The Goodbye Girl

Ang Kuwento ni DARA

Edward left a scent on my pillow and I couldn’t help hugging it tonight. My friend walked in and hissed, “You’re hopeless! Tigilan mo na nga iyan!” and stormed out of the house. She knew that had she stayed longer, she would only say hurting words to me. And I would hate her for it because I knew, they were true.

I am hopeless. I am still hooked on Edward. I have tried countless times to get rid of him. I did succeed, for a while. But then, one look from him, one phone call, one date, and I would be back to square one. I am hopeless.

Last nights, my friends – him, included – went to my condo, bringing bottles of Jack and Cuervo. We drank, talked, listened to Spotify, ate pizza, and drank some more. It was a fun night. I caught a glimpse of Edward guzzling the nth shot of JackCoke for the night and I felt a rumble in my stomach. It was always a bad equation: him + me + alcohol = trouble.

The Cuervo was starting to lord over me again so before things became out of hand, I told my friends I had enough and went to my room to sleep.

I was awakened when I felt somebody lay beside me. I couldn’t see who it was because it was dark. But my heart beat in a rampage and I knew, it was him. He was the only one who had that effect on me. He moved closer and his familiar scent confirmed that last night was not unlike from the previous overnights I had with my friends: he was again my bedmate.

My friends had gone to bed, too. Some were asleep in the sala. Others were in the guest room. But  I couldn’t sleep anymore, knowing that I was sharing the bed and the pillow with him. After a few minutes, I heard him snore. Did he fall asleep that fast or was he just pretending?

Albeit difficult, I tried to sleep. I would wake up every now and then because I could feel him move beside me. Ang likot niya talaga matulog. There was a time when I woke up and his face was only few inches away from my face. In the dark, I studied his blemished, far from angelic face. This was the face that haunted me every night, the face I saw everywhere, even in other people’s faces.

This was the face that belonged to the man who made me walk in the air. The man who made me feel special, something that no man had ever done. This was the man who let his internship in the hospital when I said I need to see him, the man who helped me move in to my new condo,  the man who would always pay for my drinks whenever we were out in the bar. This was the man who held me countless times, who took off his jacket and offered it to me when it was cold, who soothed my back when I was drunk. This was the man who carried my bag even if it wasn’t heavy, who sang me songs when I was lonely, and gave me flowers when I thought nobody cared.

But this was also the man who flirted with different girls in a bar, while I was with our other friends in the next table. This was the man who never told me loved me. All he said was that I was special for him. We were just friends. And I shouldn’t be putting other interpretations to the sweet gestures that he had been doing to me… and for me.

I turned my back on him and lay on my side. I was beside the man who led me to dreamland and eventually, built the wall of reality that shattered to me, the man who made me feel the bliss of falling in love, and the pain of disillusionment.  I was beside an asshole I still love, in spite of everything.

I then felt him put his arm around me. I should have flinched and moved away from him. I should have stood up and left, and slept in another room, in a different bed. But I didn’t.

Instead, I turned around to face him, and I moved closer to him. I leaned my head on his chest. I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do but the tequila had taken its toll already. And as I lay there in his arms, distinguishing right from wrong seemed to be the most difficult thing to do.

Sanity had again abandoned me. But I didn’t mind. I knew I vowed never to be swayed by this man again. But then, all my friends’ advice and warnings, all my promises to myself, all my concealed anger for him, and all those self-respect quotes I pinned on Pinterest, were all drowned by the passion that consumed me that night.

All I cared was that it felt good breathing together with him. It felt good feeling his heart beat next to mine. It felt good thinking he was mine, even for a brief moment.

“One more hug from him won’t hurt,” I told myself. “This would be the last. I’d start hating him tomorrow.” 

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