Summer Meeting

I do not know exactly what it was that prompted me to do it, but after my second year of college, I contacted Jackie once more. I wrote her a letter. It was a long letter. Handwritten, it was four pages long. It reminds me of the song with the same lyrics: “I’m writing you a four page letter…”

What did I write? I no longer remember. I must have said some sorries in there, and also reminded her that I had forgiven her, but it was still difficult to forget a few things. I told her everything that I had wanted to say from the first day to the last. I told her how I felt about her after high school, and what it felt like once more to have contact with her just five to six months before that moment.

Maybe the reason I do not remember it all is because the words are no longer important to me. What mattered was that I made contact.

I also sent her a copy of the long poem that I had written because I felt like it described what I was feeling and thinking better than any other words that I could have said to her. Whether or not she was able to understand the Tagalog verses of it is a mystery to me.

The one thing that I distinctly remember telling her in that letter was that I wanted to see her once again, even if for just one day or one minute. In fact, I told her when and where I wanted to see her, in a neutral location free from memories. I also informed her that it was up to her whether she wanted to show up. My conditions were simple: she could meet me at the prescribed location at the prescribed time or she could just ignore it. If she did not show up, I promised her that I would no longer try to contact her in any way; I would forever step out of her life and that letter would be the last she ever heard from me.

I folded the pages together and sealed them in an envelope addressed to her house, assuming that she had not moved since graduating from high school. Knowing that she went to school to one of the nearby colleges, I felt it safe to assume as much.

After placing the stamp on it and slipping it into the mail slot, all I could do was wait. My plans were to meet her on a Wednesday afternoon the week after at a coffee house. After that was anybody’s guess.

One day later, I received a phone call. It was Jackie. She was calling my cell phone. Not knowing the number on the display, I picked it up, feeling that maybe it could have been her, which actually made me more reluctant to answer.

“Hello?”

She answered on the other end of the line and informed me that she had received my letter. Her tone was steady. Mine was nonchalant.

Then, she informed me that she was busy that coming Wednesday and asked if we could move the day. I was open to any suggestion as long as the conditions still held true. She asked if we could instead meet the day after—Thursday—so I obliged her request.

“Okay,” I said to her. “I’ll see you then.” And just as quickly as the call had come, the conversation ended.

Those were my very last words to her. I still felt some bitterness towards her, so I wanted to cut the call short. I preferred to talk to her in person rather than over the phone. After all, that was what I stated in my letter. I was going to stick to it, especially now that she had requested a change of days, herself.

I did not tell her that I would call her back, nor did I tell her that I would call her that following Thursday. What I said was all I said. “I’ll see you then.”

Again, I waited.

The week passed along well enough. I would go to school during that summer to tutor summer school students. A few regulars had begun frequenting the tutoring center to escape the heat and use me to their advantage. I did not mind. My pay was reasonable and the air conditioning was free. Some of the students I tutored were becoming more than just acquaintances, so my time was not wasted.

The Thursday came, and I went to the prescribed meeting location. I ordered a vanilla crème blended drink and sat down at a table near a window, facing one of the doors. I sipped my drink and opened my book. Then, I simply let the time pass, reading and waiting.

After one hour, I was still one of the only customers inside, still reading my borrowed book and sipping on my drink.

Two hours passed. Then three hours. The fourth hour came, and there was still no sign of Jackie. I did not understand why she would call to change the meeting date and not show up. But, on the other hand, I fully understood that if she no longer wanted to see me, she was never obliged to do so ever again.

I managed to get halfway through Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code that day, eventually finishing it the day after because its story was just so exciting.

As the fourth hour closed, I closed my book and stood up. I threw my drink in the trash as I walked out of the coffeehouse and admired the color in the sky. Next-door was a fast food Italian restaurant that had a drive-thru. As I drove out of my space, I headed for the drive-thru window and then drove directly home.

