(UNTITLED)
Entry No. 6
X
I would never forget that afternoon. We had the grandest time. We went to every store that perked our curiosity. Acting as if genuinely interested, we’d ask the salesclerk a litany of questions then get out with brochures at hand. We ate ice cream, read a few good comic books at the bookstore, and had a long walk.
We also went to the same park we were before. We held hands like it was the natural thing to do. We talked, we played, and we watched couples become extra sweet, much to our amusement.
After eating a quick dinner, we knew we were both exhausted. Coming back late at the boarding house, she excused herself and said she was ready to sleep.
I knew it was a crazy idea but that was the time when I woke up in the middle of the night. I went to her room and found her sleeping like a child. I silently approached her. I sate beside her bed, looking straight at her pretty face. I didn’t care whether she’d go angry or not. What I knew was that I had to let this feeling out.
I thanked her for the kindness she had shown me. In audible whispers, I told her that I wish I were born on a different circumstance so she’d find in her heart to more than just like me. I was so sorry. Damn sorry for not being able to help her.
But what pained me more was the idea that I must let her go. Like a child letting go of his first blanket, I was afraid. Why does love have to come in painful packages? I knew she’d never be mine. With school finally over, I may never see her again. With that thought, tears welled up on my eyes. Before she could hear me sob, I ran back to my room.
XI
Before the sun had risen, I already had my things packed. As I was about to leave the apartment, I could hear Mina crying inside her room. I decided to see what’s going on.
“Mina, I thought about what you said about my family and stuff. I’ve decided to go home.”
She tried to wipe the tears away from her face. I came near her and we embraced like old friends do.
“Hey, everything’s gonna be alright,” I said.
She was sobbing so hard that my shoulder felt wet. After a few minutes, she managed to smile.
“So, you’re leaving. That’s good. Your parents may already be worried sick.”
“Are you sure you can manage?”
“Of course I can, kid,” she was trying to laugh.
“Well, thanks for everything.”
As I stood up, she dried her tears away and led me to the door. She gave me one last hug and kissed my forehead.
“Be good kid. I’ll miss you.”
With that, I turned to leave.
Mar 18, 2003
Mar 17, 2003
(UNTITLED)
Entry No. 5
IX
On the second morning I was staying with Mina, I saw her walk out of the room with only a loose T-shirt and panties on. But that’s beside the point.
We had a breakfast of instant noodles and settled down at the couch on the sala to watch a movie.
The day before, she was so busy with some papers so I stayed at my room trying to keep myself busy by reading. Her studies would be complete after she passed her term paper. The only time we were together was when we had to go out for dinner, which was actually our lunch.
After putting on the betamax, she placed herself beside me. After a few minutes, she settled down on my lap as if it was a pillow. I sorely wished she wouldn’t hear my heartbeat. I felt it was going to explode. It was only in the middle of the film that we started talking.
“Have you decided yet?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve been thinking.”
“Don’t you want to call your parents? They might be worried sick.”
“I’ll do that, tomorrow.”
“Believe me, you don’t really hate them. It’s just the things they do.”
It made me silent. I agree with her. It’s just that I don’t want to show it.
A few minutes later, she then said, “I also ran away from home. But that was a long time ago.”
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story. I thought I had enough,” she cut her sentence. “Have you ever wondered what would happen if we could come back in time to correct all the mistakes we made?”
“No, I haven’t thought of that.”
“Tell me what you think.”
I pondered on the question then finally answered, “I don’t think we’d be happier then as we are now.”
“How come?”
“Because,” I was at loss for words. “Because that’s not the way things are.”
She was not looking at me nor at the television. “Maybe mistakes has a purpose. Not just to learn from them, but maybe to make us complete.”
“Have you ever wanted to go back in time to correct your mistakes?” I said.
“More than a thousand times.”
An awkward pause. She continued with another question.
“Have you ever thought that there’s always a purpose in life? That maybe the stars are really people confused with their own existence?”
