gorgeous smiles,” he teased, and I pouted in response. Justin laughed, reaching out to touch my cheek. “Lighten up, Eve,” he began to say, calling me by his pet name for me, “I’m sure they’ll love you the way you are.” He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead.

I breathed deeply three times.

“Ready?”

I nodded.

–

“TIN!”

“JUSTIN!”

“Hey man!”

I felt Justin’s grip loosen around my hand and finally slipped away as his friends crowded around him as soon as we stepped into Gerry’s Grill. Pats on the back, man hugs, lady hugs, and pecks on the cheek all around. I counted one long table for twenty. One lady, whom I recognized to be Lui, was at the corner, smiling absently as she watched their barkada swarm over Justin.

I started to compare myself to her. On the looks department, she’s probably an 8, and I could be a good 6.5. Height-wise, I’m considerably taller, but we’re both shorter than Justin. My black off-shoulder top is definitely more elegant than her plain blue collared shirt.

I stopped.

But she’s known Justin since they were in diapers—I’ve known him for six weeks.

A hand slid into mine and the warmth told me it was Justin. I smiled and regained my poise, his friends now crowding around me and him. He introduced me to a diverse bunch of people: Ella, Peter, Sean, Jimmy, Jaime, Lucille, Ana, Kaye, Gem, Missy, Rowie, Als and Ads (twins), Margie, Jeff, Andy (and her bf Alex), Rex, Sonny, Myra, and Scott.

PEOPLE OVERLOAD.

The guys greeted me with loose smiles and tight handshakes, while the girls gave quick busses on the cheek.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion when Justin and I reached Lui.

She rose up gracefully, a pearly white smile on her face. Justin hugged her and their gazes were longer than what he shared with the other girls.

An unspoken conversation.

“Lui, this is Evey,” Justin said finally, his arm slithering around my shoulder. Everyone on the table fell silent, and all eyes were on me, Lui, and Justin.

She offered a hand. “Lui, his friend and a past,” she said, winking. “I trust he told you…?”

Lui left the rest of the sentence for me to finish. I accepted her hand and her grip was loose, hand not rough and callused. I smiled. “Yeah. I can fill in the blank with more answers than one,” I replied meaningfully.

She was, after all, Justin’s first kiss, first girlfriend, first date, first crush, “first”…

I can’t compete with that—not that there’s a competition.

She released my hand and motioned towards the table. Justin and I sat at the middle, across Lui and the guy I recalled to be named Jeff. A waiter came and it took time before he was able to take the orders of more than fifteen people, and as soon as he left, conversations erupted.

“Hey guys. Margie has a new boylet!” announced Sean, and the teasing started.

“Hey, he’s NOT new!” Margie defended, and everyone laughed.

“What, is he Justin’s friend?” asked someone from the far end of the table, and Margie turned pink. I saw the reaction in Justin’s face change into amusement, and he said calmly, “You’re dating Pat?”

Margie flushed beet red.

I nearly gaped. I didn’t know Patrick was dating anyone—not that he and I were close.

“Oh boy,” I heard Justin say, and he turned to me. “I introduced them about a month ago, after I met you. I didn’t know Patrick pursued her,” he explained, and I nodded.

“Hey, how’s the project?”

The question was directed to Justin. I frowned. Project?

“Ah, yeah. Lui and I haven’t worked that one out yet,” Justin answered, and then he looked at Lui. “Maybe we can talk about it later?”

Lui nodded.

Missy, my “seatmate,” turned to me and whispered, “A few months ago, we planned an outreach program for the kids at the public school near our subdivision. But then again, something unfortunate happened between Justin and Lui”—she fixed me a meaningful gaze—“so we had to postpone it.”

“Oh” was all I could say.

I drifted in and out of the conversations at the table, my head filling up with names and events and stories that I don’t even know. They were going down the nostalgia road, something that I wasn’t a part of.

I am thinking that saying yes to meeting Justin’s friends this early in the “relationship” is a bad idea.

“You alright?” Justin whispered to my ear, and I nodded. “Yeah,” I whispered, filling in whatever I can’t say and couldn’t say by sipping in my now present iced tea (I didn’t notice that the drinks had arrived).

“Sure?” he asked, and I nodded yet again. He went back to a conversation with Jaime, and I was left there, watching the slice of lemon in my tea float in its loneliness. The girls on my other side were involved in a conversation as well, and it took a few minutes before Lui managed to wiggle out of a talk with Ads and strike one with me.

