Category Archives: Short Story
What Matters (3)
(A Short Story – Third of 6 Parts)
Chris stood up and stretched. Jay lit another cigarette. He offered one to Chris.
“Oh no, Doc Jay,” Chris said, taking the cigarette. “Don’t you know that smoking is harmful to your health? You should quit smoking.”
“It’s too late,” Jay replied.
Chris and I exchanged a glance after hearing that.
“Too late for what bro?” Chris asked.
“Come on… just kidding. What I mean is, it’s too hard for me to quit now,” Jay said.
I couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty about whether Jay was joking or being serious with his comment. Chris pocketed the cigarette Jay had handed him, choosing not to light it.
I observed Jay closely and noticed how thin and pale he looked.
“Are you really okay, bro?” I asked, genuinely concerned.
Jay simply nodded, but his reluctance to discuss his health spoke volumes.
“Speaking of health, have you heard about Mario? He’s now an engineer and has been working in Saudi Arabia. I saw it on his Facebook,” Chris mentioned.
“Absolutely, Chris,” Jay confirmed. “Mario is doing incredibly well. It seems he hit the jackpot in Saudi Arabia, working at an oil refinery. He’s back in the Philippines now, and when I met up with Mon, I thought it would be a fantastic opportunity for all of us to get together. He only has about a month for his vacation.”
I thought that this was the perfect chance for us to reconnect and celebrate his success!
Chris turned to me. “How about you, Mon? Why couldn’t I find you on Facebook? You’re probably using an alias, huh?!”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Mon isn’t really into social media, Chris,” Jay remarked. “Unlike you, who’s completely hooked on Facebook.”
“Hooked, really? You’re the one who updates your profile picture almost every couple of days!”
“Wow… sounds like someone’s stalking me?” Jay teased playfully.
“Absolutely! I want to stay in the loop with my friends. Speaking of which, Mon, have you ever thought about getting a Facebook account? I’d be happy to help you set it up.”
“No, thanks. We have an Internet connection at home, but I can’t see any reason why I should do it.”
“Can you make us the reason? From now on, we should stay in touch from time to time. We have to catch up on a lot of things. You’re missing Jay’s educational content. I promise, you’ll learn a lot from those. You could also subscribe to my YouTube channel.”
“Come on, Chris, let Mon be. If he doesn’t want to do social media, that’s his choice.”
“Just give me your cell phone number, Chris, so we can stay connected. I’ve already got Jay’s.”
“Here you go.” Chris handed me his business card. “Just give me a missed call so I can save your number. But don’t worry, I’m still going to help you set up a Facebook account. I’ll even send you the password once it’s ready. By the way, do you have an email?”
“I don’t have an email. I don’t have a Google account.”
“Wow, Mon, you’re really living in the past! But don’t worry, I’ll handle everything for you. All give you all the details later, then decide whether you want to live in the 21st century or stay in the Jurassic Age.”
“Chris, just give Mon time, okay. I am pretty sure he will consider it.”
I nodded, fully aware that Chris was resolute and wouldn’t back down.
“Hold on, I want to ask one more thing. Jay, you have a PhD, Mario is a skilled engineer, and I hold degrees in IT and an MBA. What about you, Mon? What did you major in?”
With a playful grin, I replied, “I earned a Bachelor of Science in Driving and Farming.”
“Huh? Is there such a degree?” Chris asked, puzzled.
“Oh, absolutely… it’s offered at the University of Hard Knocks,” Jay chimed in, clearly enjoying the moment.
I recognized Jay’s humor and appreciated how he was helping me make fun of Chris.
“University of Hard Knocks? Where can I sign up for that?” Chris joked, clearly intrigued.
Chris looked even more confused.
“Listen, we realize that the best lessons often come from real-life experiences. That’s what Jay was getting at with the idea of the ‘University of Hard Knocks,'” I said, emphasizing my point.
“Keep in mind that Mon didn’t attend college,” Jay chimed in, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “But if memory serves, Mon’s grades were actually higher than yours and Mario’s. Just saying.”
“Alright, I get it. You were excellent students. You were good at English. Mario and I were scraping the bottom of the barrel,” Chris said.
“Honestly, you two were just being lazy back then. Mon and I spent countless hours in the library, immersed in books and tackling assignments,” Jay pointed out.
“Hold on!” Chris suddenly cut in. “I can already see where this is going, bro… you’re about to say Mon was the only one who didn’t copy off you during tests.”
“And yet, you don’t really grasp what ‘University of Hard Knocks’ means,” Jay added with a smirk.
“Okay, okay, I’ll concede… you really are the smart ones.”
“You said it, not me,” Jay chuckled, his laughter echoing the light-hearted teasing among us. I couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie shared between my friends. It crossed my mind to remind them that I had consistently ranked in the top 10 of our class throughout all four years and had even achieved the highest score on the NSAT among the four of us. However, the thought of bringing it up felt a bit awkward.
“Honestly, if you had taken the scholarship exam with us back then, I have no doubt you would have aced it. After all, even Chris passed, and you would have certainly done better,” Jay confidently asserted.
“I just got lucky,” Chris interjected, downplaying his success.
Back then, my dream was to attend college, and I was determined to take the scholarship exam to study in Manila. However, I chose to put my aspirations on hold to support my father on our farm. Farming was not just our livelihood; it was our way of life. As my father grew older, he needed my help more than ever. Meanwhile, my mother worked hard selling fish and vegetables in the market.
As the eldest of four siblings and the only son, I felt a deep sense of duty to my family. I understood that our parents couldn’t possibly afford to send all of us to college at the same time. So, I made the difficult decision to prioritize my siblings’ education over my own. Two of them successfully graduated, marking a proud achievement for our family.
However, life took an unexpected turn for my youngest sister. She became pregnant by her seaman boyfriend just a year before her graduation. Despite the challenges, they got married and have built a good life together. This journey has taught me the importance of sacrifice and the lasting impact of family.