What was I to say? Instead, I said, “Is there something you want to tell me? A story perhaps.”
She then stood up and took a cigarette from the table. She straightened herself from the couch and took deep puffs. Looking at the ashtray, she poured her heart out.
“I once fell in love with a man older than I am. I was seventeen and he was forty-one. Well, at least I thought it was love. Maybe it was my youth. It was more than the physical attraction that bowled me over. I guess it was the thought of actually being special.”
I could tell that she was trying to act with composure. That everything was fine. She continued.
“Well, he has a family of his own. For a while, I believed things would work out but it never did. I ran away from home. He works abroad and has tons of money. Maybe out of pity, he sheltered me on this prison cell. That’s why I study hard. I need to graduate so I could start all over.”
“Why don’t you come back home?”
“My parents won’t accept me. We are poor. Poverty is our way of life. And, you know how traditions are when it comes to having sired a child unwed.”
I did not know what to say.
“I also have a child. They don’t have a kid so my daughter’s with them. I could not possibly support her so I agreed with the arrangement.”
She then lighted another cigarette and brushed my hair with her hands.
“Hey, don’t fret. I have things under control and I do have a plan,” she was half-smiling. She then wrapped her arms around me.
“My tears ran dry a long time ago,” she said.
It was around noon. Though she was shaking, she managed to invite me out.
Entry No. 5
IX
On the second morning I was staying with Mina, I saw her walk out of the room with only a loose T-shirt and panties on. But that’s beside the point.
We had a breakfast of instant noodles and settled down at the couch on the sala to watch a movie.
The day before, she was so busy with some papers so I stayed at my room trying to keep myself busy by reading. Her studies would be complete after she passed her term paper. The only time we were together was when we had to go out for dinner, which was actually our lunch.
After putting on the betamax, she placed herself beside me. After a few minutes, she settled down on my lap as if it was a pillow. I sorely wished she wouldn’t hear my heartbeat. I felt it was going to explode. It was only in the middle of the film that we started talking.
“Have you decided yet?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve been thinking.”
“Don’t you want to call your parents? They might be worried sick.”
“I’ll do that, tomorrow.”
“Believe me, you don’t really hate them. It’s just the things they do.”
It made me silent. I agree with her. It’s just that I don’t want to show it.
A few minutes later, she then said, “I also ran away from home. But that was a long time ago.”
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story. I thought I had enough,” she cut her sentence. “Have you ever wondered what would happen if we could come back in time to correct all the mistakes we made?”
“No, I haven’t thought of that.”
“Tell me what you think.”
I pondered on the question then finally answered, “I don’t think we’d be happier then as we are now.”
“How come?”
“Because,” I was at loss for words. “Because that’s not the way things are.”
She was not looking at me nor at the television. “Maybe mistakes has a purpose. Not just to learn from them, but maybe to make us complete.”
“Have you ever wanted to go back in time to correct your mistakes?” I said.
“More than a thousand times.”
An awkward pause. She continued with another question.
“Have you ever thought that there’s always a purpose in life? That maybe the stars are really people confused with their own existence?”
What was I to say? Instead, I said, “Is there something you want to tell me? A story perhaps.”
She then stood up and took a cigarette from the table. She straightened herself from the couch and took deep puffs. Looking at the ashtray, she poured her heart out.
“I once fell in love with a man older than I am. I was seventeen and he was forty-one. Well, at least I thought it was love. Maybe it was my youth. It was more than the physical attraction that bowled me over. I guess it was the thought of actually being special.”
I could tell that she was trying to act with composure. That everything was fine. She continued.
“Well, he has a family of his own. For a while, I believed things would work out but it never did. I ran away from home. He works abroad and has tons of money. Maybe out of pity, he sheltered me on this prison cell. That’s why I study hard. I need to graduate so I could start all over.”
“Why don’t you come back home?”
