Chapter 59
Maybe, just maybe, I ended up getting hurt because I was a little too proud. Who wouldn’t, anyway? I think I have all the rights to be mad. Sadly, not to him. I can’t pull some blame game. I am not in the right position to point a finger, or two, at his face. He didn’t want what happened. Well, neither do I!
Oh, fine, I’m still bitter about it. It has been weeks since that freaking, painful day happened and I haven’t moved on yet. Kapag naalala ko ang araw na ‘yun, bumabalik sa utak ko kung paano ako umiiyak habang pinapadyak ko ang bisikletang sinakyan ko. Naaalala ko kung paano ako panuorin ng mga tao habang tinatayo ko ang sarili ko mula sa pagkabagsak—sa sobrang sama ng loob ko, nasobrahan ako sa padyak kaya tumaob ako. Naalala ko kung paano ako pagtawanan ni Mitch nang sabihin ko sa kaniya na nakuha ko ang sugat sa noo ko dahil nadulas ako sa C.R kaka-ilusyon na nagko-concert ako. Kung tawanan niya ako parang huling pagkakataon na niyang maging masaya sa buong buhay niya. Pero hinayaan ko na lang na ganoon ang tanging bagay na alam niya. Yes, I lied. Yes, I’ve never been guilty. But, no, I’m not telling anyone that I waited—that I was too excited to see him. I was planning to surprise him, but too bad, I was the one who was surprised. He wasn’t there.
Nganga. Kain bubog. Ganoon.
Pakiramdam ko sinampal ako nang malakas at sinabihan ng, “Okay, Jillian, maraming salamat sa pagpupunyagi mong makita ang taong mahal mo pero pasensya na dahil wala siya. May lubid diyan sa tabi ng duyan. Do the honour. Roll over and kill yourself. Thanks, bye.”
Yup, that’s how bad that feeling has been. It felt as though I’ve been given the Award for the most epic fail surprise made in the whole of humanity. Shame, I know.
The wind blew hard. I had to untie my ponytail. My hair messed with my fagged face. I kept on tucking my bangs behind the back of my ears. Seriously, making big decisions when you’re mad is bad, like bloody bad. Like what I had. Nagpagupit lang naman ako ng buhok sa Bench Fix pagbalik ko ng Town Square that same day. Pina-trim ko lang ito kaya medyo mahaba pa. Kaso nga lang, pinalagyan ko ng bangs. Now, it annoys me to death. And I have to wait for it to grow.
I also thought of having my hair dyed with blue. Pero ayaw kong ma-stress ang mga kaibigan ko at baka isipin nila na isa na ako sa mga Avatars.
Tinungkod ko ang aking dalawang kamay sa damuhan. Linanghap ko ang malamig na hangin. Ako lamang mag-isa ngayon dito sa sementeryo kung saan nakalibing ang Mommy ni Cyrus. I don’t know. I just felt like talking with her. With whatever’s happening between her son and I. I want to discuss about a few things. Maybe, to ask some questions, too, I guess.
Her tombstone read:
Jeminah Zeth Sarmiento
March 27, 1970– February 8, 2000
It’s her 14th death anniversary. It has been years but every fibre and shade of her are still clear and unmortgaged on her son’s memory. If I ask Cyrus what is the last thing they did, he could answer me right there and there. Sometimes, I wish I had a deeper thing with nostalgias. But most of the times, I pray that I wouldn’t, because memories can break us. And the hardest part of missing whatever happened in the past is the fact that we can never have them back. They would just remain as part of a finished chapter. A memoir of a story that has ended.
