The Fortune of Bitter Bliss

Guard it at all costs. Merely a promise, more than a vow that I made nine years ago—to fortify it as much as I can, as strongest as possible. It took me a long time to realize that it was flawed logic; heavy defense also includes strategic escape when things start to exhibit unwanted tendencies.

Pained intense dreamy eyes and fidgeted knees like it was anticipating chaos, still, he managed to arrange this meeting like nothing happened. He aged well and refined but his confidence was not visible. Tension stood proud. I composed myself, even if I wanted to throw this hot coffee on his face for him to have a glimpse of the hell I went through because of him.

“What’s this all about?” I broke this fragile silence, slowly.

“Elle.” His hands tried to reach me but avoided it…instead, I locked my sight unto him challenging how he would look at me with those guilty eyes. 

“I’m sor—”

“It’s over, Marc. We both knew this.”

It was a love I could ever dream of, a virtue, a kind that I could embrace with gratitude, joy, and patience. The things that I've been deprived of since my life was framed by the expectations of people around me. Lower middle class pockets indoctrinated me, that to dream big, to exhaust my entire being working out for that one big dream guarantee my success even if it also means that I've to abandon matters that I hold near and dear. Yes, the love we poured at sixteen indeed was the most naïve yet the purest. 

“Are you happy?”

“This doesn’t change the fact that it’s too…late.” Cracked, now I am bare. 

“I spent my entire nine years wondering if I made the right choice. Happy at first but I’m too stupid.”

Memories flashed. An impressive list of scholarships was advertised, Marc and I thought university was also for fun and romance. He's such good company, so funny and straightforward—a mixture of a schoolboy and a grown man. We complement each other's fire. That's why we didn't have a hard time adjusting ourselves to the strange city which was hundreds of km away from our hometown. He's likely to engage in risk-taking actions, tends to act first for ideas and inspiration, and loves the crowd. While I prefer to take my time in making decisions and be comfortable with the details of my long-term plans. 

The city treated us accordingly, we met new people as if they never enjoyed their lives because of their insatiable desires to party and drink, we met distinguished academics who were in love with a certain level of intellectual stimulation, we met artists and poets who refused to settle for conventional, and then we met ourselves in a kind of game and a lesson in how to struggle through as best as we can.

I watched Marc’s dream with great interest, his eyes and ears were all set for Indie Films with no adequate financial support and crew. Mine was in the traditional career path of pursuing medicine. From time to time, I’m with him to polish his scripts, fit his small production bills, manage his set, and many more. Every short film held an even larger audience yet Marc can't find stable financing sources. He dropped college for his passion. It was on this occasion we both realized that we need to work harder to attract financiers and investors, not just the people who stood neither interested nor amused. Until we found ways to reach out to Marc’s target audience, it was a craze!

His success was too overwhelming and short-lived. It seemed an age to wake me that my scholarship is at risk. My scholarship provided me with enough stipends for my expenses including my dormitory. It helped our household that is why I cannot lose it. Life was so ironic to me in that way. All I’ve was an excellent forgery smile to lift my spirit. Academic responsibilities were easy if I had the privilege to think that I’m just a student, not the eldest daughter, not the person who would shoulder her familial baggage at the end of the day.

“The recent film is for you,” he announced in a nauseous voice.

“I don’t have time to watch,” I answered. It seemed a repetition of taking it too seriously. 

“I knew I tried hard but I mustered all my courage to face you, after all.”

“We can have some talks about the old days, with coffee,” he added. 

“So you think that was art?. I got it, Marc, but it won’t change anything.” 

If I’d an arrow, I couldn’t have jammed it into his heart harder. 

"It's fine."

"Ah, let's stay that way."

"You also lied." 

His swords swallowed me reflexively, then I immediately covered it with a sip of my coffee.

Distraught sip. Bitter. As if it was despair, an emptiness, grief for what might have been done and for what could have happened if I choose the consequences. One might think that having a child is the most natural thing for a woman to wish but not me. 

"You don't have any idea how much pain you've caused me. I did the right thing" I couldn’t curb my anger, it pressed my ears.

"By killing our baby?"

"I saved that baby. I don't want my baby to live with my regrets."

"I could have sto—"

"No, you didn't even try because you're too busy banging your actress, right? You leave me no choice, Marc. I only have myself at that time."

I discovered I was pregnant in the third year of my premed. Our household finances got even tighter because of Papa's medications and my two brothers were in college. My parents wished that after a year I would obtain my degree and I wished to set aside my plan for higher studies to support them.  Seeing them barely meet our ends, I can’t afford to give them another worry.

Things with Marc changed quickly from good to bad, his false assurance to me about his passion for films was a comfort to other girls. 

I weighed everything. I prayed, it was a wild hope for a clearer mind but my cowardness was too strong.

I later sought help but it was not my friend's. My desperation led me to the slums to seek a backstreet abortion. A middle-aged woman, whose name I don't even remember, greeted me with a faint smile in her makeshift shack. I said no word and she just understood the very reason why I was there. Successful labor lasted several hours—an experience as every mother is aware of the excruciating pain replaced by euphoria when the child is finally born. 

But it was not like that. I was lying on the hardwood plank, my legs were wide open. She jabbed my lower abdomen without a warning. The strong pound and a rough push left no room for mercy, my nerves twisted and my blood gushed down below. I heard her through the haze saying everything will be fine, it was a distant engagement. 

I bled for days. Mourn years for a child whose life I weighed through my poor judgment. 

"Hey, Dr. El. You alright?"

I wish I had been a fly on the wall.

I nodded to Jean, assuring her I'm fine. I hurriedly drank the remaining coffee in the cup as I settled my sight of him across the cafe. I wondered as if he was a new person, trousered, a gentleman in appearance—far from the uncertain boy that I once knew. It was the oddest sensation and filled me with the feeling of whether I should stay guarded or allow myself to melt into the curated scenario in my head. 

I guess this is my strategic escape.