“My parents won’t accept me. We are poor. Poverty is our way of life. And, you know how traditions are when it comes to having sired a child unwed.”
I did not know what to say.
“I also have a child. They don’t have a kid so my daughter’s with them. I could not possibly support her so I agreed with the arrangement.”
She then lighted another cigarette and brushed my hair with her hands.
“Hey, don’t fret. I have things under control and I do have a plan,” she was half-smiling. She then wrapped her arms around me.
“My tears ran dry a long time ago,” she said.
It was around noon. Though she was shaking, she managed to invite me out.
Mar 16, 2003
(UNTITLED)
Entry No. 4
VIII
Things were not looking up at home when school was over. Mom and dad started to have fights for reasons they won’t tell. As much as possible, they don’t want us to see them quarreling but my sister and I could hear the entire racket from our rooms. In the middle of the night, I could hear glasses and plates being thrown and all.
That was the time I decided to run away. I never pondered on where I should go. Hastily packing-up some clothes on my bag, I stealthily walked out of the house while my mom and dad were fighting.
I walked for about a mile not really knowing where to go. My entire savings amounted to only two weeks of allowance and I was getting tired and hungry. Reaching the road that leads to my school, I saw Mina buying softdrink at a store. I told her that I ran away from home. She offered her place. She said her boardmates were all home and she has the whole place for herself for a week.
Thought it was about midnight. After putting my things on her apartment, we went to the park to talk. Somehow, I felt relieved by just being close to her. I forgot for a moment the problems I was having at home.
We talked about my family. She gave me advises and agreed that maybe it’s only right for me to run-away to let my parents know how I feel about the whole thing. I simply adore her. After all the things I did, she’s still the same person I knew.
“Louie,” she said while looking at the stars. “Tell me your thoughts about the countless stars staring at us right now.”
“Stars don’t have eyes,” I laughed.
Not being a wisecrack she normally was, she only smiled. “Someday, you’ll find a star you could call your own. And all the other stars won’t matter.”
“What if I tell you I may already have found it.”
I was nervous. I felt my pulse rising. She opened her mouth and I held my breath.
“Come one, let’s buy some snacks and some cigarettes on the way home.”
She never mentioned anything about what I said. After eating the snacks we bought, she led me to a vacant room and kissed my cheek to say goodnight. I lay in bed thinking about my family, about Mina, about myself, my diary, and about the stars and what she said about it.
Entry No. 4
VIII
Things were not looking up at home when school was over. Mom and dad started to have fights for reasons they won’t tell. As much as possible, they don’t want us to see them quarreling but my sister and I could hear the entire racket from our rooms. In the middle of the night, I could hear glasses and plates being thrown and all.
That was the time I decided to run away. I never pondered on where I should go. Hastily packing-up some clothes on my bag, I stealthily walked out of the house while my mom and dad were fighting.
I walked for about a mile not really knowing where to go. My entire savings amounted to only two weeks of allowance and I was getting tired and hungry. Reaching the road that leads to my school, I saw Mina buying softdrink at a store. I told her that I ran away from home. She offered her place. She said her boardmates were all home and she has the whole place for herself for a week.
Thought it was about midnight. After putting my things on her apartment, we went to the park to talk. Somehow, I felt relieved by just being close to her. I forgot for a moment the problems I was having at home.
We talked about my family. She gave me advises and agreed that maybe it’s only right for me to run-away to let my parents know how I feel about the whole thing. I simply adore her. After all the things I did, she’s still the same person I knew.
“Louie,” she said while looking at the stars. “Tell me your thoughts about the countless stars staring at us right now.”
“Stars don’t have eyes,” I laughed.
Not being a wisecrack she normally was, she only smiled. “Someday, you’ll find a star you could call your own. And all the other stars won’t matter.”
“What if I tell you I may already have found it.”
I was nervous. I felt my pulse rising. She opened her mouth and I held my breath.
“Come one, let’s buy some snacks and some cigarettes on the way home.”