“Oh, by the way… What do you do now, Mon?” Chris asked.
“I drive a jeep and manage the farm that was passed down to me from my father. How about you?”
“I work as a systems supervisor at a BPO in Ortigas, and on top of that, I’m a freelance website developer. I purchased this car using the profits from the websites I’ve created and maintained.”
“Wow, Chris has hit it big! He even has two condo units in Quezon City,” Jay commented.
“You’re the real success story here, Doc Jay. The lady guard in your school mentioned that she heard that your salary grade is 23 as dean of that local college.”
“Did you buy into that? That was just hearsay!”
“Absolutely! Besides, you’re always broadcasting live on Facebook whenever you’re speaking at seminars. I can only imagine how well you’re compensated for that. I also checked on the Internet how much the equivalent of that salary grade is.”
“Wow! Looks like we have a Marites in our midst Mon.”
“Hey, Mon, don’t mind Jay. Check this out—Jay’s Facebook cover showcasing his delightful little nipa hut!”
I turned to see what Chris was excited about. To my surprise, Jay’s house was not just charming, but also impressively large and beautiful.
“I’m still making payments on that,” Jay added with a hint of pride.
It filled me with joy to see how far Jay and Chris had come. Their dedication and hard work have truly paid off.
“How about you, Mon? Where’s home for you now?” Chris inquired.
“I’m still in the same place.”
“Really? You mean that old house? The one we used to hang out in?”
“Yes, Chris. Along with the farm, the house, and the land were passed down to me from my late parents.”
“That’s a relief that your siblings didn’t contest it,” Jay commented.
“Absolutely. They’ve all built great lives for themselves—married well, have their own properties, and good careers. I’ve offered them help, but they’ve graciously declined. Instead, they’re the ones showering me and my family with gifts whenever they come to visit.” I replied, feeling a mix of pride and nostalgia.
“You’re fortunate. You have great sisters. My siblings and I are still embroiled in a bitter struggle over the land and house our parents left us.”
“Chris, it’s time to move on. You have more than enough money now, plus you own two condos.”
“Jay, my siblings are significantly wealthier than I am. Ideally, the house and land should have been left to me. We could really end up in a legal battle over this.”
I wasn’t shocked to hear Chris discussing the turmoil surrounding family inheritances. It’s tragic how some families can become so divided that they resort to extreme measures, even violence, over property. I consider myself lucky that my siblings have allowed me to keep our share. Regardless, I make it a point to share my harvest of rice and vegetables with them.
Our conversation was abruptly interrupted when we spotted a sleek black Mercedes-Benz pulling up in front of us. Mario had finally arrived.
To be continued…
What Matters (2)
(A Short Story – Second of 6 Parts)
Every time we planned a get-together, it was a predictable pattern. Jay was always the first to show up, eager and ready for the fun to begin. I followed closely behind, but Chris and Mario seemed to have a knack for arriving late, occasionally switching between being third and last. Their tardiness became a running joke among us, but it also made us appreciate those moments when we were all together just a little bit more.
I got off the jeep and walked over to Jay’s car. He opened the door and let me in.
I checked my watch—it was already half past two, and I wasn’t late. The moment I stepped into Jay’s car, I was greeted by an exquisite scent, far from the typical air freshener smell. This was something unique, a fragrance that hinted at luxury, perhaps even an expensive perfume.
In stark contrast, I couldn’t shake off the lingering odor of rubbing alcohol that clung to me. Jay, on the other hand, presented a polished image in his long-sleeved shirt and tie, likely having just come from a meeting. It was clear: whether by necessity or preference, he had a habit of dressing to impress when meeting others.
“Let’s stay inside for now; it’s sweltering outside,” Jay suggested. “This gives us the perfect chance to catch up! How have you been? What’s new in your life since high school?”
“Oh, I don’t really have anything exciting to share. I just stayed here in our town. I drive a Jeep and work on our farm. I didn’t get the chance to go to college,” I paused, reflecting on the reasons I missed that opportunity. “You go ahead, sir. Please tell your story first, and I’ll continue later.”
Jay shared his inspiring educational journey, demonstrating how determination can lead to extraordinary achievements. With relentless effort, he earned both his Master’s and PhD, showcasing his remarkable intellect. It’s truly impressive that he has risen to the position of dean at a prominent college in the nearby town—the very institution to which I frequently drive students. His story is a testament to the power of hard work and dedication!
He had connections with Chris and Mario because they were friends on Facebook, and he shared that they had been trying to locate me on social media for quite some time. But it’s no surprise they couldn’t find me; I don’t have a Facebook account or engage in any social media. I’ve always felt that I don’t need it. Instead, I immerse myself in the world of newspapers. Every day, I buy the Philippine Star and Tempo, and I dive into them while waiting for passengers. When I’m behind the wheel of my Jeep, I tune into the radio, and at home, I enjoy watching TV. I believe this keeps me well-informed about what’s happening around me. I’m aware of platforms like Facebook and YouTube because I see my kids using the computer, and I occasionally catch viral videos on TV. In a way, I stay connected and current without relying on social media.
We had been chatting for almost 20 minutes, and Chris and Mario still hadn’t arrived.
“They’re taking forever.”
“They have not changed. Those two are always late whenever we have a meet-up, sir.”
“Could you please stop calling me sir? This is the second time you’ve done it. I’m really not sure why you’ve started being so formal. It would mean a lot to me if you just called me Jay.”
“Well, you’re a doctor and the dean of a college. You should be addressed formally.”
“Alright, I understand. When you’re at school and in the presence of others, you can address me as ‘Sir.’ However, in this setting, let’s keep it casual—just call me Jay.”
“Okay, doc.”
“Ahh… now it’s doc? What is this now? Geez. Come on, let’s get out. I need a smoke.”
We both got out of Jay’s car and sat on the big rocks surrounding the acacia tree. It was one of the few acacia trees still around the basketball court where we used to play when we were in high school. The sari-sari store and the “lugawan” beside the court were still there.
