Wind (a novel)

Chapter Two - Emails

We grew up together.

I knew what made him smile, and he knew what made me cry. We were like macaroni and cheese. I always thought we'd be together forever. I can't remember a time in my childhood when he wasn't around. But like all young people in small, old-fashioned towns like Subic, he dreamed of something bigger. He left, chose his path, and explored the world and all it seemed to offer.

We were only sixteen when Paulo went away, and many years passed without a word from him. He was always the cautious type, making calculated choices, so I was surprised when he took such a big risk. His mom told me he had gone to Manila to attend college, and after that, I heard nothing.

Until one day, I received an email from him. It was surprising how he found my address, as we hadn't been in touch for so long. Later, I learned he got it from one of our mutual childhood friends, whom he had bumped into by chance in Liloan, a large municipality in Cebu where he lived now. But was it really an accident?

After I replied, we began exchanging emails, talking about everything and anything—from our daily routines, what we ate for lunch, to our current struggles with life. We shared some of our latest poems and enjoyed dissecting them as if we were each other's editors.

He sometimes shared stories about himself—his experiences, his discoveries. He'd send me photos, and I'd feel a twinge of envy, seeing him in places all over the country. But something was different. He sounded so grown-up, as if he knew everything.

I kept waiting for him to mention a woman he loved, a family of his own, and scanned his photos for any sign of a special someone—or maybe even kids. But there were none. The photos implied he was still single, though I thought perhaps he just didn't want me to know that part of his life yet.

Some of his emails spoke of God. It was clear he had developed a deep love for God and the Bible—something I couldn't fully understand. How could someone believe so deeply in myths and stories written to keep society in check? I always skipped over those parts when he discussed his religious views.

In one email, he wrote about wanting to become a pastor and dedicate his life to caring for less fortunate families in a small barangay. I wrote back, suggesting he wait a while, urging him to experience more of the freedom of his singlehood before committing to something so serious.

But after re-reading my message, I deleted it. Who was I to speak about freedom and commitment? Compared to him, I felt like I knew nothing about such things.

In my life, I've been in five relationships. I admit I loved one of them, but the others were just for fun. I met all my boyfriends while working as a student in a fast food chain during college. After years of casual relationships, I decided to stay single. Those relationships had no commitment and left me feeling empty. Back then, all I wanted was someone to keep me warm on cold nights.

It's funny, but I felt like we had really grown apart—physically, mentally, even in our beliefs. Our lives were so different now, yet it amazed me that he still thought of me. Even more so, that he reached out after all this time.

I also learned from his emails that Paulo had become a published author. He had written three books on spirituality, self-discovery, and personal growth. He had also become an inspirational speaker, giving lectures and seminars. This surprised me. I thought he was too young to have so much to teach others.

Then one day, I received an invitation. He was going to speak at a small event in a convention center in Cebu City, and he really wanted me to be there.

So, from my home in Subic, I took a three-hour bus ride to Manila, then a 45-minute flight to Mactan International Airport. I planned to stay for only one night, flying back early the next morning. I didn't know anyone in Cebu, nor did I expect anyone to know me. I wasn't planning to linger. I just wanted to see him again, to hear his voice. I wanted to sit with him in a café for a couple of hours, talking and reminiscing about the old days, when all we needed and wanted was each other.

θ θ θ

"Paulo! Look, I can see Uncle's church down the hill from here!"

"Annie, get down from there! You might get hurt! Don't make me call your uncle again!"

"Come on! Just a couple more minutes, please? I promise we'll be home before sunset."

As she fiddled with a short branch, gazing at the small countryside church below, she lost her footing... but landed in Paulo's arms.

"See? I told you," he said.

"Thank you," she murmured, lowering her gaze before looking up at him, her eyes lingering for a full three seconds as he gently set her down on the summer grass.

Her head was still resting on his lap when he looked back. "I'll always look after you. We're best friends, remember?"

"Yes, I know," she said playfully, then bit him on the arm.

"Ow! You always do that. What is it about my arm?" He rubbed the spot as they both laughed.

They spent the next half-hour sitting shoulder to shoulder, talking and laughing as they watched the sunset. Birds hurried back to their nests, and the country winds brushed their faces. Below the hill, the whole town seemed to fit into their young hands. They talked and talked—about wishes and dreams, family and friends, the excitement, and the wonderful, blank canvas of their teenage years.

Maya birds dotted the purple-orange sky as clouds slowly veiled the setting sun. Shadows stretched away from the waving grass, creeping toward the old mango tree. Etched into its bark were two names—Paulo and Annie—and beneath them, the words: "Better together."