chapter 13

I

I love her. 

She loves me. 

It should’ve been easy.  Simple. 

Then why does it hurt? And why can’t it be?  When did it become less than enough for two people to be together when they are truly, passionately, and equally in-love with each other?

1

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal.

I remember the first time I met her. I had been waiting, an hour perhaps. I was getting a bit irritated, but I have to wait. At the time, I was debating against myself if I really should continue waiting or should I just leave and do what I normally do – hang out, play ball, get drunk. At least, I thought that I had to. Later I realized that waiting isn’t a must. But I guess the waiting part made it more special.

Anyway, I did wait. Curiosity won over than any temptations that I’ve been toying in my head. I asked some of my friends who’ve met her, what she was like. Two words only registered in my system – Funny and sexy. Okay, that’s three.

Then, she came.

She walks along the corridor; her hands full of clutters, she smiles and nods to anyone who smiles and nods at her. She isn’t beautiful or hot. But I wasn’t disappointed. My irritation’s forgotten. There’s something in her that captivates me. I watched her.

She walks in. No, she isn’t simply just walking. She bounces, glides, struts, whatever. I can smell the air of clumsiness in her. She walked pasts by me. Her almost waist-length long, black hair was cut into a shape of a ‘V’. Though a little uncombed and somehow tangled, it seemed soft as it rests on her back. It shone against the few streaks of rays of sunlight that got through the window. I understand them.

The woman is a walking contradiction. And they were right – she defines sexy in her own term.

She got in the room; I followed. As soon as I settled, she took notice of me, half-frowning, half-smiling. “And you are…?”

“I’m…” She got me, “yours. “

***

I really can’t tell when it happened but I can still picture in my mind how. What he said and what we did are really vague to me now. But I can still feel the goose bumps, and oh, how my heart raced!

He was smiling at me the whole time. As soon as the class was dismissed, he approached me and asked for my number. He neither called nor texted me, though. A few days later, he asked. “Why didn’t you reply?”

“Huh?” I was surprised. “You didn’t text me anything.”

“Yep, I didn’t.” He gave a hearty laugh. “So, you waited, huh?”

I laughed. “Aren’t we being overconfident?”

“Not really.” He shrugged then started to walk towards the door. “I’ll text you later, okay? Will you text back?”

“Depends on what you’ll say.”

He retraced his steps back to me. “What shall I say to you that you would like?”

“Tell me I’m perfect.”

“You want me to lie to you?” His eyes wide with exaggerated horror. We both laugh. “Seriously, I’ll text you later. I want to talk to you about something.”

“What about?”

“I’ll text it to you later, don’t spoil the surprise.” He quit grinning and stared at me, almost frowning. I think he’s getting serious. “I don’t want you to get mad at me or anything but I really want to say it to you…”

So, he got me.

I was really curious so I waited for his message. That night, he did text. I did reply. I think his first message was, [ur perfct]. “You’re perfect.”

The number was not registered in my phonebook but I knew it was him. I was laughing while I was playing with my keypad. That whole night was the beginning of our irritatingly sweet banter. He never really told me something significant about anything but I can feel him trying to say something romantic and I was afraid I would like it so I did everything to avoid the forthcoming topic.

He was patient enough not to push the topic but finally opened it after a few long, pointless, sweet, careless, reckless, overwhelming nights of text conversations.

[f i tel u dat I’m inluv w/ u, wat wud u do?] “If I tell you that I’m in-love with you, what would you do?”

[dn’t]  “Don’t.”

[y?] “Why?”

[8s not ryt] “It’s not right.”

Long pause.

[wel, 8s a gud thing dat im not gonna tel u den, huh?] “Well. It’s a good thing that I am not going to tell you then, huh?”

[nick]“Nick…”

No reply.

[nick] “Nick…”

Still, no reply.

[gudnyt] “Goodnight.”