Jay offered me a cigarette. I declined. I never learned to smoke.
“You don’t smoke?” Jay said. “Good for you. I wish I hadn’t learned to.”
“Huh? Why?”
He looked at me.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just forget about it.”
I could tell Jay wanted to say something. He suddenly seemed down. He lit his cigarette.
“Jay, that board looks really old. It might fall apart anytime. And the ring is hanging loosely.”
“Yeah, it looks like it hasn’t been replaced. That’s probably the same board and ring we used when we used to come here to play.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Well, there’s a new sports center near the town hall now, so the basketball players just play there.”
“At least Nanay Mameng’s store and Mang Isko’s lugawan have improved. Look, their place is now made of concrete.”
“Oh, I didn’t notice that earlier. Before, it was made of bamboo and nipa.”
I pass by this place almost every day, but I never noticed that they had changed the structure of the store and the lugawan.
“Do you think Nanay Mameng and Mang Isko are still around?”
“We’ll find out later, Jay.”
“Yeah, when I finish this cigarette, we’ll check on them. By the way, do you still play basketball?”
“Sometimes, when I’m not driving the jeep. There’s a court in our barangay, near my house. I join when they have a league.”
After Jay finished his first cigarette, we saw a car approaching. It stopped right in front of us, and the window slowly rolled down.
“Hello, ladies…” It was Chris. “Wait, bros, let me park this properly.”
Jay parked his new-looking car next to my jeep. My jeep was between Jay and Chris’s cars. Both were Honda Civics – Jay’s was black, and Chris’s was red.
Chris got out of the car. We were both wearing polo shirts, jeans, and rubber shoes. His looked new, while mine was a bit worn out.
“Whose junk is this? It might infect my car,” Chris said.
“Idiot, that’s Mon’s,” Jay said.
“Oh, sorry, bro. I didn’t realize it was yours.”
“No problem, bro.”
“Same old Chris… tactless,” Jay added.
“So, how have you been, bro?”
Jay and I both gave him a thumbs-up.
“And the playboy, how’s he doing?” Jay asked.
“Playboy? You’re the playboy. I heard you have a student girlfriend.”
“Come on, Chris, we’re different. I don’t shit where I eat. Having an affair with a student is a dangerous game I will never play. I am not like you… skirt-chaser.”
“Really!?” I asked.
“Yes Mon. He even tried to hit on our lady guard at school.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“She told me. You asked for her number when you visited me at school.”
“Okay, okay. She’s a hot mama, that lady guard. She has a great… bumper.”
“Anyway, how many of our high school classmates did you date when you started working?”
“Hey, Jay… just three: Aida, Lorna, and Fe.”
“Come on. Those are names in a song.” I exclaimed.
“I can’t tell you their real names. You know them. I am no kiss-and-tell guy.”
Jay asked, “For real? Three of our high school classmates?”
“What was I supposed to do? They were the ones who contacted me and chased me.”
After saying that, Chris sat in between Jay and me.
“Wow, you smell really good, bro. Looks like you used perfume to shower earlier.”
“I just used cheap cologne,” Jay replied.
“Mon, what’s that smell? Damn, it’s alcohol… you’re using rubbing alcohol as cologne?”
“Yeah, bro. Green Cross rubbing alcohol.” I just went along with Chris’s teasing. That’s how he was. He liked to joke around.
“I miss you guys so much,” Chris said, putting his arms around both Jay and me.
“Now we’re just waiting for Mario,” Jay said.
“Wait, let’s take a groupie,” Chris said, setting up his phone.
“We’ll do it later, when Mario gets here, so we’ll be complete,” Jay suggested.
To be continued…
What Matters (1)
(A Short Story – First of 6 Parts)
I gently pressed the brake and quickly got out to assist the elderly woman who was slowly and painfully getting off. I also helped her climb into my passenger jeep earlier. I was confident that the other passengers didn’t mind the brief delay. They understood the situation. She looked so vulnerable, and I found myself wishing that a family member had been there to accompany her.
“Thank you so much, hijo. I feel incredibly fortunate to have found your jeep,” she said gratefully.
“It’s nothing, nanay. I’m just glad you chose my vehicle, even if it’s a bit old,” I replied.
“It looks just fine, hijo. And you’re a truly good driver,” she insisted.
“Thank you, nanay. Please take good care of yourself.”
She was my last passenger for the day, and as I removed the signboards from the front windshield, I made a deliberate choice to prevent anyone else from hailing me.
Although it was still just a little past noon, I was ready to call it a day. I was about to meet up with my closest high school friends—Jay, Chris, and Mario—after nearly 20 years. Over the years, there had been a few occasions when two of them would meet, but never all three together, and certainly not with me. The anticipation buzzed through me, filling me with excitement. This wasn’t just a simple reunion; it felt like a celebration of the memories we shared, a nostalgic journey back to a time when our lives were still unfolding.
It was Jay who took the lead in organizing our long-overdue reunion. Just a week ago, I found myself face-to-face with a familiar figure who flagged me down in a moment of need—his car had broken down. While I could have driven past, something about that face compelled me to stop. As I stepped out of the jeep, our eyes locked, and I was taken aback when he enthusiastically called my name. It was Jay! In an instant, we reverted to our old ways, shaking hands firmly before playfully locking arms as if preparing for a friendly wrestling match. That spark of connection ignited memories of our carefree high school days. I had no idea that this chance encounter would pave the way for rekindling friendships that have withstood the test of time. Jay’s proposed reunion promises to be an incredibly meaningful experience, and I can’t wait to see how much we’ve all transformed and grown over the years.