“So you go to UP as well?” she asked, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally someone to talk to.

“Yes.”

“Graduating, like Justin?”

“Ah, no. I’m only in my junior year.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

She stirred her lemonade and then looked up at me. “How long have you known him?”

“I’ve had this huge crush on him a year before I actually met him,” I explained, and I knew I had a weird smile on my face. “And then I got someone to introduce us, and lo and behold, here I am.”

“You in the same course as him?”

I shook my head. “Taking up Communication Research.”

“Ah, like Robin?”

I wasn’t surprised she knows Justin’s best friend. “Yeah.”

The food arrived, cutting my conversation with Lui short. She’s not that bad or nasty to me as I expected her to be—she’s a good soul, actually.

No wonder her relationship with Justin lasted that long.

Justin placed a fried chicken breast on my plate and I smiled at him. “Thanks,” I said, and he nodded, and I noticed he moved a chicken thigh aside on the big plate and turned the plate around so that it would face Lui. She gave him a small smile, forking the chicken thigh and placing it on her plate.

Wow. Still knows her favorites.

–

After almost two hours of drifting in and out of conversations and engaging in small talks with people I barely know, I finally got fed up.

I tapped Justin, who was in a conversation with Alex now, and told him I’ll go to the restroom. He nodded absently, and I slid off the table, excusing myself.

Desperately need air.

After relieving myself and retouching my makeup, I decided not to head back to Gerry’s Grill—yet—and walked over to the balcony a few feet away from the restaurant. I leaned over the edge and watched the cars at North Avenue and the bumper-to-bumper traffic, and looked up at the stars and wished for me to just disappear on the spot.

“I knew you’d be here.”

I jumped at the sound of Justin’s voice, and he hugged me from behind. “Sorry. Felt dizzy, so I went out,” I explained, and he nodded. I could feel his breath on my neck.

“They liked you,” he whispered, and I smiled bitterly.

“They should,” I said instead, still not facing Justin. He gave me small kisses on my shoulder up to my neck, and then to my cheek. Tickled me a bit, but I didn’t move.

“Not in the mood?” he asked, and I shook my head, sighing heavily.

“There’s so much I still don’t know about you, Justin, and so much you don’t know about me,” I said softly after a while. I felt him smile. “Honey, we’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other. We’ve got the rest of our lives, Evey,” he said in an assuring voice.

Good to note he’s planning to spend the rest of his life with me—as of the moment, that is.

He made me face him. “Lui, as she said, is my past. All that she is for me right now is that she’s a friend, and she’s part of that group of people I grew up with. Eve…” His voice trailed. There was so much more in his eyes that words can’t afford to explain, and I just had to let it go and believe him.

“Maybe we should go back. They’re probably looking for us,” I told him, and was about to leave when he stopped me and kissed me lightly on the lips. I smiled afterwards, and I wiped the gloss off his lips. He gave me a smile—a satisfied smile—and then followed me back to the restaurant.

–

“If you’re proud of me, I’m more proud of you.”

I cussed. Seriously. It was one of those few times that I chanced upon Justin’s website, and there I saw Lui’s comment on his page. It was one of those comments after Justin’s performance—two weeks ago.

I know I have every right to be jealous, but for whatever it’s worth, this not helping.

–

Justin called. He’s looking for u. Wer r u?

That was the fifth message I received from friends—three from my block mates, two from my common friends with Justin. It’s been five hours since I last saw Justin, and his training’s over by this time.

I threw my cell phone onto my bed but did not turn it off. I was at my “home” at Paranaque, and nobody but my parents and Eric knew I was home. He’ll hold off Justin if he goes to Eric’s and my apartment.

“Huge fight?” Eric, my twin brother, asked when I told him I needed to go away. I shook my head, offered no explanations, and started to pack an overnight bag.

“Sis…”

There was worry in my twin’s voice. I looked up at him from the shirt I was packing. “I can’t tell you now. Justin will be out from practice in thirty minutes, and if he figured I am not answering his calls or anyone’s calls or texts—not you, of course—he’ll come here. I have to leave now,” I explained, and Eric stayed silent. He watched me as I finished packing my bag, followed me to the kitchen as I grabbed some finger food for the ride home. He walked with me to the car, and he fished for his wallet and handed me a wad of bills. “Just in case,” he said in an older brother tone of voice. I gave him a sad smile, and hugged him.