She never mentioned anything about what I said. After eating the snacks we bought, she led me to a vacant room and kissed my cheek to say goodnight. I lay in bed thinking about my family, about Mina, about myself, my diary, and about the stars and what she said about it.
Mar 15, 2003
(UNTITLED)
Entry No. 3
VI
I asked my mother if she ever read what was inside my great grandfather’s diary. Tucked inside an antique cabinet, it is not that hard to take away the bundles of rope that served as the journal’s lock. She said no and reasoned that that was the specific instruction of her mother. She then went on lecturing about the virtues of keeping a promise. She implied that she was given trust to take care of these family treasures and she does not intend to break the tradition. Indeed, volumes of diaries were safely gathered at our cabinet. The oldest of which was the diary of my mother’s great grandfather.
What I thought was an easy task turned out to be a grueling labor. After exhausting my thoughts on the lists that I could write, I started to scribble whatever it is I felt at that moment. From the entries one would see curses, and mostly the word ‘boring’ repeated more than a hundred times. There were even entries of incomprehensible words done by mixing up the letters of the alphabet.
I listed down the alphabet from A to Z, then Z to A. I had about five entries of that. I would often tell myself how I hated that task. I felt trapped by a tradition whose real value I don’t understand.
VII
Mina was not that pretty but she’s not that ugly either. I really don’t know what transformation came over me but it prompted something inside urging me to imply what I feel. I never listened to love songs, but suddenly, Barry Manilow started to sound cool. As ever man is supposed to act everytime they felt what I felt, I did all that. I gave her flowers. I tried as much as possible to see her everyday.
“Hey,” she said one day. “What’s that behind your back?”
“Oh, this,” and I laid out a book. “My mother reads this kind of stuff. Thought you might like it.”
It was a Mills and Boone pocketbook I bought at a discounted bookstore. I gave it to her.
“That’s sweet,” she said as she received it. “I’ll try to read it.”
“Mina,” I paused. “There’s a note inside you might want to read.”
“Oh,” she leafed through the pages and found my note written on a stationary I took from my sister’s collection. She browsed through the letter and smiled.
“Know what,” she winked. “With more practice, I bet you can become a great letter writer.”
With that, she took off by saying she has some catching up to do.
That incident gave me the courage to give her the ring wrapped around the petals of a rose, the very first poem I made for a girl, and those little things I never knew I could do. I told her it’s all about the friendship she gave me. Setting aside courage, I needed bravery to tell her my true feelings.
All in all, her reactions were all the same. She just said thank you. I didn’t mind. I was happy with that. I knew she liked me. It’s just that something, just something deep inside, is also telling me I wanted her to more than just like me.
Entry No. 3
VI
I asked my mother if she ever read what was inside my great grandfather’s diary. Tucked inside an antique cabinet, it is not that hard to take away the bundles of rope that served as the journal’s lock. She said no and reasoned that that was the specific instruction of her mother. She then went on lecturing about the virtues of keeping a promise. She implied that she was given trust to take care of these family treasures and she does not intend to break the tradition. Indeed, volumes of diaries were safely gathered at our cabinet. The oldest of which was the diary of my mother’s great grandfather.
What I thought was an easy task turned out to be a grueling labor. After exhausting my thoughts on the lists that I could write, I started to scribble whatever it is I felt at that moment. From the entries one would see curses, and mostly the word ‘boring’ repeated more than a hundred times. There were even entries of incomprehensible words done by mixing up the letters of the alphabet.
I listed down the alphabet from A to Z, then Z to A. I had about five entries of that. I would often tell myself how I hated that task. I felt trapped by a tradition whose real value I don’t understand.
VII
Mina was not that pretty but she’s not that ugly either. I really don’t know what transformation came over me but it prompted something inside urging me to imply what I feel. I never listened to love songs, but suddenly, Barry Manilow started to sound cool. As ever man is supposed to act everytime they felt what I felt, I did all that. I gave her flowers. I tried as much as possible to see her everyday.
