It was in the rainy evening of June. He parked his car beside the gasoline station not too far away from the bar where he consumed his fifth beer. He turned off the engine but decided to keep the stereo on – he needed the DJ's voice, at least the rare hit on good jokes to kill the boredom. After damaging his car on three identical occasions, he had learned to always give himself a few minutes to sober up before going home. The rain and that non-cooperating shield-wiper convinced him more that he needed every ounce of alertness to survive the road. At least, just for tonight.
DJ Hillary started to dedicate a love song; somehow, she was already finished with her last caller. "Another Chicago song", he thought on the few opening notes he recognized from high school. He was not aware that he was smiling at the thought of it. Those memories of his high school life had succeeded in tempting him to remember – it was already almost fifteen years ago. He saw flashbacks – the recurring image of his awkward self with a guitar, his club activities, his classmates, his stressed teachers...and of course, Jen.
That thought of her almost drained the alcohol inside of him. He needed another drink, but he decided against it – it was still Tuesday, and he has yet to complete three designs for a client. At 30, he was a junior architect for a young company which specializes in 'green-designing'. He was not sure of a bright future, but he was contented – he will own his little home after twenty five years of salary deductions, and perhaps start saving for his old Pajero's replacement. He came a long way from a strawberry ice cream vendor at the Strawberry Farms to support his studies, and eight years as a government job order, before he finally got to where he is presently at. He remembered that his boss will have his chemotherapy next month, and the thought of a possible retirement that will advance his career made him feel guilty – 'a man's loss, will always be another man's gain'. He sighed - again, the stress of it made him thought that high school will always be one of the best parts of his life.
The song automatically switched to another ballad, the best Side A classic, and he smiled. He was ready to sing-along with it. Slowly, he deliberately relived the memories of the first woman he truly loved: Jen was his classmate in high school, although she was first stricken by her endearing laugh in his first year. She was his team mate in chess, where he intentionally delayed their games just to spend more time with her. From there, a certain kind of friendship blossomed – he started a routine of visiting her in her mother's souvenir shop at Betag for years, and eventually became inseparable in college. Every Saturday is a regular hike to Mt. Kalugong, followed by long walks at the BSU Campus at night. They were convinced that they were destined together...that what they have is, "Forever" (like the cheesy La Presa soap).
Eventually, Jen went to work abroad leaving him the promise that if they are really meant to be together, they will always end up in each other's arms – yes, that overly-used quote again. For a couple of years he immersed himself with work. It was the only way to make him forget that he badly missed Jen. With the passing of time, and seasons; he prepared the ring, and his bank account. It did not take any longer for him to receive the news that she was back in the country. But, to his surprise, the days became weeks, and weeks became months before she finally showed herself to him. There were no warm hugs, not even a sweet kiss. She was, instead, teary-eyed and trembling. She was carrying a scented card. She could only utter a single word: "Sorry".
It was about three thousand nights since then, and they never talked again– not after he blocked her name on his Facebook account, or after Jen went back to her work abroad with her little girl and successful husband.
There were many nights like this, when he ponders on what he did wrong, or what he could have done...what he could've said in that dark and drenched evening. He realized that he could not afford one more heartbreak, especially from her. He decided to let her go. He concluded, actually convinced himself, that some things are not really meant to be.
There were many nights like this, when the frequent rains drive people away – tourists, visitors, enterprising individuals...lovers.
There are many nights like this, especially in June.
