At Last, Him

Chapter 23: Finding My Way Back

The room was steeped in focused silence, with the occasional scratch of pens on paper and the faint shuffle of notes breaking the tension. The review center, tucked into the third floor of a bustling Manila building, had become my second home since January 6. Now, on March 4, 2023—a Saturday—the pattern of coming here four days a week, MWFS, 6 p.m. to 9 p.m., felt as familiar as my own heartbeat.

The instructor stood at the front, his voice steady and precise as he reviewed the fundamentals of structural analysis. He pointed to the whiteboard, illustrating the nuances of load-bearing columns and the significance of live loads in architectural design.

"Understanding why these equations work is just as important as memorizing them," he said, tapping the board. "When you know the purpose behind them, your approach changes. Any questions?"

A hand shot up across the room—Elijah, a former schoolmate with an insatiable curiosity. "Tek, can you explain again how the live load varies in high-traffic areas?"

The instructor nodded and began drawing a new diagram. I watched closely, tracing the lines mentally and jotting down notes in my notebook, the margins already crowded with equations and reminders. The buzz of anxiety that had become my constant companion faded, replaced by the sharp clarity that came with focus.

"Shan," isang tinig ang bumulong sa tabi ko. Si Leanne, isang kaibigang nakilala ko sa mga nakakapagod na review sessions, tinapik ang aking braso. "Pagkatapos nito, kain tayo? There's a café nearby that's famous for its affogato."

Pinilit kong ngumiti nang kaunti. "Thanks, Leanne, but I think I'll pass. I need some time alone tonight."

Tiningnan niya ako ng saglit, ang kanyang ekspresyon ay lumambot sa pag-unawa. Sige. Pero kung magbago ang isip mo, let me know."

I nodded, grateful for her consideration but resolute in my choice. The solitude was something I craved lately, a cocoon where I could let my thoughts settle without interference. Since my father's death and the month of isolation that followed, I found it easier to navigate my grief alone.

The instructor glanced at the clock. "Alright, that's it for today. Make sure to go over your notes on lateral forces. Next session, we'll cover seismic design." He capped his marker with a click that signaled the end of class.

I packed my notes and highlighters into my bag, each movement practiced and efficient. Around me, the room filled with the sounds of rustling papers and tired but hopeful conversations.

"Good luck this week, everyone! We're going to need it!" Elijah called out, a lopsided grin on his face. May mga halakhak at bulung-bulungan ng pagsang-ayon na sumunod, na nagdagdag ng kaunting gaan sa mabigat na atmospera.

The review session had ended, leaving behind the hum of murmured conversations and the scratch of pens as classmates packed up. As I stepped out into the cool night air, I took a deep breath, letting the breeze wash over me, numbing the tightness in my chest. The city around me was alive, the streets buzzing with the familiar mix of car horns, laughter, and the distant call of street vendors. Saturday nights in Manila always had a certain energy, but tonight, I felt detached, as if I were watching it all from behind glass.

I headed toward the McDonald's a few blocks away, the bright glow of its neon sign cutting through the darkness. The scent of fries and grilled patties greeted me as I pushed open the door, filling me with a kind of bittersweet comfort. It was almost funny how something so ordinary could anchor me in a moment when everything else felt so loose and unsteady.

The place was busy, as it always was on weekends. Students, young professionals, families with kids squirming in their seats—all sharing this shared space yet lost in their own worlds. I joined the line, eyes drifting over the menu that I knew by heart but stared at anyway, as if the decision needed deep contemplation. My gaze shifted to a family by the window, the mother desperately trying to keep her two little boys from bouncing out of their seats. The memory of Mags and me at that age, giggling over shared fries, tugged at my heart, bittersweet and distant.