“Thanks, Ric.”

“You’re my sister, Evey. TWIN. I’m feeling you, Evey,” he whispered, and patted me on the back. “Let’s get you going, okay?” he said, kissed me on the hair, and then opened the car door for me.

“Thanks, Ric, seriously.”

He winked. “Tell me the juicy story when you return.”

I shook my head and promised myself that I’d treat my brother out as soon as I return—and get my life back.

–

“Eric, please. Tell me where she is.”

Eric could only watch his twin’s now five-month boyfriend as he paced the living room. It was midnight already, but he still dropped by the house, looking so wretched and lost, obviously still no Evey.

“Look, man, I can’t tell you where she is. She only said she needed to go. She didn’t say where,” Eric lied, and Justin placed his head in his hands.

Lying has never felt this bad.

Justin sighed heavily. “I looked for her at her friends’ houses, but she’s not there. Not at school either,” he said, and Eric stayed silent.

“Evey,” Justin continued wearily, “she’d text me where she’ll usually go or if she can’t see me after training for she’ll catch up on some school work. Or she’d drop by training, wait for me and we’ll eat out. Or she’ll be there, hug me or hold me for a moment… just that you know? Just to make me feel she’s there. She’s a biggie on hugging and making me feel… loved. She’s big on little things, Eric. Big on little things. I… I don’t know why I am telling you this, but… I love your sister, Eric. Really love her. Every single bit of her. And it just sucks… why she has to… leave without telling me or just plainly doing this. Better be a very nice explanation for this.”

Justin looked up and Eric saw how hard this entire drama is on Justin. In his eyes he saw the love he knew his sister wanted and deserved, but it still bothered him why Evey had to pull this one off if Justin loved her so much.

“Any idea why she’d run off?” Eric asked lightly.

It was as if a bulb lit up inside Justin’s head for his face brightened, but with the look on Justin’s face, he dismissed the idea as soon as it came.

“No idea.”

“Dude, I’m sorry I can’t help you right now. She’ll be back tomorrow, maybe. For now, go home and rest. Talk to her tomorrow,” Eric told him. Justin stood up, laughed at himself, and looked at Eric. “Thanks, Eric. I’ll see her tomorrow,” he said, and Eric patted him on the shoulder. He walked Justin to the door. “Drive safely, Justin. I want my sister to talk to you tomorrow,” he said, and Justin nodded.

Evey has a really good explaining to do.

–

“Justin’s looking for you like mad.”

I saw Lauren, my block mate and good friend, and nodded. “I know. You’re not the first person to tell me that.” I placed my bag on a seat and turned to her. “He was here. He was at Anthro180, waiting for you to arrive but obviously you didn’t. He made me promise to contact him if you pop up here in class,” Lauren explained. I stayed silent, catching my breath.

I got caught up in traffic back to UP that made me miss my AM classes—and to top it off I woke up relatively late. I arrived at noon, grabbed my stuff at the apartment, and left for classes yet again.

“You told him I’m here now?” I asked, and she shook her head. “You won’t go scram if you don’t have a pretty nice reason for it,” she said in a matter-of-factly tone.

“Thanks.”

She watched me as I took my laptop out of its sleeve and booted it up. I have a report in thirty minutes, and I’ve only rehearsed it in the car this morning and last night after crying and bawling my situation with mom. Tried to keep myself busy just to forget what I heard, and to forget all about Justin for a moment.

“Care to tell me why?” Lauren asked gently, her tone not pushing.

I shook my head, giving her an apologetic look. “I’ll tell you after my report. I need to focus right now. I don’t need to cry,” I said weakly, but I already felt the tears well up inside me. I blinked my eyes, avoiding the tears. “You… did not break up with him, right?” she asked, almost shyly. I let out a dry laugh, and shook my head yet again. “No. He won’t look for me like mad if I did break up with him. He’d probably sulk and drink. That, or he’d run to his childhood friends and ask for a trip to Tagaytay,” I said sadly, remembering how Justin would always sought refuge in out-of-towners when he’s depressed.

She asked me if I already had lunch, elicited another shake of the head, and we went for the canteen, leaving our things with block mate, Colbie. “You just have to figure out a way to get by that… no matter what you do, no matter how much you love a person, they would never seem to love you back that much. It’s not enough for them to choose you in the end,” I told her, and she eyed me mysteriously. She decided not to ask questions, and at the canteen, I thought I saw Pam and Geric—two of Justin’s friends.

