Christian Lynch. The only child of Mr. Ronan Lynch and Mrs. Therese Shelley-Lynch. My childhood friend.
It was Yuletide 1992 when we first met. Their family spent their Christmas in our downtown house in a province located 200 kilometers South of Manila. I haven't seen him not until on my father's last few days when he accompanied his grandfather.
I could still remember that day when my father gave me that ring. There was nothing special to the design like you just mix alloy and gold then hone it to a circular band and flatten the top. Create a twin band and wear it altogether and the two rings will become one. It could be worn with single band only but much better if you decide to wear its pair.
He gave it to me a few days before he passed away, telling me to cherish it until the end. All this time, I was thinking he had the other half when he died.
"You maybe wondering why I had the other half of your father's ring?" Christian asked as though he could really read my mind.
I nodded in agreement and he began telling me his part of the story.
"He gave me the other half of his ring on the night before he passed away. He told me to keep the ring until the end and to take care of you and Mabel when he's already gone. It was so hard for a thirteen year old boy to fully understand what he really meant but as I come of age, I eventually get a clearer view of the picture. But looks like, I already run out of time; you're entering the monastery in February." He further narrates as I could sense how he tries to hold back his tears.
And just like the old times, I held his hand and brought it close to my beating heart so as to wash away his fears and tears.
I was a bit stupid for not recognizing someone from my childhood. He towers me at 183 centimeters against my 161 centimeters edifice. His luscious chocolate brown hair morphed into a messy klatch of jet black mane.
"So how have you been? Haven't seen you nor heard from you since my father's demise?" I asked as the waiter in this fancy restaurant lays our orders on the table.
"I had stayed here in London for three years and moved to Los Angeles for college. And much to my dad's dismay, I just kept shifting courses until I grew tired of studying. I was a vagabond for six years. Now, it's your turn to tell yours."
"I moved here in London four years ago, managed to finish my O Levels as a Catholic nuns' scholar and here I am, juggling college with my apostolic work and your dad's reality show. I'm hoping to enter the formation house in Mexico this February."
"I never thought that you would actually take that nun-thing seriously. I mean, you were a lector and church server. But it's just--"
"I have dreamt of this as a child and I grew fonder of my dream as I mature. I have tried different jobs back in the Philippines and even put up an online business, which Mabel manages now but was never satisfied. I moved here and still, things remained the same."
We spent thirty more minutes before we left the restaurant with him driving behind my car as I drive my way home. I invited him for a coffee or tea maybe but he politely refused to accept.
Walking past my porch, I realize that there is something strange inside my house. The front door lock is unfastened, a bulb is lighted at the far end of my kitchen. I gathered all the courage I have and started walking on my toes to investigate.
Four, three, two and I'm down to one final step before I reach the door frame to the laundry room. I held the bottle of my Thierry Mugler perfume tighter and aimed it to the intruder and the moment he felt my presence, I sprayed a generous amount to his eyes that rattled him and he waggled his hands from side to side.
