The Show After the 17th

02

2019

First Choice: Theatre Arts

I typed at the library.

My parents had the most romantic love story that began onstage. They were not actors, and only one of them was part of the production. Guess who accidentally walked up on stage thinking it led to a washroom? My mom. She had a poor sense of direction and I believed I took after her.

Their story started when my mom came to watch the play starring her brother, my Uncle Jun, but she got lost backstage and suddenly felt the need to relieve her bladder pressure and asked where the nearest washroom was. According to her, she just followed the directions the staff gave her and walked through the dimly lit hallways.  Surely she did. It led her to my dad, they turned lovey-dovey, got hitched, and had me. Dreamlike. 

My dad who was then an assistant director got starstruck by my endearingly oblivious mom, as he would always tell. According to him, which I found incredibly loving, my mom was so mesmerizingly pretty that she effortlessly fit right in with the glamorous stage backdrop. And it didn't appear like my mom just mistakenly stepped in.

"Riva flashed a clueless look, it was perfect as the scene she walked into had actors who were scripted to look floored. To me it was never a faux pas, it never ruined the show. Your mom was meant to be on stage at that time." Dad would always recall and my mom would get adorably embarrassed every time.

So, with that, I have always loved theatres and plays. My mom, after that fateful meeting with dad, became a theatre-goer, and it became our family routine. I basically grew up watching plays, especially those that my dad directs, more so when he advanced to becoming a producer. 

"Anja our star, reaching for the stars." Tasha hummed beside me when she read what I wrote on my college application form. She rested her head on my shoulder which I playfully nudged.

"Maddie put nursing. Suits her and her maternal instinct. I would love to wear their white uniform but I'm afraid everything I touch... What if the patients I'll nurse croak?!" She exclaimed.

"Hey don't say that." I cannot help but grin as I knew she was not seriously frustrated about it.

"I love flowers but remember when granny banned me from her garden because she claims those I handled have withered? It was not my fault if her plants were, as she says, not happy with how I tended to them. It has nothing to do with a green thumb or whatever she believes it. My hands are gentle, it's too soft, smooth, and pretty to be sowing soil." Atasha continued grouching and we both just burst out laughing. 

I knew she meant no offense by that, and anyone who has known Tasha for half their life would instantly understand she was not cut out for activities like that.

"I just want to get admitted to PU." She let out and I take she was not joking anymore, and was seriously staring at her still blank application form on the screen of her laptop.

"I'll enroll anywhere as long as they provide me with a scholarship." It was Madison this time who sat beside me with her tablet also displaying the unfinished application form she had been filling out. Her interest in taking up nursing came as a surprise to me because although she was one of my closest friends, she never mentioned anything about it.

Unlike Tasha who was brilliantly sure of the university she wanted to get into and still clueless of the program she would like to pursue, and Madison who was confident her diligence and intelligence would earn her a scholarship despite having an indefinite program in mind, I must be insanely sane to be single-mindedly fixed on getting into my dream university while also hoping I got to secure a slot in the only program I desire.

"I just turned 18 yesterday, and the first challenge of transitioning to adulthood I face is deciding my future. Can I have a minute, a day, a week, or even a month to contemplate this?"

"You can have a day. This is due this Friday, Atasha." Maddie reminded, with a tone considered to be motivating but humour between us interpreted it as a warning.

"And comes another application scheduled for the week after, and so on. This is just the first," I continued, aware that had we accomplished this last week, we wouldn't be cramming two days before submission

"Yeah. And we're dead if Mr. Reyes knew we're doing this last minute." Tasha whispered, with no need to announce because we were already aware of the future situation.

"He's sure to find out cause we will be needing his signature to request the informative copy of our grades, and he needs to sign here." I pointed at my screen where the adviser's signature was needed for document verification. Deep breaths we drew in unison diffused in the corner where we were lodging.

It wasn't long before we realized we needed to be at home, in our most comfortable and least distracting positions, to be able to complete the application for Primo University. And not when we were at the school library seeing all sorts of possibilities and physically sensing the stressors.

Primo University was one of the "big" colleges in the country, and the first among them to announce admissions causing graduating students to be all over the place. That would be us.

Planned that we just need to request first the requirements to be provided by our school registrar, we set off to walk around the campus to find Mr. Reyes. 

While at it, another realization of how thoughtless we had been, hit, given that requesting documents from the registrar could take 1 to 2 working days, and we had two possible endings. One, we're just dead —we will receive an earful from Mr. Reyes for processing our application this late. But that would be more bearable than two —we're doomed, we will not be able to meet the college application deadline due to the delay we brought ourselves. 

"Why is he suddenly not in there when he was always there?" Madison sounded amused but slightly agitated, as we all knew how glued our adviser always was in his swivel chair. Of all the many occasions he was expected to be in that office, he happened to be out when we were especially and urgently looking for him.

He would always be there in the early morning, when not in class, at lunch, in the afternoon, and even late in the day. Everyone can be convinced that the office of the Faculty of Science would not be complete if Mr. Reyes were not inside. Put it this way: every science teacher could go missing inside, but not Mr. Reyes; he was the human directory when other students were looking for their teachers. He always knew where to find them and not just students but also other school staff and visitors would always say 'thank you po' to him before leaving the office.

But now that he wasn't around, none of the remaining teachers in the office knew where he was, although they said he was not absent. And so we were on our way to a mini trip at our high school, which we hadn't done in a while due to the past quarter's exams and requirements we needed to comply with.

"What club is he assigned to head, again?" I questioned when I remembered Mr. Reyes had just recently been inducted as the new adviser of a school club—most likely one related to Physics or something similar."

"Robotics! Rover's Guild it is. I forgot about that." Maddie and I glanced at Tasha in surprise. She suddenly became giggly. In seconds, we understood what that reaction meant.

"I knew someone in that club. And yes, Sir Reyes must be there." She swerved in the direction headed where the club was quartered. We followed her steps and hoped Mr. Reyes was there. 

Come what may, I believe that we can still be hopeful after "being dead";  there's a subjective probability that one could still come back to life.