“Hey,” she said one day. “What’s that behind your back?”
“Oh, this,” and I laid out a book. “My mother reads this kind of stuff. Thought you might like it.”
It was a Mills and Boone pocketbook I bought at a discounted bookstore. I gave it to her.
“That’s sweet,” she said as she received it. “I’ll try to read it.”
“Mina,” I paused. “There’s a note inside you might want to read.”
“Oh,” she leafed through the pages and found my note written on a stationary I took from my sister’s collection. She browsed through the letter and smiled.
“Know what,” she winked. “With more practice, I bet you can become a great letter writer.”
With that, she took off by saying she has some catching up to do.
That incident gave me the courage to give her the ring wrapped around the petals of a rose, the very first poem I made for a girl, and those little things I never knew I could do. I told her it’s all about the friendship she gave me. Setting aside courage, I needed bravery to tell her my true feelings.
All in all, her reactions were all the same. She just said thank you. I didn’t mind. I was happy with that. I knew she liked me. It’s just that something, just something deep inside, is also telling me I wanted her to more than just like me.
Mar 14, 2003
(UNTITLED)
Entry No. 2
IV
My sister started writing on her diary when she was just ten years old. We never talk much, her being older than I am by three years. By the time I was old enough to be influenced by computer games and video arcades, my mother saw it as an opportunity for her to finally persuade me to start a journal of my own. I complied, thinking I could outsmart her by scribbling nonsense on every page of my little notebook.
After she bought me my PC, I would proudly wave at her the page where I scribbled nonsense on my diary. Sort of telling her that I’m doing my part of the bargain. As I’ve said earlier, no one among us reads another family member’s journal. That was a golden rule. My mom would smile. I would laugh hysterically at the back of my mind thinking that I outsmarted her.
At first, it seemed like an easy task. I started writing down all the animals I could think of. That was entry number one to entry number five. Then, I listed down in a letter-like fashion all the elements in the periodic table until I fill up a page. That was entry number six to entry number eleven. There were times when I would just sing a song and write the lyrics down. I figured that after two years, my mom would no longer need to be assured that I write on my diary.
Sample: August 24, 1989 (Entry No. 1)
Dear Diary,
Ants antelope armadillo anteater bear butterfly bat bird bobcat cat camel caterpillar catfish carrion candor dog duck deer dragonfly dogfish eagle elephant eel earthworm falcon fish flying fish fox, etc., etc., etc., . . and so on, and so on. . . .
V
“Hey lighter guy,” she said. “I never thought I’d see you here. What’s up?”
I flashed a smile.
“Aren’t you gonna speak up?”
“Oh, nothing much,” I answered.
“Want a smoke?” she was teasing.
“Sure. But not here. The guards might see us.”
“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll treat you to a sundae, ok.”
“Alright.”
We went outside the campus and went straight to where the college guys hangout. I was waiting for her to buy me a cigarette but she did not. Not knowing how to start a conversation, I just sat there, mixing all the stuff on my sundae. She stared at me for awhile as I was about to say something. I just closed my mouth.
“Aren’t you going to say something? I mean, hello! Do I have bad breath or something?” her eyes were wide open and I managed to smile.
“What do you want me to ask you?”
“Well, anything. Normal people are supposed to get acquainted, aren’t they?”
“Okay,” I said, smiling. “What is it again that you want me to ask you?”
She opened her mouth in disbelief.
“You are weird, aren’t you?”
Even before she was able to finish that sentence, I murmured.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“What?” she shot back. “Okay, okay. Let’s just eat.”
She concentrated on finishing her sundae.
“You really love ice cream, don’t you?” I asked.
“You really are weird, aren’t you?”
One could tell that we were having a good time.
“Well, weirdness is - ” but before I could finish my sentence, she continued.
“Well, I like weird guys. The last time I met someone like that was. . . .” she did not finish her sentence. There was an awkward pause.
