When The Truth Unfolds

Prologue

Goodbye. I was never good at saying goodbye, let alone doing it. Except for the guys I kick out of my house in the morning because I just repeat the same lines over and over like a broken record, you have to go. I need to take a shower so when I go back here, you won't be here. Damn! I perfected that. I was the Master of it. I wonder what runs on their mind when I say that. Whenever I turn my back, I just knew I left them dumbfounded. Anyway, I meant goodbye to the people I cherish, or at least once cherished.

When I was 5, I heard my mother shouting at my Father. Again. It was nothing new. It was normal. They always do that. I was in the swing my Father built and placed in front of our house, hoping to hear less of their noise. I was singing a lullaby to my doll Jane to sleep, you see. When he walked out, he approached me and told me that he just needed to go out and buy me my favorite ice cream; strawberry. I knew there was something wrong, his eyes were all puffy and shiny as he hugged me tightly. But most of all, he went and buy alone, carrying huge bags. My Father never buys ice cream at night, let alone carry huge bags. That was the last time I saw him.

When I was 7, I had a babysitter. An old lady, I call her Nana. We used to stay at her house all the time. She baked a lot, something I never get to see my Mother did although we have the same oven at our house in Boston. I used to play a lot with her grandchildren. When we get tired, we just approach her and she would give us a lot of cupcakes and juice. She let me sleep in their couch while my playmates sleep on the floor. I wanted to sleep with them but she used to say that if I do, my back would get hurt. So I never did, and then when we wake up, we will resume playing. At night, we go home and would sing to sleep. She said if she sings, the monsters under my bed will go away. And then one morning, she never came and get me to go to her house anymore even though I waited. I couldn't sleep for a long time because I was afraid of the monsters. Later, I learned to sneak at night and would go to the living room to sleep on the couch. It didn't smell like peppermint like her house but at least there was comfort and no monsters when I sing myself to sleep.

When I was 25, I have a friend. Her name was Saddie. We used to go to bars together and even went to sleep around Europe before Med School for 2 months. We call it the adventures of Death and Die. But when we got to Amsterdam, we had a huge fight. Although we reconciled, we were not the same Death and Die anymore. There was this wall between us that we couldn't break, we were never the same. I received a call from my Mom saying she was really sick. I went home alone, and Saddie didn't go home with me. I never saw her since then.

Growing up, I learned how to say a proper goodbye. I say goodbye to my Mom before going to School if she was at home and not at the Hospital, which was rare. I say goodbye to my Teacher before going home after School. They say it was a polite thing to do. I say goodbye to my friends after a long day or night. Then look forward to tomorrow as we would be doing the same thing again; something fun.

These goodbyes, meant I will see them again in a day or two. What I didn't know, there were also goodbyes that you don't utter. Unspoken. Something that will make your heartache. You don't get to see them ever again. I never learned how to deal with that. Although I knew it had happened to me already, I never get used to it. How can you get used to something painful? How can you let go of the things you most want to hold on to? I never liked that feeling so I swore to myself that if it comes to a point where I separate ways with someone, I will say my goodbye. It might hurt less than intended.

I was always independent even as a kid. Having a Surgeon Mother who was always not around and a Father who left us when I was 5 made me so. I learned how to pour cereals and milk into my bowl for breakfast and make myself dinner. I grew up doing things on my own. I was okay, it didn't bother me. But when I met him, for almost 2 months, I've gotten used to waking up with him beside me in my own bed or in his trailer. Most of the time, we eat breakfast together. Sometimes, we go out for dinner. It wasn't bad. It was kind of nice. I liked the feeling. There are things that you weren't required to do alone. Even the simple ones like buying groceries. It was nice to do them with someone you've come to care of unexpectedly. With him, it was easy. With him, even silence was comfortable. With him, I always have this wonderful feeling, a feeling no one ever let me feel before.

There was a reason I said I'd be happy alone. It wasn't 'cause I thought I'd be happy alone. It was because if I loved someone and then it fell apart, I might not make it. It's easier to be alone, because what if you learned that you need love and you don't have it? What if you like it and lean on it? What if you shape your life around it and then it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It's like dying. The only difference is death ends. This? It could go on forever.

Being alone and saying goodbye, mixing them together. It would create chaos.

When his wife I knew nothing about showed up, I should have known right from that moment. It was a lost battle. But the stupidity in me asked him to choose when I should've known better and walked away. That could've at least saved my pride. Instead, I gambled it all. And in the end, as predicted, he chose to stay with her. Somehow I understand what made him do it. He was a good man. I wouldn't have fallen for him if he wasn't. Responsibilities always come first to him more than anything. But I was not a big of a person. I let my selfishness if people call it that, to flow. I watched them playhouse for a month, 2 months. I took all the criticisms and pity looks at work well. I never told anyone and I didn't even have the energy to admit it to myself but I lingered. I waited. I have this tiny bit of hope that one of these days, he will realize that he made the wrong move, he made a wrong decision. That it should've been me. But... it didn't come. From the looks of them, they even looked more comfortable with each other than the first time they were trying their Marriage to work. I knew I had to give up eventually. I was done. I couldn't take it any longer.

The hope in me was crushed. I was alone once again. It shouldn't bother me since as I said, I was used to it. But the thing is this kind of being alone? I couldn't pick the right word to describe it. Did it hurt? It was way beyond that. I don't know but something in me was missing. Like he just took it and never gave it back. Was it possible for me to get it back? If it was, how?

And then there was the goodbye. I lived 29 years and I never understood the need for unspoken goodbye. I resented the people who walked out of my life without saying it. But now I do understand it. Saying goodbye was a lot harder than I thought.

Sitting on a bench outside of the hospital right now with him in complete silence was killing me. This silence was deafening. For the first time, it was not at all comfortable, not anything near it either. I had to say goodbye but I couldn't do it.

I knew I had to do it right now. So I shifted to look at him sitting beside me. His head was down and his hands were on it. "Do you love her?" I asked. I had to know. I had to know if there was something I still can hold on to because if there was none, what was the point then?

He released a long sigh, straightened his body, and stared back at me. His eyes looked exhausted, "I don't know." He shrugged.

Somehow I believed that. Although it was not the kind of answer I expected to hear, I understood. Even though it was killing me, him not choosing me seemed like the right thing to do. He was being safe. 11 years of marriage was not an easy thing to throw away. But I wish he could be a little selfish when it comes to choosing. But who am I kidding anyway? If there was a responsibility involved, of course, he loved her. Those words that I said to him, I never get to hear them back.

Seeing the apologetic look in his eyes, I didn't want him to feel guilty after all, "It's good that you're trying." I began, releasing a heavy breath, "You wouldn't be you if you weren't the kind of person who was trying to make it work." I sincerely added.

"You think so?" He asked, glancing at me but looked away immediately.

I forced a smile, hiding the tears as there were threatening to fall, "It means I wasn't wrong about you." It was the truth. He is the kind of guy you wouldn't leave if you can't help it. The problem is, I couldn't leave him. Not when he was the one who left me in the first place.

"Thanks." He murmured, not convinced.

I stood up, turned my heel and started to walk away. It was time I have to say goodbye. Turning around to see him once more, "Derek." I called, like as if it was also the last time I utter his name, "See ya." I added.

Just then I realized. Doing the unspoken goodbye was a lot easier if you want to let go of someone. Because if you say goodbye and they will attempt to persuade or hold on to you, all the strength you gathered just for you to give up and choose yourself this time will go down the drain.