souls reborn

“one minute of reconciliation is worth more than a whole life of friendship!” 
― gabriel garcí­a márquez, one hundred years of solitude

it was bound to happen. us meeting again. unexpectedly. funny because we've been trying to meet up during the holidays, when he was in the country for a month long vacation. but somehow, something always happened, someone was always on the way, that we never managed to see each other even for a quick coffee or beer during the entire four weeks that he was home.

but last night was magical. it was a scene straight out of a gabriel garcia marquez book. i was hurrying up to meet a hong kong-based journalist friend at the lobby of the pen when who would i see at one table, having a quiet dinner, but him. he blended nicely with the luxurious warmth of the lobby -- the quiet conversations, the live classical music from a band nestled above, fresh flowers all over, wines, coffees, teas being consumed, businessmen in dark suits, women in casual but elegant dresses -- that i almost did not recognise him.

the eyes, though were what gave him away. they were the same lovely, sparkling eyes that made such a deep impression on me years ago in my former hang out in malate. those eyes that made me chase him amid the maze of dark, noisy bars the place was famous for so i would get his name. so i could introduce myself. so i could tell him that we were soul mates, that we used to be lovers or a mother and son in our past lives in egypt or in other, older civilization.

those were the days when he was fresh out of college, starry eyed, a bit naive, still innocent, full of dreams, ambitions and hungry for an adventure. in a white shirt and jeans that were a size or two bigger than him, baseball cap, silver necklaces, ear rings. that was his hip-hop phase.

the man i saw last night was nothing but a shadow of his old, younger self. here's a man with well-combed hair, long sleeve shirt, tight-fitting dark jeans, belt and expensive boat shoes. no more necklace, no more baseball cap. this is the man he always wanted to be: in smart casual, having dinner at a five-star hotel with one of the top bosses of the bank where he is currently working overseas.

still, i was doubtful. i had to take not just one, two, three but several glances at him, then stared at him really, really well, even coming closer to him, to finally recognise him. aha! here you are, prince charming. where have you been hiding?

i was in doubt that it was him because all i knew was that he left the country in early january.

but it was him. alright. all right. yes, more beautiful than ever. tall, graceful, charming. ecstatic. success suits him well. success becomes him.

after a brief hello and a handshake, we promised to meet each other after his dinner with his boss. after my meeting with my friend. 

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

of course i had written about him countless times. here was an old post about him:

but there is this boy d whom i could not get over with.

maybe because he was so young, so innocent when i met him.

so gorgeous too, even if he was still wearing braces.

it's been six, seven, eight years since i last saw him. i could no longer remember

the irony is, we were apart way, way longer than we were together. we were together for about three to four weeks. but those weeks were filled with so much fond memories. in such a short time, i felt like i have known him much, much better than i know myself. i had seen him laugh, cry, lost his temper, overjoyed, scared, angry.

i still remember him and think about him. sometimes. i still spent sleepless nights wondering what happened to him. asking a lot of (futile) what ifs? why not? lots of ifs. endless ifs.

he was the first one who cried when i told him i love him and i tried to stop him from leaving the country (i was then in manille). he just graduated from college at that time. so full of ambitions, eager for adventure. in the end, i let him go. i even helped him get everything that he needed for his new life in the desert. without me. chos!

&&&&&&&

yes, i played the martyr and i was happy for it.

i still have some of his photos stored somewhere in my bedroom. in our old house that was recently swept away by the strongest typhoon to ever hit the earth. an apt metaphor, you say? let those memories go. let the boy go. move on. find a new one.

still....

when i feel lonely, i would like to look at those pictures and feel young again.

but they are gone. lost forever. except in my memories. but they too are fading. like a forgotten old black and white film that has been gathering dusts in an abandoned basement.

&&&&&

ah, don't mind me.

i am just being the dramah queen that i am.

it always happens, when the dreaded christmas, new year and then my birthday come. yes in that order.

i wish i could skip all of them.

but how can i when everyone else seemed excited about them?

&&&&&

hopefully, they would be different this time. desert boy, gorgeous as ever, is coming home. finally.

&&&&&&&

so here we were.

true to his word. immediately after his boss left, he joined our table at the lobby. i introduced him to my friend, a former reuters journalist now based in hong kong, and her friend from a local television network. i was surprised that he did not hesitate when i asked him to join us. indeed the shy young man on the verge of manhood was no longer there.

after a round of beer, we said our goodbyes. my reporter friend and her teevee friend went up to her room to get something, leaving just us at the table.

desert boy asked to go somewhere else for a drink. his treat. it was his birthday the previous day. he turned thirty. already old, he said. not yet, i added. this is old, i pointed to my heart. he laughed.

he tells me he has just been promoted while the taxi was finding its way into manila's hazy, filthy, narrow and dangerous streets.

we ended up at my favorite hang out, near the sea, just across the ccp complex where a giant fountain cheers up everyone's mood : street children selling sampaguitas, candies and cigarettes, health conscious joggers, walkers and bikers, lovers making plans for the future seated on the grass, theatre patrons eager to watch wicked, or those who are going home after seeing the musical.

we talked. two long lost souls. both lonely. eager to catch up on each other's lives.

a decade ago. for three weeks. we were together almost everyday: him a bit scared of the life that was waiting for him in the desert where he would chase his dreams, seek an adventure. while i was wary, afraid of what would happen to our newly formed, fledging friendship. will it survive the distance? will talking over the phone and on the internet be enough? will those facebook shouts soothe the loneliness of not being with someone whom you had learned to love dearly?

apparently, we were too weak to surmount the distance. to bridge the miles and miles of seas and skies between us. we stopped communicating. him because he was with someone else, while i went on my own adventure somewhere in the land of teas, dim sums and giant malls. where i don't understand a word that the locals say. the better way to lose myself. to forget desert boy.

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

indeed, when two lonely, lovely souls are destined to meet, even the universe conspires with fate to make it happen.

"i love that hotel. it's my favourite hotel lobby in the country," i was saying, my way of warming up. who knows what we could and could not talk about.

"why didn't you say so? we could have stayed there. you want to go back?"

our table was right in the restaurant's veranda. overlooking the sea. bit romantic. bit tacky (plastic roses on every table. cheap curtains as mantels.)

"no," i said. "i also like it here. the view of the sea, especially in the darkness, on a quiet, balmy night such as this, calms me down. makes me forget about life."

"you're drunk. you're speaking in a poet's tongue," he said, offering a toast to our chance meeting. "i'm drunk too. i consumed five beers at the hotel."

"me too. but that's alright. we can get drunk. drown our sorrows. reminisce about the past. about the foolish things that we did, said, and did not say to each other. tonight, we are young," i said.

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

that's what we did. for four hours more. talked about how he used to be ten years ago. how i was during those years.

finally, i found the courage and asked.

"what happened to us?"

he quieted down. looked at the sea bathed in darkness. it was too quiet. like a cemetery. not a shadow moved. at least in the cemetery, ghosts roamed freely. tonight, here was one of my ghosts, who walked with me in early evening along roxas boulevard after catching a glimpse of the sunset. who slept beside me, talked to me in melancholic voices.

i understood the silence. drank my beer. and hoped that fate -- and the heavens above, including the stars that were absent tonight -- have more surprises in store for us.

because i was wrong. tonight, we were no longer young. even the night was just plain old.

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

song for the day: i wish you love by rachael yamagata