That was that. I never called or wrote Jackie again. In return, she never called or wrote me either. I am still fulfilling my end of the prescribed conditions that I will no longer have anything to do with her life.

It felt like such a sad ending to such a long story and a major part of my teenage life. Stories never ended that way in movies and on television. There was always something more exciting. My story, however, merely ended like the predicted end of the universe: not with a bang, but a cold chill.

That September, I turned 20. I was no longer a teen. I also began my third year in college, soon to involve myself in the most daunting of the upper division physics classes required for my degree.

I just could not believe that it was finally over. And, just like after everything I finish, all I could do was sit back and wonder what was to come next.

The Next Verse

The end of the spring quarter was drawing near (2004), and so was my second year of college. It also meant that my second quarter of Tagalog class was ending, and our final presentations were coming up that June.

The quarter before, during winter, our Tagalog 10A class had to do group presentations in the form of skits using the Tagalog/Filipino that we had learned. This spring quarter, our Tagalog 10B class had to do the same, using the more complicated verbs that we learned. In addition, the Tagalog 10A class that was also being taught concurrently had to do their own skits/presentations during the final day.

To add to my final presentation, the professor personally asked me to do lyrical piece for the final day. My classmate was also asked to sing a song in Tagalog that day. We agreed, knowing that we were probably the most fluent in the class (which may have been a bit unfair to the curve).

I debated with myself on which piece I should do, because during the regular class, I had already submitted a few Tagalog pieces (rhythmic poetry) that I had written as part of our “laboratory” assignments. I decided to go with the only other piece I had up my sleeve, which was my story about my time with Jackie. (See “My Solace” 2007.03.12 and “Sunny Rain” 2007.03.19)

The problem I had, however, was that the second part of the piece was all in English, and I was in a Tagalog class. Quickly I worked on a translation/new piece that would go well with the first verse. Here is what came about:

Kinalimutan kita; dalawang taon nilampasan
Nakarating ang panahon na di na kita inaasahan
Pero biglang pinag-alala ng iyong kaibigan
Noong isang araw na di na kita pinag-iisipan
Sumulat ka ng liham; pinaliwanag mo sa akin
Kung bakit ka ganoon noon, at sa’kin ay inamin
Bumalik ang gunitang bulok at naintindihan ka
Pero ayaw ko naman itong matapos na masama
Kaya ngayon naman pinagbibigyan kita
Gusto ko lang kasing malaman kung mabuti ka pa
Alam ko naman kung saan ka nag-i-eskwela
Kailangan ko lang yata na ika’y aking makita
Ng aking mata, kahit ‘sang beses man lang
Para magpaalam at masabi ko ang
Nasa aking utak na ukol sa’yo
Kasi lahat nito’y talagang nakakagulo

Roughly translated, it reads:

I forgot you (intentionally); two years went past
The time came when I no longer longed for you
But suddenly your friend gives a reminder
The one day when I no longer thought of you
You wrote a letter; you explained to me
Why you were that way before, and you admitted to me
Rotten memories returned, and you were understood
But I don’t want this to end badly
That is why I am forgiving you now
I just want to know if you are still doing well
I already know where you go to school
I just think that I need to see you
With my eyes, even just one time
Just to say goodbye and to say what
Is on my mind about you
Because all of this is really confusing

This is where the title of this whole thing actually comes from, “Nakakagulo.” The whole piece put together, the first verse, the English parts, and this part, are collectively entitled, “Talagang Nakakagulo,” which means really confusing, when used in that context.

It is what I honestly felt for her at the time, and I did not know that all of it would come out that way and in those words. It was a very short summary of what had happened since I last spoke with her during high school: I forgot about her, her friend reminds me of her, she writes me to explain what she did, and then old memories return. I went on to describe the fact that I did not really want things to end the way they already had—with some sour emails from me to her. All I really wanted was to see her again, say goodbye if need be, and just talk, because it really was confusing.

