Should've Been

It should’ve been seven years now, until…

You walked leisurely that afternoon as if you didn’t have anything to do. I knew you had an important engagement because clearly jotted on our shared planner was a red cross on this date. You insisted me on keeping this planner, on always referring to this planner, because between the two of us, it was me who had the tendency to forget.

That’s how you wanted our lives be – simple yet calculated, organised, systematic. Up to know I still could not fathom your definition of these words, for I have been putting up with a world full of complications and uncertainties. Maybe, it’s because I was raised to view the beauty and madness of life through words, while you grew wrestling with it through mathematical equations.

As you drew closer, I understood why you chose to walk at that pace.

I singed my lungs with another stick of Marlboro, unconscious of the blot I created on the red mark on the planner. You passed by the tree we chose to stay whenever we got hold of a time we were deprived of. It was you who picked this tree out of hundreds that queued like a battalion of police during rallies, for, as you mentioned, we had to steer clear of the prying eyes of our bosses who considered what we were doing “underground.”

I knew you remember this tree bore witness to how we put the pieces together to weave our dreams, mixing up letters and dictionary with numbers and calculator. It started with your smile, which encapsulated everything you wanted to crop up. You were a man of a few words; it didn’t take an oratorical piece (which you are good at) to deliver your messages - your eyes spoke louder than your mouth.

After several minutes of looking at the tree, you lighted up the cigarette and proceeded to Vinzons Hill where I was sitting uncomfortably. Shiver started to slither through my system, for it was very seldom that you smoke.

It became clearer to me why your brisk walk, which you were known for (aside from a lot of things) suddenly changed.

You looked tired, even with your new haircut. A week prior to this meeting, you suddenly went mad when I laughed upon seeing your new cut. Carrying your bag full of mathematical/statistical tools I did not recognise, you hauled me at the parlor and made me direct to the hairdresser what your look should be. I never told you that you looked good whatever your hair style is, it was just I preferred you to look like a rockstar with an unkempt hair than a weakling member of a boy band.

You never grew tired of using the pair of shoes that was identical to mine; even it’s obvious it started to look worn out. From the trendy shoes that you wore alternately every day, you settled on using the brown Adidas you saw me wearing during a ManCom. You gave me a brown watch I was salivating after, only to find out it matched with your Timex. Y

our slowness could not be denied, it was as if you were carrying all the angst of the world. The moon started to surface, being chased by Polaris.

Polaris, I could still recall how important it was to us. During my three-month excursion somewhere in Bicol, I was able to maintain my sanity by just looking at the North Star. You said all I needed was to take a peek of the star. I religiously did, without knowing that that was what you did to make your mind intact while I was away.

Finally, you sat beside me still puffing the Marlboro menthol. For the first time, you did not call my attention for burning my lungs to a crisp. The usual sermon on the death by smoking and on helping multinational corporations become richer by smoking unexpectedly broke off, eclipsed by the silence that was more deafening than the chant during the UP Budget Cut rally.

The night was ideal to play hide and seek with our bosses. Nights such as this we usually raced together until we reached our final destination. You touched me, I was ready to run.

Instead you held my hand tightly. You looked straight at me and smiled. It was followed by a tear which launched a thousand Atomic bombs inside me. You did not say a word at all. You just reached for my cheeks, and set off.

My heart was far more devastated than Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I clasped the planner firmly with the red mark on that date already unrecognisable, washed away by gallons of tears oozing out of my tired eyes.

When I regained my composure, I placed the planner to where you sat and watched it reduced into ashes.