We were excitedly catching up while I worked on his car’s discharged battery. Jay was in a hurry because he had a meeting to attend, so we didn’t have much time to talk. Once I fixed his car, Jay pulled out some money from his wallet and tried to hand it to me. I refused to accept it. He then apologized for two reasons. First, he explained that he wanted to pay me because he knew I was on the road picking up passengers, and he felt that his car troubles had taken up my time and cost me an opportunity to earn. Second, he apologized for the inconvenience he had caused me. He was surprised when I told him that I had expected he would try to pay for that very reason. I told him that I had also helped other drivers in the past in a similar situation for free.
After that, he took out his phone and asked for my number. He said he had been looking for me for a while. I gave him my number. He dialed it so his number would register on my phone. I saved it, and after promising to call, he quickly got into his car and drove off. He seemed to be in a hurry.
Jay was one of the best in our high school class. He was the leader of our group. I was delighted we met. I had been looking for him and the rest of the gang for a long time.
It seemed that Jay had achieved his dreams. Back then, he often said he wanted to complete his studies, secure a good job, buy a car, and own a house. Now, he had a car and was wearing a coat and tie. His career appeared to be going well. I wasn’t sure if he owned a home or had a family. He probably had a house, but I couldn’t tell about his family situation. It’s a shame we didn’t get to talk for long; I didn’t even have the chance to ask him where he worked or what he did.
By the time I got home, I was still reflecting on that unexpected encounter with Jay. It made me think about my other two friends, Chris and Mario. We spent four years together, from our first year until we graduated from high school. During that time, we often discussed our dreams and life goals, and they all shared similar aspirations: complete their studies, find jobs, save money, buy a car, and own a large house. However, I wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed that Mario was the one who dreamed of working abroad. I wonder if he ever managed to do that. I hope so.
When they asked me back then what my dream was, they laughed at my answer. I wanted to be happy and live a good life. I wasn’t sure why I said that. Jay said it was vague, to which Mario agreed.
We were still young, and I had no idea what I would do after high school. Perhaps it was because I wasn’t confident that I could attend college, given my parents’ financial struggles. At that time, Chris told me I had no ambitions in life. It was only when I grew a little older and saw my siblings graduating from university that I recalled Chris actually saying I hadn’t dreamed big. Hadn’t I? Now, as we are about to have a reunion, Chris’ words come back to me.
Just then, my phone rang. As promised, Jay called.
We only talked for a short while. He had a visitor. He was calling to tell me he had contacted Chris and Mario, and both agreed to meet up next week, on Saturday around 3 in the afternoon. We were to meet at our old spot.
*****
That day, I would be with my friends again. I stopped at a carinderia for a meal. It was only 1 in the afternoon, so I still had time to eat and rest for a bit.
“Aling Tinay, I’d love to have some menudo and pinakbet, but could you please skip the fat in the menudo?”
“Mon, why do you shy away from fat? You’re the only one of my customers who doesn’t want it.”
“I’m really trying to keep my cholesterol in check.”
“Understandable, but a little indulgence now and then wouldn’t hurt! How much rice would you like?”
“Just one serving, please.”
“Two delicious dishes and only one serving of rice? You’re surprisingly health-conscious for a jeepney driver! Manny, could you please bring a serving of rice for Mon? Just don’t pile too much on; I know he won’t be able to finish it.”
“Yes, Inay,” replied Manny, Aling Tinay’s teenage son.
I just smiled at what Aling Tinay said. My stomach grew bigger when I turned 30, so I eat less rice now. I heard on the radio that eating too much rice can cause your belly to grow, and consuming pork fat is bad for your heart. They even said drinking beer regularly can also make your stomach bigger. Thankfully, I’m not much of a drinker. But with our reunion, I’m sure I’ll end up drinking with them, especially since Chris and Mario will be there. They wouldn’t let us meet without having a drink. Only Jay and I didn’t drink in the group.
“Here’s your water, no ice. I know you don’t drink cold water.”
“Thanks, Aling Tinay.”
That’s one of the reasons I always go to Aling Tinay’s carinderia whenever I have lunch while driving the jeep. She’s kind and attentive to her customers.
“Manny said you seem to be going to the gym now, like him. He said your chest and shoulder are looking great and your biceps are bulging in that t-shirt.”
“No, I don’t. The gym is too expensive. I have some barbells and dumbbells at home made of cement. I use them every morning before I drive or go to the field.”
When I started eating, Aling Tinay stopped talking to me.
It was well past 2 PM by the time I stepped out of the carinderia. I had just enjoyed a comforting cup of coffee, complemented by a few delightful cookies—generous treats from Aling Tinay, who always insisted I take them for free. She would genuinely be disappointed if I turned down her heartfelt offering. Our long-standing friendship made these moments special. She often became one of my earliest passengers in the morning on her way to the market, and I consistently chose to waive her fare, valuing our connection far more than the money.
Before I started the jeep, I wiped my body with a face towel soaked in alcohol. I changed into a new shirt and shoes. I didn’t want to show up smelling like sweat and grease or wearing worn-out slippers when meeting my friends.
In just a few minutes, I would reach our old meeting place—a basketball court near the high school where we graduated. This is where we usually hung out, especially in the afternoons after our classes. The court is located next to a wide field that is stunning to see when the rice plants are ripe and ready for harvest. Many acacia trees were planted around the court, providing shade for our morning and afternoon basketball games. Unfortunately, only a few of these trees remain, as many could not withstand the strong winds from the powerful typhoons that have passed through the area. I hope our friendship is as strong as those remaining trees. I also hope that, like those trees, my friends and I are resilient enough to endure the storms we are sure to encounter in life.
But why did it take so long to meet up, even though our barangays were so close? Maybe the reason was that they studied in Manila while I stopped studying after high school. After completing their studies, they likely found employment and settled in the area.
When I got to the meeting place, Jay was already there. I saw his car, the one that had broken down last week, parked under an acacia tree. I parked my old jeep beside his sleek car.
To be continued…
EVERLASTING (Part 5)
(Short Story / Last of 5 Parts)
I felt tremendously excited and a little bit worried for my grandmother. I cannot be mistaken. The old man who gave the card was her adorer. I wished that the old man decided to stay longer. I opened the gate. Grandma got out first.
