There are times that, as eyes often tend to believe what they’re seeing, I buy to some popular idea that “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” This happened again last Saturday when as I sent off my mother at the airport early in the morning, I coincidentally met “Christmas,” my friend A’s—to borrow some word of the world—ex-flame.
Flame, in a sense each time Friend A saw her then, directly or surreptitious manner, a fiery sensation deep within his heart would strike after, consume his whole chest uninterruptedly as if it’d be burning forever and not even the strong hose of Fire Department could totally stop, much less deter.
Yeah, Christmas is just one of those so-called purely innocent and ignorant Apples of the Eye. The kind of creature who doesn’t know she’s loved by other creatures who are, for them, ready to die. You ask me, how did I know he’d be ready to give his life for her if she’d only love him either? I was Friend A's confidant, adviser, schemer, sketcher, in an exchange with, well, “thirty pieces of silver.”
He didn’t bother to let “Christmas” know his flaming feeling anymore after I divulged to him I found out she was already then a fiancée of B, my other friend. For I told him he should do it by himself alone peradventure he’d insist of joining in the scene, as I was so afraid that B would perceive me a traitor in the end.
And many days later I was told that lovestruck Friend A abandoned his plot, begrudgingly backed off without the benefit of being shouted at, like allegedly the way former First Gentleman did Joey De Venecia during their spat, a tug-of-war starring Benjamin Abalos too anent delicious government contract.
I was truly surprised to see “Christmas” in the same youthful beauty and figure, if not in better shape making her more beautiful. She, along with her four-year-old also cute daughter, would go to Metro Manila to meet her homecoming husband, a licensed seafarer. I was more surprised, knowing that Friend B, although a son of ex-Navy, far more than corrupt government officials, hated all his life the sea.
And I immediately confirmed my suspicion through concise and brief conversation: like other couples who were tied together by true love and affection, her relationship with Friend B ended up as well in thankless separation.
When I mentioned about that other friend who, without her knowing, was head over heels on her and everything, she blushed like a blooming maiden and, I’m not sure if she was only half-joking, told me she got a mighty crush on him.
I nearly fell off my seat at the airport bench, and without any follow-up question about him, she told me she still remembered Friend A’s hand-sketched Christmas cards to her sent with a four-line poem. I gave my forehead a hard, unintentional slap, and when I sighed and pretended to be sad, she gave me a hearty laugh.
I just followed her with my smile and “pa-cute” stares after she bid goodbye together with her child who approached the departure entrance so fast. And I looked again at my hand holding a certain amount in cold cash, which she gave me quick before she left, as “pang-meryenda” and “pang-Christmas.”
I returned to serious mode after they disappeared completely, for I was not sure honestly who’d be the more to pity, her or me. Her, for I didn’t let her know the feeling of my love-crazy friend. And me, for I didn’t know she fell in love with my hand-drawn cards, she believed was A’s, with a four-line poem.
I was tempted, like Judas Iscariot, to repent and return Friend A’s then grease money, then run after her, tell her the truth, just to set what I also felt then free. But a big difference was always between us, if not total contrast, like yesterday and today. Like the East and the West, and ne’er the twain shall meet, absolutely. Like, while she’s as if frozen in time with her ever lovely long hair in pitch black, I can do nothing but let the whole world view my hoary head and silvery locks.
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