Ginger Ale

Chapter 1: Antonio

My mind is in a haze. I feel like I'm nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Like I've forgotten where I've come from and where I'm supposed to go. A fifteen-hour bus ride will do that to you. I slept all throughout the trip but I don't feel rested. Not at all.

It's like I'm sleepwalking still, or running on autopilot. One moment I'm getting down at the bus station, then I close my eyes and now I'm in a taxi headed to campus. Thank God my sleeping brain had enough sense to choose a cab instead of booking an Angkas. Otherwise, I would have dozed off and fallen right down the motorcycle.

As the sun steadily rises across the blue skies in Metro Manila, I too slowly get ahold of my bearings. The taxi's morning radio quietly hums, and through weary eyes I see the driver nodding to something an announcer says, but I couldn't make sense of any of it. It's too hushed, and I realize I still have my wireless earbuds on from the trip. I fish their case from my tote bag beside me and just as quickly put them away.

I look out the window of the cab. It's August now, and amidst the high-rises that we pass along the way, I spot a few birds flying up above. Scattered, with no determinate shape. They look free and focused in their flight, flying to a set destination. I smile faintly.
I am less nervous than I was last year in this very same position, aboard a taxi to the famed halls of UP Diliman. Last year was full of promise and anxious excitement. I was entering a new chapter in my life, and I was aware of it. I was ready to meet new friends and make new memories. But now, I just wish I could go back and redo everything. I'm less nervous because I'm less excited for what's to come.

The cab makes a sharp right, which startles me. We're riding through the Academic Oval now, acacia trees lining both sides of the street and framing the sky with their crowns that never touch. I look at my watch and it's just a little past 7 am. I spot a few joggers on the road with us, all in their own little worlds. A woman in a sun dress is walking her two dogs, a leash on each hand. And down the grassy decline of the Sunken Garden is a group of kids, none older than 10 years old, chasing each other, their brown skin already sweaty and glowing in the morning rays.

I've gotten too deep in my thoughts that I didn't realize we've reached the dormitory. I also didn't realize that I haven't spoken to the driver throughout the entire trip. But he seems kind and hopefully understands how my mind still feels too foggy and not-quite-awake to initiate any small conversation. I pay my fare, say a small "thank you", pick up my tote bag and navy blue weekender, and get out of the cab. As soon as I close the door, the taxi speeds away, probably eager to start the morning with a new passenger.

I let out a big yawn, and enter the lobby of Sycamore Residences. The eggshell walls and floor tiles are beautiful and elegant, but already show a bit of wear. I let out a sigh. The place feels warm and familiar, but it's slightly different than how it was just two months ago, before I left for summer vacation. Some of the furniture have been rearranged. The plush green sofa, a favorite spot of mine, is now on the far end of the room, near the tall windows and the bookshelves. So they do listen to my suggestions. I smile approvingly.

I approach the front desk and ring the bell. From the office door behind the desk comes out a woman in her early 50's, wearing a beaded fringe vest and a denim maxi skirt that drags across the floor. There are wrinkles on her face that betray her age, but it's clear she was a classic beauty during her time. It's not even 8 am and yet she looks as radiant and awake as ever.

"Tony, my dear, you're back!", she exclaims, the beads on her vest make a light jingling sound as she approaches me for a hug. "You like what we've done with the place?"

"I see you've been following somebody's advice on how to make the lobby more...welcoming?" I chuckle and receive her hug. "Hi, Miss Dahlia."

"Yeah, that someone does make a good point sometimes." She points to a spotted cat that has curled up in one of the sofa seats. "See, even Stanley likes the changes."

I smile and say nothing for a second, and so she continues. "So, how was your summer?"
"Oh, nothing special. Most of the time, I was just itching to get back here." That was a lie, but I don't want to talk about my disastrous summer right now.

Miss Dahlia notices my hesitation. She's always had that keen perception, that motherly sixth sense, despite not having any children of her own. She doesn't pursue the question.

"Alright, so let me just go back inside to check your room assignment and then I can give you all the residency forms that you need to fill up for the school year."

As she was about to turn, I call her, "Um, would it be okay if I just got my key and I'll do the forms later this afternoon? I was hoping to get a few more hours of sleep before my first class at 11."

She thinks about it for a while, and then smiles. "Alright, dear. I'll be right back."

When she reemerges, in her hands she holds a key ring with two keys and a small plastic container.

"So, this year you'll be in Room 403. If you need help bringing your stuff up from storage, you can just ask one of the house guards. Okay?"

I nod listlessly, the aches from the long trip slowly coming back to me.

"I'll be out this afternoon, so you can just ask Luna for those forms I told you. You remember Luna?"

I nod again.

"Alright love, I can see that you're tired. Go up to your room and rest well."

"Thanks, Miss Dahlia."

"And Tony?" She hands me the plastic container. I open it, and inside are the chocolate chip cookies she's famous all over the university for. They smell divine.

"For a great sophomore year," she says.

I move my way to the other end of the lobby, through the door that brings me to the dormitory's open grounds. The brick road goes on before it forks into three pathways towards the different dorm houses. The gazebos across the grounds are still empty; there is nobody here but me. I don't see any of the house guards, either.

I head to Tower 3, and as I climb the flight of stairs to the fourth floor, all the tiredness I'm feeling starts to overwhelm me. My neck is sore and my back hurts from that bus ride from home. I can't wait to lay in bed for a while; I deserve it. I still have a few hours before my first class starts.

I make a left and walk across the corridor to Room 403. I'm inserting the key into the lock when I realize the door's already unlocked. I open it and I hear that the shower's running. Someone's already here. I guess Miss Dahlia forgot to tell me.

I walk across the room, and see that the bed on the right side is already occupied. The sheets aren't made, and one of the pillows is on the floor, but everything else is neat. On the desk is a laptop and a few books piled atop one another. There is also a recycled glass jar with a pothos plant that looks healthier than anything I've ever taken care of. And atop that bedframe, staring at me directly, is a large one-sheet of the movie My Neighbor Totoro.

Cute, I think to myself, then I realize I've been standing in this stranger's side of the room for an impolite time now. Good thing I caught myself because how embarrassing and awkward a first encounter that would have been.

Should I wait for him to get out of the bathroom and then introduce myself? No, that's even more awkward. Should I just leave my bags and get out? Oh, but I'm too tired.

The bed on the other side of the room calls for me. I'm deadbeat and should probably just rest for a while. I'll worry about my formal introductions with my new roommate later today. I don't even bother taking off my shoes. I just sprawl on the bed, close my eyes, and dream about flying.