“I have a question. Why do you want to hang-out with me?”
She looked at me, as if trying to answer my question in silence. “Well. . . . you look nice and. . .”
“And?”
“And. . . you look like my brother.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll race you towards school.” With that, she sprung from her feet and ran towards the gate. I followed her though my bag was being a nuisance. I almost fell.
I looked at my watch. It was almost five.
“Bye,” she said. Then she gave me a light kiss on the cheek. She then ran away.
“Hey,” I yelled.
But she was gone. I brushed my hand on the side of the cheek where she kissed it. I bought my first cigarette that day.
Entry No. 2
IV
My sister started writing on her diary when she was just ten years old. We never talk much, her being older than I am by three years. By the time I was old enough to be influenced by computer games and video arcades, my mother saw it as an opportunity for her to finally persuade me to start a journal of my own. I complied, thinking I could outsmart her by scribbling nonsense on every page of my little notebook.
After she bought me my PC, I would proudly wave at her the page where I scribbled nonsense on my diary. Sort of telling her that I’m doing my part of the bargain. As I’ve said earlier, no one among us reads another family member’s journal. That was a golden rule. My mom would smile. I would laugh hysterically at the back of my mind thinking that I outsmarted her.
At first, it seemed like an easy task. I started writing down all the animals I could think of. That was entry number one to entry number five. Then, I listed down in a letter-like fashion all the elements in the periodic table until I fill up a page. That was entry number six to entry number eleven. There were times when I would just sing a song and write the lyrics down. I figured that after two years, my mom would no longer need to be assured that I write on my diary.
Sample: August 24, 1989 (Entry No. 1)
Dear Diary,
Ants antelope armadillo anteater bear butterfly bat bird bobcat cat camel caterpillar catfish carrion candor dog duck deer dragonfly dogfish eagle elephant eel earthworm falcon fish flying fish fox, etc., etc., etc., . . and so on, and so on. . . .
V
“Hey lighter guy,” she said. “I never thought I’d see you here. What’s up?”
I flashed a smile.
“Aren’t you gonna speak up?”
“Oh, nothing much,” I answered.
“Want a smoke?” she was teasing.
“Sure. But not here. The guards might see us.”
“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll treat you to a sundae, ok.”
“Alright.”
We went outside the campus and went straight to where the college guys hangout. I was waiting for her to buy me a cigarette but she did not. Not knowing how to start a conversation, I just sat there, mixing all the stuff on my sundae. She stared at me for awhile as I was about to say something. I just closed my mouth.
“Aren’t you going to say something? I mean, hello! Do I have bad breath or something?” her eyes were wide open and I managed to smile.
“What do you want me to ask you?”
“Well, anything. Normal people are supposed to get acquainted, aren’t they?”
“Okay,” I said, smiling. “What is it again that you want me to ask you?”
She opened her mouth in disbelief.
“You are weird, aren’t you?”
Even before she was able to finish that sentence, I murmured.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“What?” she shot back. “Okay, okay. Let’s just eat.”
She concentrated on finishing her sundae.
“You really love ice cream, don’t you?” I asked.
“You really are weird, aren’t you?”
One could tell that we were having a good time.
“Well, weirdness is - ” but before I could finish my sentence, she continued.
“Well, I like weird guys. The last time I met someone like that was. . . .” she did not finish her sentence. There was an awkward pause.
“I have a question. Why do you want to hang-out with me?”
She looked at me, as if trying to answer my question in silence. “Well. . . . you look nice and. . .”
“And?”
“And. . . you look like my brother.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll race you towards school.” With that, she sprung from her feet and ran towards the gate. I followed her though my bag was being a nuisance. I almost fell.
I looked at my watch. It was almost five.
“Bye,” she said. Then she gave me a light kiss on the cheek. She then ran away.
“Hey,” I yelled.
But she was gone. I brushed my hand on the side of the cheek where she kissed it. I bought my first cigarette that day.
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