“Where is he… where?” asked my grandmother. “My God! Why didn’t you give this to me immediately.” I scanned the part of the road where I saw the car parked. It was no longer there. In the whole neighborhood, I searched, my Grandma’s adorer was nowhere to be found.
When I returned, my grandmother stood in front of the newly-built bungalow where the old man parked his car earlier. Needless to say any word, both Grandma and I were despondent. My sadness emanated from the failed expectation that I would meet the noblest lover I have known.
The source of my Grandma’s sorrow was different, I was sure. Now, I no longer need to ask if Grandma loved her adorer. Her actions at that time betrayed her – her being so disconsolate for failing to finally see her adorer after more than four decades revealed how she truly feels for him.
We exchanged no words until we reached her room. I decided to stay with my grandmother. She had laid on the bed while I went back to continue reading Peeker’s blogs. My Grandma’s eyes were closed. I watched her intently. Even in old age, she remained elegantly beautiful, notwithstanding all those wrinkles. No wonder why her adorer fell madly in love. Later on, I noticed some tears falling from her closed eyes. At that instance, all the more that it became clear to me how she felt about her adorer.
After a few minutes, a notification about a new blog entry appeared on the laptop’s screen. After 10 years, Peeker blogged again for Charming.
“Grandma, wake up. Peeker has a new post for you!” There was no reaction from Grandma. She seemed disinterested. “Did you hear that grandma, a new post from Peeker!”
It took a while before Grandma reacted and said with her eyes still closed, “Would you like to read it aloud for me?”
“My pleasure!” I answered. With tremendous excitement, I opened the blog entry and started reading aloud.
—–
My Ever dearest Charming,
“Happy 60th birthday… Rest assured that I never stopped thinking about you. God knows I never stopped loving you.
Now I can tell you. I worked in the Middle East only for 5 years. I returned to our country after that, but I decided never to bother you. I made it appear that I stayed for good in the Middle East. Please forgive me for that.
I was there when you graduated from college and in graduate school. You just did not see me. I was there during your 30th, 40th, and 50th birthday celebrations. I was there each time that I wanted to see you. Each time I would only be watching clandestinely from a distance and through the tinted glasses of my car. How lucky I would be to see you daintily tending the flowers in your garden as my car rolled by. You know so well that just seeing you would give me immeasurable joy. But why do you seem sad whenever I see you alone in the garden?
I almost died in jealousy each time I passed by and witnessed on your terrace how gently your husband would kiss you on your cheeks and lips.
I was there also when you got married at the age of 25. You were the prettiest bride that I have ever seen. That was the most ironic moment in my life. While you were tying the knots, mine was unknotted, for it was that day when the court approved the annulment of marriage that my wife filed. I never got married again, for I vowed you would be the last woman I would love.
Why did I stop blogging for the past 10 years? Your husband got sick, and I don’t want to burden you more. I wanted you to provide him with undivided attention. When he died, I tried to respect your bereavement. I may have stopped blogging, but I never stopped tirelessly watching you from afar.
I own the bungalow nearby. I was watching when you and a young gentleman came out of the gate of your house several minutes ago. But I don’t know why until now I am afraid to face you. Perhaps I need an answer to a question I should have asked you before we parted that day.”
—–
Upon hearing that portion, my Grandma opened her eyes and excitedly exclaimed, “What did he say again?”
“Grandma, he was in his house when we searched for him. He saw us.” I retorted.
“Oh, that melodramatic fool,” my Grandma said in exasperation.
—–
“I was the happiest person on earth when I saw you. I would like to believe that you were looking for me and wanted to see me. I hope I am not so presumptuous, but under the bright light post, I saw in your face how much you wanted to see me. When you could not locate me, I saw how sad you were, the same sadness that I saw during our first and only date… it was a picnic we had then… I told you that I would be leaving for the Middle East.
Now I have one request to make. I will now allow you to comment on this post. Please answer my questions.
Do you love me? Please allow me to live the last days of my life with you.
—–
My grandmother obliged. She requested me to encode her reply to her adorer’s questions.
—–
If only you tried to show up before I got married, things would have been different. Right from the start, you have stolen my heart. You’re a thief. But I was so young and so afraid. I didn’t know what to do. I cried when you left. I cried a river. That river drowned me for a long time. I wanted to stop you from going, but I don’t know if you would listen. I was waiting for you to kiss me, embrace me, and do whatever you wanted to do to me. But you never did.
I cried every time I read your blogs. And as the days, weeks, months, and years passed, I felt how much my love for you had grown stronger.
If only you appeared in the church during my wedding, I would have ran to you and asked you to bring me anywhere you wanted. But you never did. I want to think that you’re a coward. I did not ask you to sacrifice to give me away to someone else because you always wanted to toe the line of propriety and morality. I don’t know if I would consider that sacrifice on your part or if it was cowardice. It hurt that you did not try to express your feelings for me. I would have preferred to be ridiculed by my friends and family…by society…than lose you.
You are right. I was not happy all those years because I kept waiting for you. My husband knew about you, about my feelings for you. We quarreled many times because he resented that I could not forget you until he accepted that you would always be part of me.
But I never told him about your blogs. Your blogs kept me afloat, but I preferred seeing you in flesh and blood. I waited for you to show up anytime and take me away, but you never did. My husband knows that anytime you appear, he may lose me. I hate to admit it, and may our God forgive me for this… there were nights I shared the bed with my husband, but I imagined you.
And here you are now, finally.
How cruel of you not to have blogged for the past 10 years. It was during those years that I needed you most. Not just that. You doubled my pain. For not blogging, you kept me drowned in anxiety. I did not know what happened to you. I thought you finally got tired of loving me. I thought you were sick. I thought you were dead.
How cruel of you not to have just shown up, kissed, and embraced me when I left the house earlier.
