In Motion

Epilogue: Inevitable by Anberlin (2007)

I wasn't too sure what I was doing at Our Bar with the OSec gang that Friday. I was exhausted after a week of trailing Sec in Singapore: briefing him, handing him notes, and meeting finance ministries' staff on his behalf. 

For one, that place wasn't even called "Our Bar." It was just close to the Department of Finance where we all (over)worked in 2014. We were a little over the President's midterm. The Cabinet's economic cluster needed to prove their worth to the Filipino people. 

Backtrack. I managed to push my lazy ass to a business degree from UP in 2009, with honors even, to the surprised joy of Mr. and Dr. Ramos. I worked for five years in banking, making other people's wealth grow until I got burned out, until I searched for more "meaning." (Don't, okay?) One lunch with Kat (yes, the same Professor Katrina Ferrer) had me submitting my CV to the Secretary's Chief of Staff, Kat's old friend. She liked my track record and willingness to give up a corporate salary for a government paycheck. 

Okay, so, back to Our Bar. On Fridays, after a long week, we'd find ourselves at one of the tables there. We became so close to the staff that they knew our names, our orders, and the songs to play from our Spotify playlists. 

Again, what was I doing at Our Bar when I should be sleeping?

Well, two things:

1. I needed to take the edge off, and Our Bar was close enough to my condo that it wouldn't hurt to swing by

2. Rachel, my work buddy (more like annoying work sister), insisted that I stop by to meet our newly hired teammate

Rach, I'm beat. And what's so special about the new guy anyway? I asked over Viber in Changi, waiting to board the flight home.

Uh... this is him?  Then she sent a picture.

That was when the cacophony of the airport faded out of focus.

New guy was wearing a navy suit and striped tie on a busy Melbourne street. He had a trimmed scruff and neatly coiffed hair combed to the side. He was tall, with a dimpled smile that reached his jet black eyes. But what caught me reeling was the thing in his hand: a black leather file case, chipped on the sides from overuse. 

New hire looks like Atom freaking Araullo, Rach added.

No, he didn't. He was more handsome. To me at least, the guy who spent the better part of his twenties hung up on his first love.

I should've picked up the hints. Kat sent me a message on Messenger: Hey, I forwarded another name to the COS. You'll have a new teammate. ;) 

Winky face was a weird addition, but I ignored it. I was preparing to board the flight. As the only close-in aide of Sec during that trip, I needed to concentrate. 

And then there was Gab, who managed to still send me witless messages from his Doctors to the Barrios post in signal-starved Romblon. 

Lover boy, guess who's coming home, he sent over WhatsApp.

You're not missed, sorry, I replied.

And just for that, I'm not telling you, ass face. 

I should've goddamn asked. 

Okay, more backtracking. What happened to me and Martin? Well, we drifted apart and moved on. At first, there were long Y!M conversations and longer emails peppered with "I miss you" and "I love you" (eck). We even spent time together whenever he came home for vacations. But he had a life to live in Australia. The exchanges got shorter, the sweet nothings disappeared, and there was a guy in his tagged Facebook photos. Last I heard, he took a job at McKinsey after graduating near the top of his class. (Yes, Martin went on to work in management consulting. No judgments.)