the long, lonely train ride home

hong kong
december thirty one, two hours before new year's eve

the phone rang as i was about to step out of my flat. it was a dreary winter night, and the wind was biting cold. i was cold even if i was already wearing a thick outer jacket over cashmere sweater and a scarf. i did not expect that you would call. i was already on my way to meet up with you at our favourite restaurant where we planned to spend the new year's eve with some of our friends who preferred to stay in the city instead of going out of town for the holidays.
once outside, i answered the phone.
"what's up?" i said happily, my other hand tucked safely inside one of the side pockets of my jacket to keep it warm. i was walking briskly, imagining that you were wearing the blue ralph lauren sweatshirt that i gave you as a christmas present while you were driving your car on the way to central.
but your "hello" did not sound cheerful at all. i was alarmed. i knew that tone of voice. i already braced myself for some bad news. i stopped and sat at the stairs outside of a building that was already closed for the night.
"sorry i can't make it tonight," you said sullenly. for a while i thought somebody died. it was close. "my father had a heart attack right after dinner and we are now in the hospital."
"what happened?" i said, disappointed. i had big plans for tonight. this was our first new year's eve together and i spent the last three weeks preparing for it -- booking a table at the french restaurant where we first met, planning my outfit, thinking about your gift, choosing the wine that would go with the food, looking for a party that we could go to after our late dinner. unfortunately, i didn't have a plan b.
"i'll tell you all about it once i see you, ok? right now, i am in the hospital with my family."
"ok. take care then."
"you too." then before you hang up, you said: "in case i won't be able to call you later, happy new year.  i am sorry for this."
"it's alright," i said, even if it was not. but what can i do? it's an emergency. "happy new year too."
i wanted to go back to my flat and spend the new year's eve by myself. but that would be too depressing. i was afraid i might do something stupid like taking a lot of sleeping pills. i would feel safer in a crowd. i knew that being with people won't lessen the sadness, but at least it would distract me.

((((((((((((((((((((((

a quarter before midnight. i was seated alone, drinking stella artois, at the staunton bar in soho. it was packed with people that there was hardly a space to walk or even breathe.  the crowd spilled out into the street even if it was drizzling. some were dancing, others were kissing, while some were simply huddled in a group, probably talking about what was waiting for the global economy in the coming year as the european financial crisis worsened. the entire staunton street was closed for the new year's eve revelry. policemen were all over the place to man the streets and manage the crowd.
five minutes before twelve, fireworks started exploding into the air, drowning the music, the laughers, the loud conversations. everybody erupted into a loud "happy new year!" except me.
i loathe new year because a few days after, it would be my birthday. i dread my birthday. mostly because i  resent all the attention, all the fuss about you just because it's your birthday. i don't like the feeling of being special, of being on the spotlight. also,  my birthday brings back bad memories. it was my birthday when my older brother died. since then, a gloom would envelope me as january three approaches. i thought that by spending it with you tonight, i would feel different about new year's eve. about my birthday. that i would start loving it from now on. but spending it alone, unexpectedly, in this overcrowded bar made it even worse.
the fact that everyone was joyful, intoxicated, laughing, singing, dancing as though it was their last day on earth made me feel even more alone. sadder.
luckily, i saw your friends -- twenty something celine and her best friends, sandy and danielle, and their boyfriends whose names i wasn't able to catch because of the noise. it doesn't matter anyway. i am a face person. i easily remember the face, but not the name. among them, it was celine whom i liked. cheerful, dark-skinned, petite. skinny. she was beautiful like everyone else in this town, but her cheerful attitude and the overall positive vibes that she gave out to everyone she met made her stand out. she always made the gloomy, sad me smile.
that night she was wearing a red, strapless lanvin dress that i helped her pick several days ago when we went shopping together, i looking for a gift for you and she a dress to wear during the new year's eve party, even if it was cold (she left her winter coat and scarf at the bar). very sexy, very short. exposing her healthy cleavage and well-toned legs. pointy stilettos and a clutch completed the outfit.
"where's pierre?" celine asked, offering me a glass of champagne that i accepted gratefully.
"in the hospital. his father had a heart attack."
celine became quiet. she looked confused.
"what's wrong?" i asked, sensing the sudden change in her mood.
"nothing. i just remembered something." she said. then she raised her glass and offered a toast. "happy new year dahlin!"
"happy new year sweetie," i said, kissing her on both cheeks. i lingered for a bit on her soft, tanned neck where a few strands of hair rested because i loved the scent of channel number five, mixed with the smell of cigarettes and sweat, on her.
lovely smell or not, i knew she was lying.
"want to dance?" she asked.
"where?"
"on the street."
"alright."
dancing helped me forget about you for a while; soothe the agony of a broken promise.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