Or were my eyes fooling me?

–

“He’s outside.”

The gloom in Lauren’s face told me that “he” is Justin. “Pacing?” I asked, and Lauren nodded. At her seat near the door I saw Robin eyeing me, and I knew it was one of two things: Pam or Geric told Justin that I am here, or it was his best friend Robin who did the honors. Either way, Justin found out that I went to class.

Pacing is one thing that Justin does when he’s tense or nervous—or even worried.

“You can’t really avoid him, Evey.”

I gave her an assuring smile. “See you tomorrow,” I told her, and headed out of the classroom, my laptop bag and tote bag in tow. When I emerged from the room, Justin looked up expectantly from the bench at the Film lobby, and when he saw me his face lit up. He quickly approached me, and in the most intense of emotions, he hugged me tightly.

“God, Evey, do NOT do that EVER again,” he whispered, and he kissed me on the hair. I couldn’t react, and I didn’t have the effort to hug him back. I guess he noticed my lack of reaction, for he released me from the hug and looked at me. He helped me with the bags, taking the tote bag from me. “I want to get mad at you for just leaving like that, but I’m more relieved that you’re safe… and you’re here,” he said cheerily, and I said nothing.

Justin reached out and touched my cheek, and I still couldn’t look at him.

“Justin, we need to talk.”

I shivered at the coldness of my own voice.

“That is never nice, but I’d take that. That’s better than you just leaving,” he said weakly, frowning. I nodded off to the parking lot and he followed me, tension now filling the air. We reached my car, and Justin turned to me. “I’ll take us to where we’ll talk, then I’ll bring you back here in the time for your training,” I said robotically, and opened the driver’s side of the car. He walked over to the other side and popped open his door. He placed my things at the backseat.

He stopped.

“Evey,” he said, eyeing me intently, “you’re not breaking up with me, are you?”

I paused, held his smoldering gaze, and shook my head. “I don’t think so. I hope not.”

He sighed. “Not necessarily the answer I would’ve wanted, but I’d take it either way.” I revved up the car, and endured the fifteen-minute tension-filled, silent car ride to Justin’s and my secret place.

“Evey—”

“I will talk, you listen. When I shut up, you talk, and then I will listen,” I cut in, and he stayed silent. He was sitting against the hood of my car, and I was facing him, a few feet away from the edge of the grass. He watched me, and then nodded slowly.

“Yesterday, I heard you and Patrick,” I began to say, and then paused for Justin cussed. He was about to protest when I silenced him with a wave of my hand. “He asked you if you’ll die in three days, who do you spend it with. You said Lui, coz she’s been there with you since childhood and she’s a bigger part of you. You said you love me, but Lui’s still that bigger part of you.”

He rubbed his face with his hands as if washing it under running water. He was weary, and that was what he’s supposed to be feeling. I was angry, but I couldn’t get myself to shout or rage at him. I turned away and looked at the horizon, so lively and so white. The sun was almost setting, creating a yellowish orange effect.

So romantic.

I tried to remember how many sunsets Justin and I watched.

I can’t.

“I was half-wishing, half-hoping that you’d say my name. Say that you’ll spend the last three days with me. But then again you didn’t. And my world fell. It just… broke my heart, Justin. Just frigging broke my heart. I was there, thinking, ‘He’s my boyfriend, and yet he chose another woman.’ It’s always like that, huh? I never get chosen by the ones I love. It’s like no matter what I do, I can never ever take her place in your heart. No matter how much I show you and make you feel how much I love you, it won’t matter, coz it’s still her.” I brushed away the tears that streamed from my eyes. I felt him walk over to me, and he hugged me.

I cried harder.

“I don’t know how to… I love you, Evey, and you know that. I know you feel that,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

I calmed down and breathed deeply. When I removed his arms around me and I faced him, I saw tears streaming down his face. “You were being true to yourself, and to what you feel. Can’t change that,” I said, and started for the car. He stopped me by the arm. “I’m talking, you listen this time,” he said, and he dried his tears with his hand.

I stayed put but nevertheless listened.

