QED CLUB: the go-to place of students and teachers in Clark High whenever they have mind-boggling mysteries they want solved. For months, club president Loki Mendez has been managing it alone, but circumstances will force him to open its doors to ne...
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LORELEI
I WAS not confident with Loki's idea. After asking him about it repeatedly, he told us the specifics of his plan. Masyadong complicated. Masyado ring malawak ang net na gusto niyang gamitin na panghuli sa isda. Pwede ring istorbo sa ibang tao. Alistair and I expressed opposition to it, but he and Jamie would not budge.
We reached an impasse so we decided to call it a day. Baka kailangan muna naming itulog ito para magkaroon kami ng better perspective. Hinatid kami ni Alistair gamit ang kotse niya. Kami ni Loki ang una niyang hinatid sa aming apartment. Sunod niyang inihatid si Jamie na sa isang subdivision pala nakatira.
That evening, after taking my shower and changing my clothes, I got out of my room and went to the living room. Nakaupo sa isang couch si Loki, abalang-abala ang mga daliri sa mabibilis na pag-type sa keyboard ng kanyang laptop. For a second, I thought that he was composing an email again for his late friend Rhea. But he was so serious and aggressive with the way he pressed the keys, he must be composing something else.
"Is something wrong?" he asked without flicking his gaze at me. "Do you wanna discuss my brilliant plan to capture the poser? Or do you wanna convince me to reconsider? Because I won't."
I took my seat on the other couch. Given the similarities of our current case and his—how should I put it?—unusual habit, my curiosity got the better of me. "This may be personal to you, and I may be crossing the line here. But I'm curious: Are you still sending emails to . . . you know?"
"Who?"
"You know who I'm talking about."
"I send a lot of emails to a lot of people. Be specific."
"Rhea."
His thin fingers froze from typing, the harmony of keys being pressed came to a halt. His eyes met mine. Our gazes at each other lingered for a while. Silence ensued as if the world suddenly went on mute. I dared not to break it.
"Is that why you stared at me strangely this morning?" he asked as his fingers resumed flying across the keyboard. "Because the case somewhat reminds you of what I've been doing with my correspondence?"
In his eyes that were as cold as winter and as dull as ditchwater, I observed a glint of sadness when the client was telling us her case. He might come off as tactless and emotionless most of the time, but the circumstances of Megan's dilemma must have struck a chord with him.
Wrong move. I should not have probably asked him. "Never mind. If you're uncomfortable talking about it, I wouldn't push—"
"Do you think I'm crazy for sending her messages despite knowing that she'll never reply to me?"
My gaze transfixed on him for a minute. "I don't think you're crazy. I think you're still grieving. Maybe that's your way of coping with loss. May iba't ibang way naman ang bawat tao kung paano i-process ang pagkawala ng mga mahal nila sa buhay."