six o'clock in the evening
january three


i was calling you. i have not heard from you since the night you called when your dad was in the hospital. but you were not picking up the phone. so i decided to drop by your house. i knew where it was even if you haven't brought me there yet despite my pleadings to meet your parents, your only brother. i took the mtr. it would be a forty five minute train ride from central. i didn't mind really. i had nothing else to do that night after work.

as soon as the train stopped, i got off quickly. excited to finally see where you live. it was a typical middle class neighborhood. there was a shopping mall right next to the mtr station, fast food chains, restaurants,  bars, starbucks, seven elevens. across the mall was a park, where i could imagine you playing tennis or running for a few hours. you've always been conscious of your body, scared of gaining weight. you wanted to keep your thirty-inch waistline. that's why you were also choosy when it comes to food -- no meat, no rice, no pizza. mostly vegetables, fish and fruits. you don't drink beer either, unlike me. but i wasn't fat. maybe i was born that way.
it was almost eight when i reached your family's apartment building. i decided to call you up, afraid that you might get mad if i suddenly appeared at your doorstep. but you were not answering the phone. it just kept on ringing. now i was having second thoughts. about going up and seeing you. what if you were not there? and what if you were there, but you didn't want to see me?
while trying to make up my mind, i decided to stay at starbucks first. have a cappuccino to warm me up. it was an unusually cold night. too bad i forgot to bring my jacket and a book that i could read to while away the time as i was in a hurry to leave my flat. i was absent-minded the whole day. because it was my birthday and i did not hear from you. i am a big worrier and it was obvious that you worried me. all the time. like the new year's eve, i also had big plans for my birthday dinner with you.
i was halfway through my frothy cappuccino when i saw you, clad in a black leather jacket, jeans and brown scarf, entering the coffee shop with a tall, elegant young lady. your arms were on her shoulders, her hands on your waist. there was no denying that you were lovers. i almost fainted. i blushed, my hands and knees trembled. i wanted to run away from there as fast as i could. at that moment, i wished i were invisible. i decided to put on the hood of my sweater hoping to cover my face like a celebrity and walked as fast as i could to the nearest exit.
still, you saw me. it was, after all, a small place.
you were stunned. turned red. the woman, short, black hair, bob style, oriental eyes, with little make up except for the bright red lipstick, was oblivious. she kept on talking to you. she was tall, almost as tall as you, skinny,  in tight jeans, black turtle neck shirt, jacket and boots. gorgeous like a movie star. i must say you two looked good together, like angelina jolie and brad pitt, hong kong version. if she noticed your reaction when our eyes met, she did not show it.
but we chose to deny each other's presence. we passed by each other quietly, nervously.

(((((((((((((((((

once outside, i called up celine to tell her about it. i needed to get it out as soon as i could or else i would suffer a heart attack. after a long conversation, of her trying to comfort me, begging me to meet up with her in a bar, she told me the truth: your father died a long time ago. you got married last year. that explained the hushed phone calls inside the bathroom, your refusal to spend more than one night in my apartment, the many excuses you gave me every time i asked to meet your family.