“At that moment, saying Lui seemed like the most right thing to do. But now… I know it was so careless. I don’t… Evey, I love you. Just that. And I want you to know I appreciate you so much. I can’t offer a really fantastic and rational explanation why I chose her, but Evey… just please. Don’t give up on me. Please.”

“Do you still love her?”

“She’s my friend and I’ve spent so much time with her—”

“Do you still love her, Justin?”

A pause. “I don’t know.”

I sniffed, and motioned towards the car. “We’ve got twenty-five minutes to get you to training. Let’s go,” I said instead, and he unwillingly boarded the car.

Yet another silent car ride back to campus.

–

“Why don’t I see Justin around you?”

I turned and saw Robin. She approached me at the CMC parking lot, and I closed the door of my car, heaving a sigh while I was at it. I was about to leave early to pick Eric up for a bonding moment—was supposed to treat him at Gumbo for doing me a favor of holding off Justin—but then again figured I had to get this over with.

“Some unspoken agreement,” I said simply, and she frowned.

“Are you guys—did you guys break up already?”

The hesitation in her voice made me frown. She didn’t know?

“Justin didn’t tell you anything? He didn’t tell you about ‘it’?” I asked back. She shook her head. “On that part, he didn’t. He told me what you heard, but other than that, nada,” she replied, and I motioned her over to the empty bench at the parking lot. We sat there, the leaves of the tree that was providing us shade danced in the afternoon breeze.

I breathed deeply. “We didn’t break up, Rob. Something just… happened unexpectedly,” I told her quietly, and she nodded for me to continue. I narrated my abridged version of my talk with Justin. Robin was silent at the end of it, and then she shook her head.

“Lui and Justin have known each other practically since they were in their mom’s wombs,” she began to say, and I didn’t react. “And you should know their history.”

Yup, I know Lui and Justin had a relationship, and they’re friends now. Five years of relationship. She was the one before me, and the ONLY one. The one Justin loved before I happened in his life.

And they didn’t exactly break up; it was some sort of “unspoken agreement” to just stop seeing each other.

Guess that’s where it all starts, right?

“I just didn’t know what hurt more: the fact that he didn’t choose me, or the fact that I feel he still loves Lui because he chose her,” I said, my voice weak. I looked away, and watched as Geric pull up his car at the curb, and he waved at us when he got down the car. He pointed to his wristwatch, and I figured he was running late. I gave him a forced smile.

He ran into the college.

“They weren’t exactly finished when I came into his life, Rob,” I pointed out. Tears started to form in my eyes, and I am angry at myself for having to go through this again. I didn’t want to cry—hell, I wanted to stop crying—but telling Robin all over again made it seem worse.

Justin and I haven’t seen each other for almost a week. Note: SEEN. He called me on the phone a number of times, to check if I am still alive, and we would text everyday, to inform each other of what’s going on in each other’s lives.

No I love you’s or whatever, though.

“If you guys didn’t break up, why are you guys not seeing each other?” she pointed out, and I sighed yet again.

“Told you it’s an unspoken agreement. He thinks about what he feels, and I… heal, I guess.” A shrug. Robin brushed a leaf that fell on her shoulder, and then turned to me.

“What do you feel towards him?” she asked, a hint of something not nice in her voice. I decided to act as if I didn’t notice it.

“It’s not like loving him would go away that easily,” I said impatiently. “I love him, and I won’t give up on him. You know how long I’ve waited for him.”

Robin surveyed me with scrutiny, and decided I was serious. “He and Lui talked yesterday,” she said gravely.

Nothing shocks me at this point, so I kept a blank face. “And then…?”

“He wasn’t really keen on giving me the details. He just said they talked—or that he needed to talk to Lui.”

I nodded, feeling a fresh wave of tears coming to me. I stood up, and gave her a sad smile. “Like Nelly Furtado sang, ‘all good things come to an end.’” I shrugged yet again, and then gave her a beso. “I have to go. Have to meet twin bro.”

She stopped me by the arm. “Justin loves you, much, and I can see that. Feel it even. Don’t give up on him. He’s just… confused, I guess. Or I hope.” I nodded, feeling my chest tighten. My cell phone began to vibrate and I just knew it was Eric.

Robin released my arm and I winked at her. “We’ll be alright. Soon,” I replied, obviously unsure of myself. She let me go and I headed for my car, tears finally falling when I got in.

*Forget About Me is a song by Lil Bit produced by Ne-Yo released last 2008. Lyrics of the song do not belong to me.