Years, Months, Days, Hours and Minutes.
Time. Time is the reason why.
I’ve almost loved him. Yeah, ALMOST. I treasured him so dearly; treated him as my super-duper, one of a kind, no-one-in-this-world-can-ever-replace-friend. I cared for him so much. Yes, so much…and almost loved him.
Well, he’s my best friend J. J as in letter “J”. I call him J. I used to call him J. It started when he first met me or shall I say, I met him. Actually I was so stupid to call him “J”.I thought his name’s really “J”.
On a nice cold windy Friday, April 17, to make it exact, I was on my way home from school when the wind blew my solo music sheet away from my cold, ungloved hands. I struggled to run after it and almost tripped in a trashcan. The page fluttered when it was caught and stranded by a nearby signpost in the sidewalk. “Oh, good heavens!” I said to myself. “come back to me my beloved paper…” and there was him. J. He’s that annoying guy who blocked me (well, I thought he purposely did block me),when I was a few feet away from my precious song sheet. “ I’m J.”, he blurted out and offered a hand facing my direction. “What in the world is this guy trying to do?? Impress me? How stupid!”, I thought. I started to answer, in a casual tone, though, “Ok…now if you’ll excuse me J, I’m really dying and in such a hurry!” I quickly said without even looking at his face for I was busy focusing on my music sheet flipping at the post. I totally forgot and never realized that I ignored his hand that is expecting to be shaken. But, he never moved aside but stood there as if hearing nothing. I cast him a glare, and he looked at me, shocked and confused why I talked to him. It was then I realized that I was mistaken. It seemed and yes, he was just really practicing his lines for his drama presentation and never intended to introduce himself to me. It was just a total misunderstanding. He smiled.(well, a sarcastic smile for me, though).I blushed. And honestly, I can’t deny the fact that he’s really, really cute, not to mention, with that masculine tone and hazel brown eyes that is smiling at my face. Now, it’s not a big deal really. You might think I was thunderstruck by his…you know, physique and appearance, but, seriously, no. Yeah, he’s cute and…think about the “ dream guy-perfect prince charming-knight in shining armor” girls are dying for…and so on…but he was a total stranger to me. Stranger, he had been.
Friday, Saturday, then Sunday came. I was seen singing a part in our chorale entitled” at the foot of the cross”. Ms. Tisdale, our beautiful music directress and my ever kind kindergarten teacher wore big smiles until I finished the song. She kept saying “God be glorified children, very good! Amie, dear, very good!“ She gave me a big bear hug at the backstage and I was near to tears when she said crying “ I’m so proud of you my child, you did a very good job!” I smiled, and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Ms.Tisdale.” “ Now, now, my dear, I want you to learn this song, master it and promise me that you’ll be the only one to sing it, ok?” she handed me a 2-page musical sheet entitled “ TIME”… I gladly accepted it and responded, “Thank you Ms.Tisdale. But…when will I be going to sing it?” I asked, knowing that Ms. Tisdale is strict when it comes to deadlines and schedules. “Anytime, as you wish dear,…when you feel like singing, or sad, you can…” I stopped her, trying to make it clear that I’m not getting her point. “Ms. Tisdale?” She looked at me and gave me a seemingly passive answer. “Just learn and master it. I’ll just inform you when, ok?” I smiled with my charming little 8-yr old smile.
It was just a flashback - a moment that I’ll never forget. I was 8 years old by then, when she handed me that music piece and when I woke up the day after the chorale, I found out that Ms. Tisdale died in a car accident that night and worst was when I learned that she was my mother. My real mother. I was confused since I grew up with my mom and dad who were always there beside me for 8 years (and until now).How come Ms. Tisdale is my mother? But needless to say, I am quite naïve and unfocused those years, since I was only 8 by then, so in other words, I easily moved on. But, I cried a lot that day and promised that I’ll sing the song that she gave me whenever I’m sad. It was a sad song, but I loved it. I treasured it like I treasured her. My favorite kindergarten teacher.
Now, let’s get back to the topic. J. Well, after our first “strange” meeting, we became friends.
I found out that we we’re in the same high school and he was a transferee from a prestigious all-boys school in New York. In the first several weeks, J was a little bit shy to be involved in the school’s clubs and organizations. But, time had come when he was completely adjusted to the school’s lifestyle. He was never like any other ordinary student. He was popular and was engaged in sports, especially soccer, which was really his forte, and also gained many friends not to mention the fan clubs that supported and protected him, the girls that flirted everyday and did their best just to get near him, the annoying autograph-signing and the stupid banners.(Ugh! I hated it!) He also excelled in academics, he’s a good writer, and believe me or not he’s a real good conversationalist. Little did I know that he was involved in drama and theater clubs in his old school, too. Ugh! He paints well, plays well, ugh, name it!
But, here’s the difficult part - not only was he involved in sports and athletics, excelled in both arts and academics; he’s also into music, which I really hated. Don’t get me wrong. I never hated him. I never hated music. I hated the fact that he’s close to perfect which makes me a little bit insecure. Yeah, right. I know what you’re thinking. I’m stupid and I’m giving you the right to laugh it out.
So, how did we become friends? Let’s get into details. After the last bell rang in our Thursday afternoon class, he approached me. “Hi!”, he casually said with that so-called sparkling eyes. I know you are giggling, but let’s get back to the scene. “I’ll be your piano tutor for the weekend.” He said.“What?!” I blurted, surprised. He hesitated but quickly spoke again “ your mom…uhm…hired me and told me that…” I intervened and cut him out. “My mom? How did you know my mom?” I wondered if my real mother, Ms. Tisdale, is the one responsible in hiring him, but it’s impossible since she’s gone several years ago. So I told myself that it was my mom, the one that I grew believing that she’s my real mom who hired him. “Wait, how come you have to tutor me and how come she’d have to hire when she didn’t even know that I was interested in playing the piano?” “Ahm, with all due respect Ms….” He paused and cleared his throat. “ I really don’t know about it but all I know is, I’m looking forward in seeing you this Saturday at 3pm,ok?” he spat the words as if assuring and convincing me the fact that he will really be my tutor. I just gave him the look, you know, the not-so-impressed-look since I was again flushed by my, ugh, you know, insecurity. “By the way, I’m…” “I know! ” I quickly spat. “You’re J, right? See you on Saturday then.” I added with a defensive tone. He smiled. The sarcastic smile again. (Sarcastic for me, all right.)
END OF 1ST CHAPTER