**************

it was the longest train ride that i ever had since living in the former british colony three years ago. the saddest too. the train was crowded, filled with people in a holiday mood. i was freezing, not from the wintry weather, but from the pain of discovering the truth about you. from finally finding out the web of lies that you made up to keep me glued to you. i didn't know if i would be happy or miserable for finally uncovering the truth and for having the chance, at last, to be free from you.
all around me, people were noisily chatting away. but i did not notice them. i could not even hear what they were saying. i felt like i wasn't there. that i was watching an old black and white film and the sound was turned off. i sat quietly, unable to cry. my heart was breaking into a million pieces. at the same time, there was a dull sensation, as if i had taken some medicine to numb the pain.

"tonight i can write the saddest lines.

write, for example,'the night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

the night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

tonight I can write the saddest lines.
i loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

through nights like this one i held her in my arms
i kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

she loved me sometimes, and i loved her too.
how could one not have loved her great still eyes."

tonight I can write the saddest lines.
to think that I do not have her. to feel that i have lost her.

then i saw a couple seated in front of me. they were kissing, their hands locked together. as if they were the only people inside the train. i started to cry. a strong, uncontrollable gush of tears flowed.  i didn't mind the happy people who could hear and see me cry. in pain, i could no longer see them.
in grief, i was invisible. at last.

***********

the train snaked its way into the bottom of the sea. then went up a hill. then went down again. as if mirroring my emotions. my state of mind. sometimes it would be dark outside, like it was the apocalypse. then when it stopped, there would be light everywhere. like it was the beginning of a new day, marked by people moving, rushing to get in and out of the loaded train.
most of the time, the train would rock me gently, as if lolling me to sleep. sometimes it would  shake me hard, as if it was trying to wake me up from a horrifying nightmare.
more thoughts ran through my mind. i kept picturing the two of you -- laughing like children from time to time over a private joke while you were sipping hot cappuccino (our favourite drink) and she her green tea (i could imagine her being a green tea person. i didn't know why). then there would be silences as if both of you had ran out of things to say, only your eyes and your hands, clasped tightly, would be speaking.
here i was, alone, cold in the train, surrounded by people who were happily looking forward to a party with their families and friends. i have always felt this way ever since i was young. an outsider looking in, even when i was with my family during the holidays.
in that long, lonely train ride, i recaptured my innocence.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

after what seemed like an endless ride, the train finally reached its ultimate destination. central. this time, my tears had stopped. i  got out of it, climbed into the streets. lost. i didn't know what to do, where to go. my mind suddenly went blank. i just wished that the sadness would go away, even temporarily.
walking aimlessly with heavy footsteps, looking glum in a city filled with beautiful people who were cheerfully clad in the holiday mood, i ended up in a bar. quite far from my flat. in an unfamiliar neighborhood. i really avoided going to bars where we often go because i feared that our friends, including the waiters and the bartenders, would ask about you. where were you? would you be coming along later? right now, i didn't have the answers. so i sat at one of the tall bar stools in this far away bar, where there was not much people. where a soft jazz music floated through the air. the bartender appeared in front of me. wearing a tight-fitting black sweater. a friendly face, someone from the philippines judging from his dark skin, thick black hair and the way he spoke english. very distinct, with a little lilt. he exuded a certain sweetness common among filipinos who meet their compatriots in a foreign country. he tried to make conversations while serving me drinks.
stella artois. then shots of tequilla. then heineken. then scotch. then gin tonic. i drowned my sobs, quietly, in the cacophony of laughters, of friendly banters, of people looking forward to a new year.
at around midnight, you called. i ignored it. you kept on calling. finally exasperated, i pushed the red button that gave you a busy tone. but you were persistent. you kept on calling. as if by calling me, by talking to me, it would help ease your guilt and erase the pain that you caused me. then everything would be alright. would be forgiven. but  you were wrong.

