“…for the past no matter how distant is as much as part of me as life itself…”
- Beyond Forgetting
He stood there in oblivion while I was quite a few meters away from him. He gazed at me with twinkling eyes while I gazed up with twinkling eyes at my fiancée.
No, this was not a typical story. I would not have wanted to call it our love story either because there was never really us. Well, there was, but not really.
He knew then that I was not a free woman. Not free in a sense that I was already engaged to someone else. Moreover, I was engaged to his first class and he was my fiancée’s plebe. We did not meet at that time but our paths crossed when he finally stepped up his first class year, when he had his first taste of what it was like to be suspended in half heavens.
For a while I was convinced that I was doing my foster sister stint while he was playing his role as my foster brother, like six of his classmates were. He was not even my closest brother. During my visits he would come up to me once or twice to say hello and to thank me for the boodles and that was that. We send occasional sweet messages but that was just that.
I guess electric currents started rushing in when I called each and every foster brother to greet them for the holidays. No, I did not feel anything going through the telephone lines but after that, our messages came pouring in. We would often exchange our philosophies in life and he’d even write to me about love. And when he did, I would sense the scent of dismay in his messages. Perhaps dismay over my situation, dismay that he couldn’t go overboard than being a brother. What he did not know was that there was dismay curling up inside me too, because many times he made mention of this girl he so much loved but things didn’t work out so he just had to let go. And the most difficult part for him was that the girl he loved so much was not the same girl he’s with at that moment.
A part of me ached for his pain…and for the other part of me that hurt, I’ve yet to find out what it’s meant for.
We gradually became close through letters and short messages and when he’s on his leaves in Manila and during his one month vacation after graduation, we’d go out and watch movies, dine out and sometimes go to parties. Sometimes we’d just be caught up in good conversation over coffee and he’d pour out his heart to me, how much he cried in my arms when he felt guilty over his situation. I let him on in my life and gave him a picture of it, a big one. I really didn’t know why I did, I just felt I had to. We became subtly physical, holding hands for friendship and a hug or two when we need assurance. But then again, that was just that…or so I thought.
During one of his letters, he had opened up that love thing again and the hints of dismay echoed once more. But this time, he cannot be silenced for this time he said he’d fallen in love with me and my reply admitted that I’ve fallen in the pit, too. And when we’ve finally said the magic words, the puzzle that was almost finished lost some of its pieces.
Our times together were “take-life” but wonderful. He’d taken me up to meet his relatives and they had loved me, had loved us. His family loved me too and they kept on mentioning about us having kids and our wedding. On the contrary, he couldn’t even stay longer at my house. People were starting to look beyond our eyes and we were worried they just might see right through us. But we were happy, anyway. We were convinced we had something going on. He took the risk of being with me despite my predicament and he hoped with all his heart that we could hurdle this one. Our love was strong for both of us, it kept both of us yearning for another moment with each other.
He had insisted that I take a miniature of his class pendant, which I willingly accepted because he had my name etched on it. He even came close to giving me his miniature ring but I declined as I showed him my fiancée’s miniature ring on my right hand. He understood. He gave me a sliver band instead.
It had begun. He left his girlfriend for me. He loved me and I loved him. Yes, curse me all you want for I was a two-timer. But not long after that, I had told myself that I had come to love him more.
But with all the wedding preparations for me going in and out of my personal space, I had to finally let him go. I had chosen the man I couldn’t live without and sadly it was not he. We said our goodbyes but with hearts and heads constantly looking back, wishing one of us would turn around and face the odds…and defy destiny. But as the distance grew, no one budged. I guess he took what I said as the end while I posted it as a challenge.
I happily wed after that. He was even there at my wedding wearing his white duck and misty eyed as I said, “I do.” I did not see him among the bachelors when my groom threw his garter. I was not even sure if he even made it to the reception.
I lived a normal married life and although no one knew of my most tearing moments, I never regretted my decision. Truly, my husband was the one carefully handcrafted for me. He was a wonderful father as he took care of our five kids. He was even a more wonderful partner as he provided me with the love and support I needed. Sometimes I even wonder why I doubted that he’d be the one.
And as for that special man I once loved, I never heard from him after I saw him on my wedding day. I get news of his whereabouts from my foster brothers once in a while. No one in his group knew about us, and I guess no one ever will. Ours will just be a memory of the past, a prolific dream.
I never thought I’d see him again, much more talk to him, but I did, almost a year ago.
Now after many many years, we stand here both in oblivion. He stands here with his wife as he gazes up at his daughter with twinkling eyes while I stand here with my husband as I gaze up at my son with teary ones. Today, they will join hands in marriage and hopefully outlive what we once had…if ever there was truly us.
July 2002
/mleranario/
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