I want to see you in my garden tomorrow. If you don’t show up, forget about me.
—–
“Are you happy now?” Grandma asked. “Now you know the answers to all your questions.”
“What will you do when you see him tomorrow, Grandma?”
“I will slap that melodramatic old man!”
“Then?”
“I will embrace and kiss him! I will demand that he marries me.”
(The End)
EVERLASTING (Part 4)
(Short Story / 4th of 5 Parts)
Then I noticed that sadness gradually disappeared in the landscape of Peeker’s next blogs as weeks passed after he met Grandma.
—–
“There’s no denying that I have fallen in love with you. But it is also pointless to expect reciprocity from you. I could only dream; anyone can dream that you would love me in return. I could only wish, for there’s no limit to wishful thinking, that you should have come into my life when I had no moral restrictions.
While I ceased uselessly thrusting aside my feelings for you to God, I fervently prayed (and always pray for you) that He may keep my intentions for you pure. After that, I began noticing the good things you have done for me, something that I did not see when trying to shrug off what I felt for you. Only then did I realize how wonderful my life was turning since you came into my life? You have served as a tremendous inspiration.
With you around, I began to view life positively again. I became more passionate and creative with you everywhere in my work.”
I have promised never to let you know how I really felt for you, for I am afraid that you may no longer treat me the way you did and that even our friendship may be extinguished. But it was a risk that I had to take. I decided I must tell you, not because I wanted you to reciprocate, but I just want you to know, before I go and may never see you again, how endeared to me you have become.
—–
“So, grandma, before that 3-month program ended, did he make the big revelation?” I asked.
My grandma looked at me, paused for a while, then said, “Actually, during the last month of the program, he told me about someone serving as his inspiration, a very young woman. Then, later on, he admitted to having fallen in love with her. But no matter how pushy I was in asking him when we talk or exchange text messages to divulge her identity, he would not.”
I could sense the excitement in how Grandma relived the past. Then she continued, “During our last session for the program, he asked if we could talk that weekend in a quiet place, just the two of us. I acceded for a gentleman like him I know could be trusted. We had a picnic in a park on the outskirts of the next town. He was undeniably happy. I had never seen him so happy. I have never seen him smile genuinely or laugh so vigorously. Before, he may smile, but his eyes always radiate sadness.”
“We talked about many things but intentionally avoided touching on serious matters. He informed me that he had resigned from the university where he was teaching. After two months, he would be leaving for the Middle East, where he accepted an invitation to head the university’s English Department there.
Honestly, I became sad and momentarily speechless upon hearing that. I didn’t understand why. But I didn’t like him to notice it. I wanted to tell him not to leave the country, but I chose not to. I really did not like him to leave. I don’t know why. We spent almost the whole day in that park.”
Then I asked Grandma how his adorer told him about his feelings.
“He did not tell me anything about that young woman he fell in love with and drew so much inspiration from. Before we parted that day, though, he gave me the note I had shown you once. He requested that I open it when I got home. Which I did.”
“Ahh, I remember that card, Grandma,” I said, “But you did not allow me to read the short message it contains. Please allow me to read the note now. Please…”
Miraculously, Grandma nodded and gave me the note that she was just hiding in her purse.
“I know you will come looking for this note when I told you about this. So, I made sure you won’t find it. But here! You can see it now!” my grandma said with a taunting smile.
Finally, I got to see it. The note reads, “Falling in love with you was the most wonderful thing in my life. I only regret that it is a love that was never meant to be. Leaving was painful, but it was the best thing I must do. I have never asked anything from you in return except this one… please read my blogs whenever you have time.”
As planned, Grandma’s adorer left for the Middle East after two months. But amazingly, he continued to write blog entries for her…
—–
“I was so happy on the eve of my departure because you allowed me to call you. We chatted for almost a couple of hours. Then playfully that I asked, “Why were you born too late?”… you answered, “And why were you born too soon?” We laughed at those oft-repeated lines in a movie.
Then I asked how you felt when you learned that that young woman with whom I fell crazily in love was you. You said you didn’t know what to feel. You didn’t even know what to say at that moment. Upon hearing that, I wanted to think you are naïve, but who am I to judge you. Perhaps I was the one so naïve, putting an emotional burden on someone so young like you. I didn’t bother to push you further. Later you said you were so surprised that a person of my stature would be blinded by someone just like you that you wanted to think it was just one of those jokes I tried to play on you. I offered no explanation for that occurrence in my life – falling in love with you – was something I could not explain. It just came spontaneously. JOKE? It could be, but it is a joke that I did not play on you, but a joke that fate played on me.
Before my plane flew, I sent you several text messages. Unabashedly, I told you how much I love you. And, of course, you know what you said in return.”
—–
“Grandma, what did you tell him in response?
“I admitted that he has become a part of my life, very much a part of my life. I told him how I wished I could love him in return.”
My grandma momentarily stopped. “Hey grandma, what? What else did you tell your adorer?”
A moment of silence ensued. Grandma stared and smiled at me and answered hesitatingly, “I… I was not sure… I was too young…too confused. I didn’t know what more to say then.”
I was so disappointed with Grandma’s response. I would like to believe what Peeker said that Grandma is naïve, but who am I also to pass judgment on her.
—–
“Goodbye, Charming! The greatest pleasure that I have in my life is knowing you. Certainly, you will remain forever in my heart and mind. I will be praying for your good future. May you have a great family. As I wrote in the note I gave you after our picnic… please read my blogs whenever you have time.”
—–
How tirelessly that Peeker expressed his eternal adoration for Grandma. Her feelings for Charming seemed to have not relented through the years. He never got tired of blogging for Grandma – telling her about events in his life – asking her for prayers for his problems and difficulties – detailing his pains and grief – expressing his unfathomable affection to her. That went on and on through the years.
“Grandma, did you regularly read your adorer’s blog?” I asked.
