Stuck in Love

Chapter 8

Junior year. Fourth floor of Glorietta. In front of the Cinema.

My sophomore classmates and I were chattering when one of the class leaders went to us and asked: “Guysh, ok lang ba sha inyo, kashama sha,” he, who hash sh-defect, pointed to the direcshon of the eshcalator where a couple wash shtanding near to.

I looked at them. They were facing each other, holding each other’s hands, talking in private, smiling and blushing. I could not remember hearing anything from our group’s discussion. She’s not part of the class. She’s from another section and that day was supposed to be a reunion of our second year class. She’s just there because...she’s the girlfriend.

From the looks of them, they didn’t seem to care about anyone around. It was not a total public display of affection or lampungan in short, but they were being sweet—and it killed me. It hurt to see them staring at each other like there’s no one else in the world. It wrenched me to see them so happily in love, holding like they would never want to part. It was motherfucking deadly to see him gently touch her face, curb her hair at the back of her ear, pull her closer and kiss her in the forehead.

That’s it! That was my cue to look away and save myself from dying inside. I remember holding my friend’s wrist and pressing it hard, “Ouch! Why?”

When she looked at me, little drops of tears were already falling down my cheeks. I remember feeling so weak I wanted to bend on my knees. Two of my friends held me and told me to collect myself.

“Kaya mo ‘yan. They can’t see you cry. He can’t see you breaking down. He doesn’t know, right,” my friend, France, said.

He doesn’t know. He’ll never know...because he’ll never bother and it won’t matter.

As we were walking to enter the cinema, I tried hard to hold back my tears. During the movie, while everyone else was laughing hard and yelling, I was silently crying, feeling the pain that crashed my heart.

That was—that was my last memory of seeing him. A great scene to remember before he left for Australia.

***

I started writing a novel when I was in second year high school. It was just a hobby that I did when I was bored. It was a love story. The guy character was inspired by Landon Carter in Nicholas Spark’s A Walk To Remember, one of my favorite love stories of all time.

Landon Carter—frat/bad guy, happy-go-lucky, yet very romantic when it comes to Jamie Sullivan, and a very thoughtful friend.

Since I saw the movie and read the book, I have always wanted to have a real love story just like that—but no, thanks for the cancer, I would take that out from my own plot. Besides, I have been perfectly healthy ever since, it shows.

So, why do bad guys fall in love with nice girls? And why do nice girls love being with bad guys?

“So, feeling mo, nice girl ka?” Carol asked. “And Sandro is the bad guy? And you think or you hope he can fall in love with you?”

How can Carol read my mind—like always? Is she actually my alter-ego-slash-conscience? Yes, I’m somehow a nice girl and he looks like a bad guy but the thought of love between us is totally out of the equation.

“Why’d you still have a big crush on him?”

“I don’t know. He’s impossible not to have a crush on. You saw him. He has that really captivating charm.”

“Hmm...he’s quite good-looking.”

“He is my first love. Di ba nga, first love never dies.”

“Whatevs. Teenage love affair. How sure are you that he’s your first love? You were in high school and you didn’t know anything about love back then.”

“Then explain to me, why I could not forget him, all these 12 years?”

“You’ve been into romantic relationships within those 12 years. I think you’re just thinking about him now because well, admit it, you’re sober.”

“How could you be so mean to me? I’m telling you I have not really forgotten him.”

“Alright, so what’s your plan? Are you gonna get close to him and wish he could fall for you?”

“I don’t have a plan. Whatever happens, happens. For now, I just hope I could see him again. And maybe become friends with him.” The thought of Sandro falling in love with me is an electrifying dream I would never even have.

How could it happen? We didn’t even have each other’s numbers. He deactivated his Facebook account and I didn’t know his Twitter. I looked for his name all over the Internet but I could not find any social networking site that would suffice for me to have a contact with him.

I did not want to ask anyone for his contact because I didn’t want to sound desperate. I didn’t want anyone except Carol to know that I was still into him. What I felt for him during high school should remain on my teenage years. And my lips were sealed.

***