Lies and Confessions

2.

November 6, 2005.

“Welcome to Vancouver!” I raised my hands up in the air. I said it in a very cheerful voice—well at least I tried to sound cheerful. I think I failed. He looked at me with an eyebrow raised. “Sorry.” I scratched my nape and chuckled a bit. I shook his arm (a bit too awkwardly) and that made his smile grow wider.

He let go and he looked behind him. I peeked and I saw an airport cart carrying three different kinds of travel bags.

“I’m—I’m sorry I took long.” I said sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s alright.” He looks to me over his shoulder and flashes a set of white teeth.

“Oh, thanks.” I muttered.

He slowly grabbed his Louis Vuitton bag and sports bag, and I walked to the small white luggage. I looked up to him and said, “I’ll help you with this, okay?” He slowly nods, a smile forming on his face.

On the way back to the house, I asked him to talk about some basic information about himself. He repeated the fact that his name is Miles—short for Mac Lauren—and that he is 16 years old. He lives in London—well isn’t it obvious yet with his British accent?—, he has an 8-year-old sister, lives with his grandma, dad, and step mom. He said he likes Simple Plan. He loves eating fries with ice cream (I squealed when he said this; I do this too and a lot of people find it weird). Oh, and he owns a Rottweiler named July but it was born in December.

We finally arrived to our house after a long silent drive.

Miles and I simultaneously went to the back of the car to get his luggage and bags. When he unloaded them, I led him to the front door. But when I was about to get in, I looked over my shoulder to speak to him but I realized that he wasn’t following me. I searched for him and find him still standing in front of our house.

I walked to him and looked up at our house. I’ve been living in this house for almost my entire life but it’s only now that I stopped and actually find the details of it. If viewed in front, this would be the outcome: our house is white, and has a flat roof. Big, wide glass windows occupied most of the wall space. At the side of the house, almost invisible when looking at the front side, there’s a spiral stairs that leads to a separate room. It has two stories, two bedrooms in each story; however half of the second story is occupied by a terrace garden where I mostly do my homework and sleep during spring and autumn when the weather’s perfect.

In the night, all of the lights in our house are turned on and it looks absolutely lovely.

“Like it?”

He turned to me and nodded with a wide smile. “Can I stay here until the end of senior year?” He chuckles a bit and walks inside.

April 3, 2012.

“I’m getting married.”

We were both by the bridge, overviewing the river. This could have been a lovely sight, but I’m not even paying any attention to whatever our surroundings look like. I want to know if he’s joking or this is one of his biggest lies again and he just want to see me suffering all over again.

Should I say ‘congratulations!”? Or should I ask why in the world he hasn’t replied to any of my mails to him. Or why he hadn’t said a thing to me after the incident? Should I say that I still think about him even when he told me a bunch of lies that are too unforgivable? Oh, no. Definitely not.

“Oh!” I exhaled. “That’s great!” You’re lying, Sophia. Of course that’s not great. You waited for him patiently and this is what he gives you? “—to whom, though?”

“To Geneva.”

Terrific.

All of these make sense now.

That’s why Geneva stopped talking to me. That’s also probably why he didn’t even reply to one of my mails. But why did they keep this as a secret? To play with my feelings?

I gulped down the pain that start to sting in my chest. I looked down, fighting the tears away.

I heard myself ask if it’s Geneva Ramirez, my best friend in the whole wide world. I slapped myself in my mind. Of course it’s Geneva Ramirez Harnet—the girl who’s been my best friend ever since third grade. Her dad’s a politician ever since childhood, and because of his dad’s fame, her family made her use her mother’s maiden name. Only a few people know that she’s the mayor/governor/senator’s daughter, until—I guess—now, when she’s finally getting married.

I want to ask him. Why? Many other words could fill in after it. But there’s just too many that I don’t know where to start.

“When?” I’m not myself right now. Why are you denying your feelings, Sophia? You’re such an idiot!

I saw him shrug. “A month from now.”

Why did I call myself an idiot? I am not the idiot here. If there’s an idiot between the two of us, it’s Mac Lauren. He tries to explain how it happened. I pretended that I was listening. I am not.

Am I supposed to think straight right now? Is he expecting me to think straight right now? I don’t even give a barnacle that I actually stayed up all night for two weeks straight for their engagement party. The only emotion that I feel right now is pain. Only pain.

I looked away. Tears were starting to dwell up in my eyes, blurring my sight. I wiped off the tear drop that managed to escape when I turned.

Miles cleared his throat a bit, probably feeling dry. Then he turned to me. I felt his warm hand on my chin, and he lifted it up so our gazes would meet.

“Why are you crying?”

I looked into his eyes. He looks worried. But I don’t think he really is. I mean, it can’t be possible that he still cares about me. After all, if he does, he wouldn’t have hidden this…whole thing.

I breathed deeply. I thought, “Do you really want to do this?” and every cell of my body screamed it. But I remained silent. I looked deeply at him, and I know he wants to tell me something too. But he also remained silent.

To be honest, I’m really really happy for him. He used to tell me before that he’d love to get married and wouldn’t be like his mother who left her family for another man. He said he’d take full responsibility for his family. I’m truly happy for him, but I cannot deny the fact that I still have feelings for him. No, hold on, scratch that. I’ve always had feelings for him.

I ignored his question, and turned to the river so his hand would fall.

Miles, you’ve gone too naïve. You’re so numb.

One could easily see the meaning of these tears blurring my sight. One would’ve asked me already what is wrong. And I’d either say the truth or say that I’m fine. But Miles isn’t like that. He’s too oblivious. Just like before. He hasn’t changed a bit. The truth is already screaming inside me; that I have not let a moment pass by not thinking of him. That my feelings haven’t changed even if I try to.

Looking at the moon, I asked: “Am I invited to this wedding?”

Please say no, I thought. It would be easier for me. At least I won’t have to worry about acting that I’m totally fine on the wedding day itself. Or at least I won’t have to make an excuse if I happen to be not present on that day.

He hesitated for a while, but slowly, he nods.

I didn’t realize I’ve been holding my breath when he finally nodded. I exhaled and looked at him. A fake smile formed on my face. If he’s not oblivious, he would know that I’m wearing a fake smile. Too bad he is. “Great!” I exclaimed. “See you in a month!”

I reached Miles’s shoulder and patted it, saying ‘congratulations’.

Then I turned my back to him. As I begin to walk, my tears flooded. They started racing down my cheeks and I didn’t hesitate to let them fall. My hand immediately slapped on my mouth, trying to lock all of the pain inside me, not wanting to let any of them be heard. I pray to God that he isn’t looking at me as I walk off. I pray to God that he has already gone back to the event hall. But why, why God, do I feel is stare holding on me?