Jane Corporal was Ma’am Merl’s valued student during the 2011 NSPC. She qualified for the esteemed contest after winning the 3rd place in Copyreading and Headline Writing, one of the most complicated fields in campus journalism. Copyreaders are mainly focused on straightening out ungrammatical construction, shortening sentences and tightening paragraphs, crossing out errors and the likes. Their task is somehow related to that of a Communication Arts teacher, except that symbols are used for Copyreading.
When I first met her in 2011, I already admired her. Jane was a demure, silent girl. There wasn’t much history between us, especially that they were situated in a different room during the 10-day event. Nevertheless, when I became extremely close to one of her friends, it signaled the beginning of a brief friendship.
She, somehow, became a bridge between her friend and I in 2014. Usually, her friend would use her phone to send a text message. Messenger wasn’t really a thing back then because smartphones weren’t popular. Eventually, her friend and I didn’t work out due to wild turn of events. Yet, one thing was for sure – somehow, I got to know her better.
Jane had a long, black hair. Her eyes were narrow – she even wore eyeglasses. The one attribute about her which I never forgot was her shy smile. From the looks of it, she never felt comfortable smiling widely in front of other people. Consequently, she beams were distinct.
My eyebrows raised, “Her name? How will I find her then?”
“She uses a weird name,” Joe smirked. “J Laroproc."
“J Laroproc? Man, that’s a funny name.”
Ma’am Merl unlatched from her silence. “She’s hiding from someone, that’s why she uses a different name in her social media account.”
It really felt anomalous. “Is she running away from someone? Did she commit a crime or something?”
“HA-HA-HA!” Ma’am Merl burst into laughter. “Of course, not. She’s trying to conceal her identity in Facebook because of people who hurt her.”
I was dumbfounded – to think that I knew Jane was full of benevolence and some bastard still managed to despise her made me want to reconnect with my old friend – probably know more about what happened – and cheer her up.
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Just as Angel finished her lunch, a neighbor dropped by at their residence to deliver a crushing news – her grandfather, who turned 98 last year, was found dead inside his room. He was dear to everyone because of his quirkiness.
Upon receiving the woeful information, Angel sat beside her mom, pinned her head on the wall and cried her eyes out. Defenseless, she was left vulnerable to depression.
“Sweetheart, I think he was really meant to go.” Her mom gave her a warm embrace. “He’s your guardian now,” she added.
Angel replied with a blubbered voice, “First I got sick, then grandpa died. What’s next? WHAT’S NEXT?!”
She absolutely thought that her life was already miserable. It appeared as if she lost faith. With her ailment, she couldn’t even see her grandpa in his wake. Such was a heartbreaking, and at the same time a defining moment in her life. With this loss, she made up her mind.
“I will never let myself become a weight that anyone has to carry,” she moaned.
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While Joe was skimming into the documents, I went to the nearby store to smoke. It was a few meters away from the school, which took me a couple of minutes by walking. As I lit my roll-up, Jane crossed my wearisome mind. I took out my phone from my right pocket while I gusted the smoke.
“J Laroproc,” I whispered while typing her name on Facebook search.
Before I hit on the search icon, I took my time and locked my phone. It was really unclear why I was edgy. I didn’t even realize that my first stick was already turned to ashes.
“Another menthol, please,” I told the lady in the store.
While handing the cigarette, she noticed something.
“You look pale,” she advised. “Are you hungry?”
“N-no, I’m not. Don’t mind it. I’m all fine.”
“Mister—“
“Prado.”
“Mister Prado, you buy cigarettes here every day. You never looked feeble, until today.”
“I guess it’s just stress,” I exclaimed. “Don’t worry about me. Thank you for your concern though.”
As I turned back, my second roll was halfway down. Something wasn’t right, I thought. After smoking it up, I moved back to the office.
“Ma’am, I can sense something odd is happening. I don’t know, but I’m sure there is. Do you mind if I leave, and check on Angel?”
She quickly agreed. “Go ahead. Come back here if you can. If not, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
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I rushed to her room as soon as I got to their house. When I opened the door, she was sitting on her bed staring hollowly outside her window, teary-eyed.
“What are you doing here?” she wept. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“Well, I had an uneasy feeling earlier. I don’t really know what’s wrong,” I gently responded. “I missed you so much.”
She crudely wiped her wet eyes and cheeks. “Who said I needed you here?”
I moved closer to her. “Something is wrong, I know.”
As I was about to caress her hair, she willingly slapped my hands away and gave me an incensed gaze.
“W-what’s wrong?” I sincerely asked. “Tell me, please. You’ve been ignoring me ever since you got sick.”
“IS THAT MY PROBLEM?!” she bellowed. “IF YOU’RE GOING TO COME HERE AND TALK TO ME LIKE YOU KNOW EVERYTHING, LEAVE! I DON’T NEED YOU!”
My whole world paused. I couldn’t even contemplate this corruption that successful changed our fate. I looked back at her because she had forsaken me. Deep inside, I was crying more painfully than the last time I did.
“W-what have I done to you?” I begged. “I never left your side.”
“THEN GO! LEAVE ME. I DON’T NEED YOU. FROM THE START, ALL YOU DID WAS COUNT EVERYTHING THAT YOU’VE DONE FOR ME.”
My guard tore as I broke down to my feet. “I-I wasn’t counting them. I just want you to realize how much I love you.”
“LOVE ME?! THAT’S BULLSHIT. YOU NEVER LOVED ME. YOU ONLY LOVED THE FACT THAT I LOVED YOU.”
“Please, don’t yell at me. I’m here, trying my best to fix this.”
“I DON’T WANT YOU ANYMORE, PATRICK! I WANT YOU OUT OF MY LIFE!”
Drained and exasperated, I stood and looked at her in the eyes.
“If this is what you really want, I’ll leave. But, don’t expect me to come back here.”
“THE DOOR IS OPEN!”
From my bag, I took out a bunch of grapes. She loved them, as always. But after putting the plastic on the table, she grabbed and tossed it outside the window.
YOU ARE READING
Picturesque
RomantizmWe take photographs as Return Tickets to moments otherwise gone. As Pat regains his shutter touch, Jane arrives in his borderline-okay life, which will make unimaginable differences.