Prologue
Click, clack, click, click... Fuck.
I tried to regain my balance after almost losing it, all from being too conscious of the steps I took to reach the front of the room. My heart kept on pounding, and with eyes wide I faced the class. I coughed softly, just to gain a little composure.
"Miss San Pedro? Do I have to repeat the question again?" The professor looked at me, eyes arched and arms across her chest. Impatience was evident.
I unconsciously bit my lower lip and clenched on to the side of my skirt, shaking my head no.
It's a simple question. Answer honestly.
Pep-talking myself has become a habit. With my fear of public speaking - even the mere asking of my 'new year's resolution' becomes a chore.
"Um.. m-my...." I started to utter. But that's all that came out of the first try, an utterance. I breathed deeply and forced myself to look up and focus on the first thing my eyes laid upon, right in the middle.
For a while, a sense of calm washed over me.
"My... my new year's resolution is to... be more open. To friends. To opportunities. To everything else life has to offer me," I say directly and briefly. I gave a thrifted smile after and took slow steps back to my chair. All is well. I said an entire sentence in front of a room filled with forty-something people.
I went back to scrawling on my notebook. I needed to re-center myself. A sentence was all I gave, but it took my all.
However, my resolution was genuine. During the last session I had with my psychiatrist, facing this specific fear is good. Daunting, yes... but good.
Lost in thought, I regained my care in the world only when the bell rang for next class.
I folded up the paper I was scrawling on, careful to make sure the edges meet each time.
"Huy."
I looked up, eyebrows scrunched out of frustration because someone just broke my focus. The damn paper is now crooked.
"Sungit, ah. Akala ko ba new year's resolution mo maging open?" He asked, flashing a full-on smile.
"Justin... Hindi pa ganun ka-open. Ayoko pa rin," I replied with disdain.
I begrudgingly stacked my notebooks and collected my pens, some falling on the floor because of the rush and the recklessness in my actions. He couldn't seem to take a clue and instead helped me, patiently picking the things up.
His smile remained as he handed my things over to me. "Good job kanina ah. Hindi ka na masyadong nauutal ngayon."
I took what he handed and I stuffed them all in my backpack. Without looking back at him, I asked him the question I've repeatedly asked over the past months, to which he repeatedly answered a cheesy pick-up line.
"Ano na naman bang gusto mo, Justin?"
"24 hours."
Hanging my backpack on my back, I was genuinely curious to know that this ominous '24 hours'-remark meant. I raised my eyebrows to urge him to keep talking.
He exhaled and bit his lower lip for a second.
"24 hours with me. Subukan mo lang, please. Let me help you fulfill your new year's resolution, just this once. 24 hours is all I need."
I keep telling myself I said 'okay' out of curiosity, but I knew that was a lie. All I could think about at that moment was one thing.
Maybe he was my way out of the spiral.