***************

when i woke up, i was in an unfamiliar room. naked. i didn't know what time it was. for a while, i was clothed in fear. i heard some voices outside of the cramped room, occupied mostly by a bed big enough for two, a small table on the corner and a cabinet made of wood. there was no chair, no table lamp. on the bed were two pillows, one was in between my legs, and a white bed sheet, half of it on the floor. the walls, i noticed,  were painted marine blue. my favourite colour. bare. like most apartments in hong kong, there were no windows. the heater was still on.
waking up finally, i looked for my clothes. they were hanging inside the cabinet, along with some unfamiliar shirts, pants and jackets. i checked my wallet, it was still there, at the back pocket of my jeans. my shoes were near the closed door along with my socks.
after putting on my clothes and shoes, fixing my hair with my fingers, i stepped out of the tiny bedroom into another narrow room -- a living and dining room in one. there was a large beige sofa that could fit in three people, a huge flat screen samsung teevee mounted on the wall like a work of art, a corner round table with a few magazines. then a few meters away, a small dining table with four chairs neatly arranged around it. there was food on the table. a mini ref beside it.
the bathroom door opened and i saw a stranger wearing only a towel around his waist. he was brown-skinned like me, slim figure. smooth, handsome face. he looked young, around twenty. he was drying his hair with a face towel. even from a distance, i could smell the soap and the shampoo that he just used. in another life, in another time, i would have devoured him. instantly. then he saw me. i was embarrassed, as if he could read my thoughts.

he smiled. a shy, trusting smile. i noticed a mole on his upper lip. the dimples too. ah, i thought, young man you will have your heart broken so many times if you're not careful.
"good afternoon," he said in filipino. i didn't say a word. i could not remember him. have i been kidnapped by this young and handsome stranger? i suddenly felt self-conscious. i still reeked of cigarettes and alcohol. i must look horrible too. i always look ugly right after waking up, with stinky breath to match.
sensing my confusion, he shifted to english. "i am jules. the bartender from last night. sorry, i took you home. i didn't know where to take you last night. you were so drunk that my manager asked me to take you home with me. to make sure that you were safe. you are filipino right?"
i nodded my head. my throat was still dry from the hang over. surprisingly, i did not have a headache.
"thank you," i managed to say at last. "sorry for all the trouble."
"it was alright. happy to help a kababayan," he said, adjusting the knot on his tiny towel that barely covered his body.  i couldn't help but notice the bulge underneath the flimsy fabric. "you want coffee?"
"i'm fine. i just want to go home." then i changed my mind and asked for a glass of water. he opened the small fridge (so small he had to squat to open it) and handed me a bottled water.
"romeo, right? that was the name you gave me last night."
i gulped down the water. grateful for its cold, calming effect.
i nodded my head.
"why don't you stay for a while. it's saturday. it's my day off.  i am alone, my flat mates went home to the philippines for the holiday. maybe take a shower? i can lend you some clean clothes."
"no. sorry. i don't want to be rude, but i really want to go home."
"ok. there's an mtr station five minutes from here. or you could take a cab. or call your driver," then he added: "i can take you there if you give me a minute to put on clothes."
"that's alright. i can manage," i said, suddenly shy. stealing a glance at his crotch. imagining what was in between his hairy legs.
he opened the main door to let me out. i extended my hand to shake his. instead of taking it, he touched my face with his cold, fresh from the shower hand. it smelled of soap. i almost stayed as i felt his hand stroking my face. gently. i liked the way he touched me. so familiar, so ticklish. the way he was looking at me. he had beautiful eyes too. honest but sad, brown eyes. slowly, everything came back. about what happened last night after he took me home. in his bed. after i asked him to turn the lights off. after we took off our clothes. before we fell asleep in a tight embrace. a newly born twin. exhausted. i suddenly remembered him on top of me, moaning, then gasping for air after a long, hard kiss.
"not now," i said softly and walked towards the elevator.
as the elevator door opened, i looked back and he was still there. still standing outside of his door. an apparition in a blue towel. smiling at me, waving his hand. i liked his hair armpits. i smiled back and stepped inside the empty, dimly-lit elevator devoid of any music. it descended slowly, as if contemplating if it wanted to stay or leave. upon reaching the ground floor, i lingered inside. then i pushed the number to his floor.