Grandma nodded and said, “Of course, weekly, sometimes fortnightly, there were times I did it daily. I did it in secrecy, always in the wee hours of the morning when nobody would notice. But he discouraged me from giving reactions to his blogs, which I obediently followed.”
Asking Grandma again how she felt about Peeker would just be a practice in futility, for, as always, she would give a vague answer. But regularly reading his blog would mean that, at least to Grandma, her adorer is someone very special, or it could be more than that.
At 3:00 A.M., I decided to allow Grandma to rest. My thirst for information about her adorer was more than quenched. She promised to give me access to Peeker’s blogs anytime I wanted.
Then I remember the old man and the birthday card. Before leaving Grandma’s room, I gave her the said card.
” By the way, Grandma, somebody wants you to have this.” She read the card as I head out.
“Wait!” She said, “Who gave you this? Where’s he?” I have not seen Grandma so excited.
“An old man in a car parked by the roadside before I came here. I wonder if he’s still there. Why?”
To my amazement, Grandma got a jacket and scurried downstairs while wearing it. I followed her immediately.
EVERLASTING (Part3)
(Short Story / 3rd of 5 Parts)
He admitted being so stupid for feeling how he felt because my grandmother was so young at that time, almost half his age. He admitted to being inappropriate because he was already married then.
“Ahh, those were why you did not love him in return, you were half his age, and he’s married?” Right Grandma? I inquired.
“Just keep on reading, will you!” was Grandma’s response.
I expected she would finally tell me directly how she felt about her adorer. It was again a futile attempt. I just continued reading.
—–
“I have laughed off Francis Bacon’s thesis about love. He said that love is similar to the stage. It is filled with tragedy, comedy, mischief, and fury. I thought it was a shallow analogy. But now here I am, sounding like an actor in a play delivering a soliloquy. And I am not sure when this will end… when I end talking to myself. “
“This is a comedy. I made myself my own laughingstock. And I am almost certain you are laughing now at my stupidity.”
—–
I paused reading again and asked my grandma, “Did you consider all these kinds of stuff stupidity, grandma?”
“Never! Why should I?” was her curt reply.
When I continued, I suddenly laughed (and my grandma was amused) when I read that portion of the adorer’s blog where he admitted he was crazy thinking of grandma almost every moment. The following lines are similar to the content of my video message to a pretty classmate I was wooing at that time. The next were the words I told that lady, “I think of you almost every moment…before sleeping at night, I would think of you. I would see you in my dreams, and when I woke up, the image of your pretty smiling face would greet me. You seemed to have established omnipresence in my consciousness. Your image is present in the books I read, in the movies I watch, in the sky, in the trees, EVERYWHERE!
Then I continued reading the blogs…
—–
” I have disagreed with Bacon when he posited that ‘it is impossible to love and to be wise.’ It is equivalent to saying that love makes a person crazy. I disagreed, but here I am swirling around my own disagreement.”
“Funny, but I considered kinds of stuff like these childish. I hate being dramatic. But it’s exactly what I have become.”
“What have you done to me? Most of my working hours were spent daydreaming about you. The first time that something like this happened to me. I never paid so much attention to a lady, and never had I almost begged to be given attention in return. There were women I dated who were as pretty and charming as you are but more sophisticated and schooled. But none of them charmed me the way you did. None of those beautiful and successful women made me feel and act so strangely this way. It was only you – a youngster – someone who has yet to prove her worth. You rendered my training in Philosophy worthless, for in matters about you, I have become illogical.”
“Yeah, I hate to admit it, but what happened is plain stupidity. This should not be, but I am so helpless. People at a certain stage in their lives commit stupid acts and say stupid things they may regret. Is this my turn?”
—–
“Gosh, Grandma, are you sure you are not a witch? I would like to think that you gave this man some potion.”
My grandma just gave me a smile and a loving nudge on my nape in response. “I would say that he had really gone crazy over you. How did he cope? I hope that your most ardent adorer did nothing stupid.”
Grandma smiled and said, “He is a decent man! He did nothing wrong! I did not know about his feelings, his predicaments, or the pain I caused him. He kept those to himself for a long time! Everything seemed normal when we talked personally, on the phone, or exchanged text messages! Okay, just read on.”
Read on. I did. I passed by entries that vividly elucidated the man’s emotional struggles, the predicament I hoped I would never be able to undergo.
—–
“That night, I went to the riverbank where I would have my reflections every time I would be emotionally burdened. Falling in love was supposed to be a wonderful feeling, but why it has become an emotional struggle for me. It has brought me more sadness than joy.
No, the sadness was not a product of guilt for falling in love with another woman when I had already tied the knot with another one. Not even for falling in love with someone so young. The moral purists may disagree, but falling in love is never wrong. Falling in love per se is not a sin. The subsequent acts committed to pursuing the feeling would determine whether it’s sinful. Ahh, I am clearly trying to justify my stupidity.”
—–
Falling in love is a beautiful experience, but the adorer’s seemingly hopeless struggle to shrug off the feeling prevents him from experiencing the joy of falling in love. He said that he tried so hard to suppress the emotion. But to no avail. The adorer admitted having his ways with women. He knew how to make women fall in love but never tried any trick on my grandmother.
The adorer wished that he could circumvent the existing moral standards so he would not suffer from his ethical dilemma or that he could have been born in a culture that would not give him such prohibitions.
—–
“I know I can love you but never have you. I can love you, for nobody has the right to prevent me from feeling what I have felt for you. As hard as I did, I could not restrain my heart from falling in love with you.
But I can never have you for obvious reasons. That I needed to accept wholeheartedly my love for you is a love that was never meant to be.
It was also pride, not guilt, preventing me from experiencing the joy of falling in love. I found it hard to accept that a young woman like you could put me on an emotional leash. But that also is a reality I have to accept. I gladly put in your hands that emotional leash. Make me happy, make me sad. Do as you wish!
