The Other Half of a Song

Chapter 6: Aika

Present

After our staff meeting, Irene and I met up outside the News Department to grab lunch outside the station. As we were heading towards the lobby, I heard someone call my name. "Aika! Aika, wait!" I turned and saw Mark Landicho, a writer from the Sports Department, running towards us with a bouquet of flowers on his arms.

I don't exactly remember the first time I've talked to Mark but I do recall him being friends with Marjorie, another writer from our department, who sits in the cubicle across mine.

When he reached us, Mark handed me the bouquet of flowers he was holding. "For you." He said and I just looked at him incredulously.

"Aika, aren't you going to accept the flowers?" I heard Irene ask me but I was still awkwardly staring at Mark, waiting for cameras to pop in and say it was just a prank. "A-are you serious? That's for me?" I even asked to be sure.

"Yes." Mark replied, a hint of nervousness can be heard in the tone of his voice. "I bought these for you hoping you'll like them."

"Why would you give me flowers?" I asked, still couldn't believe that someone is giving me flowers.

"Aika... I... I would like to ask you out on a date, if that's alright with you." The guy replied and I was about to say no, but Irene beat me to it. "Of course, she'll love to go out with you!" she said and I gave her a look but she ignored me.

"Just text her the details and she'll be there. She's free on Saturday." Irene replied for me, taking Mark's phone and giving him my contact number. I've never gotten irritated with Irene ever but at that moment, I so wanted to fry her in a gallon of boiling oil.

"That's great! Thanks, Irene! And thank you, Aika!" the guy grinned so wide it made my cheeks hurt, he looked like he won a jackpot. Sadly, he's going out on a date with me, and I could be despicable at some time.

He was about to leave us but then remembered that I still haven't taken the flowers. So, he turned back at us and handed me the bouquet again. I didn't take it but Irene took it for me. When Mark was finally far away from us, I almost screamed at Irene out of vexation.

"Why did you do that?!" I asked her while trying to maintain a calm demeanor. But a hint of exasperation is still evident in my tone.

"Aika, you have to let go of the past and try to be happy. I'm not saying you go out there, flirt with any guy possible, but at least give someone else the chance to make you happy." Irene answered, "I've seen Mark trying to talk to you a lot of times already but you kept on turning him down."

"When did I ever turn him down?" I asked, as I recall that I've never had a single conversation with the guy.

"You kept on ignoring him, Aika. He's obviously so into you that he keeps on visiting Marjorie and talking to her just to see you."

"Marjorie and Mark are friends. It's not mystery why he would visit her." I shrugged.

"If she's really the reason why he keeps on making side trips to the news department, then why is his eyes always on you?" Irene rebutted and I stopped.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. You're just too numb to notice. And he's been trying to talk to you, but you always disregard him."

I just blew out my thin fringe. I was already feeling flustered. It's not that I really didn't notice Mark trying to talk to me, but Irene's right, I kept ignoring him.

"At least give him a chance, girl. He seems to be a kind and sweet person."

"They ALL seem kind and sweet until they get what they want from you or got bored from waiting for you to be ready to give them what they want." I argued as we continued on our way towards our favorite café to have lunch.

"You just met the wrong person, Aika. Not all men are like Kyle or your father. There are some loyal men out there. Don't shut your heart's door completely." After Irene said this, I just remained quiet.

I still do not agree with what she did and what she said but I'd rather not talk about it while I'm still irked about it. I hate talking when I'm mad. Brains don't function well when we're mad. And hungry. So, we had a quiet lunch.

After lunch break, my editor called on me to make a report about a protest happening outside the Senate Building. It is about a bill being heard in the senate that a lot of non-government organizations are opposing.

Without a minute to lose, I left the station and went to the Senate Building. True enough, a crowd already gathered outside the building with placards on their hands. The leader was speaking on a megaphone announcing to the masses why they are protesting.

As soon as I got off the company van, I immersed myself into the crowd to gather information about the said protest. I was busy asking around when the fully-armed police arrived.

And I was in the middle of asking one of the organizers about the protest when I heard a gunshot.

Upon hearing this, a group of people panicked and caused chaos as they try to leave the area. As they were having a commotion, somebody accidentally knocked me down on the ground.

But just as I was about to get stepped on, some guy was kind enough to drag me up and take me to a safe side- a vacant lot on the right corner of the building.

"Are you OK?" It was the guy who helped me who asked. I opened my mouth to say something but I was still shaking and trying to calm myself down.

I looked up at the face of the guy who helped me to see who he was and was surprised with what I saw.

He had the same deep-set eyes, that gentle yet very manly nose, and thin lips. That face that I thought I'll only see in a black and white photograph that was taken seventy years ago. That face that only belongs to the man my grandmother loved first or so I thought.

"Miggy! They need help! Come here!" a protestor called but he saw us and went towards us instead. "Somebody was accidentally shot. They need someone to administer first aid." He continued as he touched the guy's shoulder.

The guy, Miggy, looked at me and said, "You'll be safe here." Then, he smiled at me before leaving with the other protestor.

He had a very nice smile. No wonder Lola fell in love with Paeng.

I shook my head. What was I thinking?

Miggy. The protestor called him that. Miggy looked like Paeng.

Why, of all the people I'll meet in that place, did I meet someone who looked like my grandmother's first love?

It was crazy. I thought I was going crazy. I thought maybe I was just imagining things. But I wasn't.

The feel of his touch still lingered in my arms. He was real.