The Loudest Unspoken

AT FIRST SHE DIDN’T understand. Why would someone withdraw from a relationship just when it was starting to feel like a real one? Why would someone go to the trouble of months of coming and going, spending thousands of hours together, piecing the stories of each other’s lives, discovering the things that delighted and repulsed them? Time, energy and emotions distilled into a knowledge that is brought only by the strongest of intimacy. She couldn’t comprehend how anybody could just let all of that go to waste.

She met him on a bright sunny day. She had just finished checking up on her staff and was looking at a display of orchids from Davao while he was looking for his friend who was somewhere inside the huge exhibit hall. He looked out of place in the event. She pointed the way to the information center and went back to the orchids—contemplating purchase.

It seemed that he was always looking for something. The next time she saw him was at a poetry reading in the café known for its Caribbean cuisine. Her friend’s brother, who was jailed during Martial Law before fleeing to London, wrote a book of poems that won an award. The affair was to launch the Philippine edition of the book. An acoustic band was supposed to back the poet as he read, if only the bassist would find his piece. He smiled apologetically as he rifled through his worn knapsack, pushing his wire-rim glasses up his nose and tucking his chin-length hair behind his ears as he bent. She was the one who noticed—and pointed out quickly, the sheaf of paper under the stool where the lead guitarist sat tuning his guitar.

After the reading he stopped her, as she was about to descend the spiral staircase. “It’s okay,” she replied when he thanked her for saving him.

“Twice in a row,” he said, “I wonder what’ll happen the next time we see each other.”

She nodded, finally realizing why his face seemed familiar. “Well,” she managed, “any situation would be fine as long as it didn’t involve blood and broken bones.”

When he laughed she felt inexplicably drawn to him. So she didn’t decline his invitation for coffee at the neighboring coffee house. However, she was surprised when he didn’t order anything for himself. Later on she would find out that he didn’t have enough money for two cups of coffee that night.

They saw each other many times since, as much as their schedules allowed. She learned that he’d given up on the corporate world three years earlier, largely to spite his father who—in his words, equated someone’s humanity with that person’s financial security. “I set myself free,” he declared confidently.

“From what?” she asked. “Money?”

“Not entirely. I know I need it to live. But I need so little only.”

He accepted few jobs from friends: writing, organizing a street play, and playing music in poetry readings; all sorts of things. She was immediately fascinated with him, she who’d been brought up to value and aspire for academic and professional excellence. She had always been drawn to people who evoked a sense of power over others. His power, she perceived, was subtle but strong just the same. When they met, she’d been on a steady rise up the corporate ladder as an executive for an advertising agency. Her car was the year’s latest model, she lived in a swanky condominium, and she shopped for nothing but designer clothes and things.

In him she saw a part of life that was totally alien to her. Her friends were quick to warn her. “He might be after your money,” one said. Another just told her to be careful around him. She never saw an ounce of malice in him, though. When they went out, he would insist they go to a place that he could afford, so as not to undermine his meager finances. As for the use of her car, she thought it was already a given in the equation since she brought it with her whenever she went anyway.