Could this be my karma? I used to be the one who held the handle of the emotional leash.”
—–
I sympathized deeply with the man for all the emotional struggles he underwent because of his love for Grandma. What could be more painful than finally finding true love in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and under the wrong circumstances? What a crazy fate! This stuff, I thought, I would only read in stories and watch in movies.
In one blog entry, he mentioned how sad he became one night when he heard the song “Please Don’t Ask Me.” I sympathized so profoundly when he said that the line in the song that hit him the hardest was… “It only hurts the more I pretend that we could ever be more than friends.”
Several other blog entries dealt with how wholeheartedly my grandma’s adorer accepted the realities that confronted him – the truth that only a youngster like my grandma then would drive him nuts – the reality that he could love my grandma, but he could never have her – the reality that they could never be more than friends.
Then I noticed that sadness gradually disappeared in the landscape of Peeker’s next blogs as weeks passed after he met Grandma.
EVERLASTING (Part 2)
(Short Story / 2nd of 5 Parts)
The door in her bedroom was ajar, slowly that I pushed it open. I was right, she was there, and from the looks of it, she was already asleep. I waited for this moment for so long, and yet Grandma just slept on me and forgot about her promise. I felt disappointment slowly creeping in, but I knew our grand old lady needed that rest.
After a few seconds, I decided to leave and no longer disturb my grandmother.
“Hey, don’t tell me you’re no longer interested to know my secret. Get back in here. My laptop’s open. It’s here beside me. I have already opened his blog.” That was Grandma just before I closed the door.
Excitement readily dislodged the disappointment I was beginning to feel earlier. Finally, the moment had come – the moment when my thirst for knowing more, if not everything, about my grandma’s mysterious adorer would be quenched.
I jumped into my grandma’s bed and started to manipulate her laptop. Attached to her laptop computer was an old but reliable wireless broadband gadget. She requested additional pillows on her head and back so she could also see what I was doing.
The man’s blog was so old-fashioned, as old-fashioned as the birthday card given to me by that old man earlier. There were no video and audio appendages similar to the blogs of my time. It only looked like a plain online diary encoded in a colorfully-designed template.
It was the man’s profile I paid attention to first. To my dismay, his real name was not indicated. What was there was just PEEKER, obviously a pseudonym. There was limited information as well – no age, no address. It was only his profession he cared to divulge – educator-writer.
“Grandma, what’s his name?” I asked casually.
“Secret!” She naughtily retorted. Insisting was pointless because I have tried asking the same thing before, but Grandma would not divulge his name.
“Okay, just tell me where he is now.”
“How I wished I had known.” I paused when I heard that from Grandma. There was sadness in her tone. It was intriguing. But I was happy with her response because somehow, she started to open up about her adorer and unwittingly gave me the slightest inkling of how she felt for him.
When I finished the profile, I started to open the blog entries. I was surprised by the sheer volume of entries in Peeker’s blog. In the archive section, I saw that he had entries from 2009 to 2041. However, he stopped blogging in the past 10 years. Coincidentally, those were the years that my grandpa suffered from cancer until he succumbed to the illness 5 years ago.
What’s more striking was that he blogged exclusively for a woman he fondly calls Charming.
“Yes, that’s the name he christened me with – Charming.” That was Grandma’s response when I inquired about the name. Then I scrolled back to the entries in 2009. My grandma then was just in college. Then I began reading…
The blog entries, with each one always beginning with the salutation “To my Ever Dearest Charming,” were very long. Through the first blog he published for Grandma in May 2009, I learned he was a professor at a reputable university invited to conduct a one-day leadership seminar in the college where Grandma was studying.
In one part of the blog entry, Peeker wrote…
—–
“You gatecrashed into my life when you attended the seminar which I conducted at your school. Of the many participants who came, you easily caught my attention. Not only because you are pretty with so smooth skin. I am used to seeing beautiful young women. But there was something exceptional about you. Your eyes radiate some kind of magic. When I looked into your eyes, I got myself charmed and bewitched. Our eyes met, you smiled, and at that very moment, there was something I felt. I could not understand if it was what they call love at first sight. I was uncertain. I felt I was too old for such kinds of stuff. But I am certain that the feeling was something special, something so disturbing – so special and disturbing that that very night I would keep thinking about you until I decided to open my website and put you and this experience in my blog. This is very funny. And yes… very inappropriate! Thankfully, that would be my first and last time seeing you. Soon, you’ll be forgotten.”
—–
“Grandma, did you ever see him again after the seminar?” I inquired.
Grandma responded in the affirmative, “He was hired by the college as the facilitator of the 3-month English proficiency program for selected students. I was one of those students, and whether we liked it or not, we were destined to see each other again.”
Indeed, whether they liked it or not, their destinies intertwined at that juncture. Their paths crossed, inevitably. Grandma told me that the program her adorer supervised for three months in their university was done thrice a week.
In Peeker’s next blog entry, his emotional predicament was so apparent.
—–
“I don’t know if I would consider that 3-month job offered as a blessing or a curse. Instead of being forgotten, you got embedded deeper into my consciousness. Each time we will have a session, I try to avoid looking into your eyes, not only because I may get distracted in the performance of my tasks but also for fear that all the more that you will get me charmed and bewitched. But not looking at you is like forgetting to breathe. I did not like to deprive myself of the simple joy that your presence brings.”
“Instead of avoiding you, I befriended you. I asked for your mobile phone number and your e-mail. Each time I would plan to make a conscious effort to avoid you, all the more that my feet would drag me closer to you. I have frequently talked and exchanged text messages with you since then. At first, we discussed matters concerning the program I was conducting in your school. Later, we explored various topics, including our personal lives.”
—–
The adorer admitted in his blog that there were rules of propriety that he violated when he befriended my grandma. He unabashedly realized that not long after they became friends, he could confirm what he was so afraid of…that he was in love with my grandmother.
M.A.D. LIGAYA
M.A.D. L I G A Y A 