The confusion was originally between Adrienne and Jackie. Afterwards, however, the confusion was because I did not know if Jackie really liked me or not. Towards the end, I was simply confused about what to do with her, because I finally knew her reasons, but there was no way to take anything back. It really just sums everything up until that point.

I ended up performing the Tagalog portions of “Talagang Nakakagulo” in front of both Tagalog classes on the day of the final presentations, commenting that for the people that cannot understand, it was okay, because it just kept me safe (from them knowing about my past). The most interesting thing to me was that Kyleen was in the room (part of the Tagalog 10A class), while I was performing the piece. I knew that she probably did not understand a single word I said, and if she did, she probably did not know that the friend I was referring to was her.

In a way, I wanted Kyleen to know what was going on, so that she could laugh along with me at the irony, and at the same time, so that she could maybe help me. On the other hand, I did not want her to know because it would have complicated things between us. From how she spoke to me, and how nonchalant she was about talking to me about Jackie’s whereabouts, I knew that Jackie had probably not told her anything about me. I suspected that even at that time, Jackie had probably not told a soul about me.

I respect her decisions about that. It was too weird of a story to share with anyone. I doubt that she had even told Charmane or Lysette about me; it was even more unlikely that she told her older sister or mother. She was the one who wanted them to think that the two of us had met through a friend, rather than AOL. Furthermore, I doubt that I even played a big enough role in her life to mention me to anyone. That thought kind of makes me a bit sad, but it is her business, not mine.

I do appreciate her efforts to reconcile things with me in the first place earlier that December, no matter how difficult I may have been to communicate with. That gesture meant that I at least was a big enough part of her story that I warranted an explanation, even if it was only in the form of an email. That is probably the thing that I respect about her most—her effort to reconcile matters with me, under her own volition.

In the past, it was always me who had to provoke a conversation out of her; I was the one who put in the effort to talk and communicate. That time around, however, she was the one who struck first. I never thanked her for doing that, although I did thank her for explaining things to me.

She changed my life, and my perspectives on life, just by being a part of it. I guess that is the most I can ask out of her. I am glad that her experience with me also prompted her to change for the better (so she says).

After further thinking, I resolved to attempt a final contact with her that summer, so that I could finally say my “goodbye” to her, and tie up any loose ends. That was the only thing left for me to do, I thought, so that was exactly what I did, or at least tried to do.

Then And Now [Part 2]

The night of the induction banquet that late May 2004 (around Memorial Day weekend), I arrived with my date, Francine, with our matching brown and pink attire. It was no doubt that she was one of the most beautiful underclass(wo)men there. Her choice of outfit also made me the only guy that night to sport a fully pink dress shirt, which I was not at all embarrassed to wear because of the person who had been on my arm—after all, I had to get a shirt that matched the brown and pink tie.

My friend John (not his real name) arrived in full banquet attire with Kyleen, sporting a baby blue/turquoise scheme. I was not at all jealous of them, because I already had a wonderful date of my own, but if anyone had been paying attention, I did steal glances towards Kyleen whenever I could. I still had some attraction to her, and it was not only because of her looks.

We all ate the buffet-served food, and then inducted the new board members. I passed the candle to the next Academic Chairperson, signifying the passing of the torch. Afterwards, we danced the night away, taking some pictures in between. It certainly was the prom that I never attended in high school, because this time around I had a date with me.

After dancing with Francine for a while, we took a rest. It was a little obvious that someone else had wanted to ask her out before I did; I was just the one who did it first. In fact, I knew that there were at least three other guys that wanted to ask Francine before me. One of them, however, was able to steal her away from me for most of the night—they were closer friends with each other, and I knew I was partly in the way, so I let them have their time.

In the meantime, I stole someone else’s date away—that someone being my friend John and the date being Kyleen. It seemed that he was mingling with the older crowd, knowing that he was about to graduate soon, so he took his last moments to heart. In a way, then, everything worked out just fine: my date got to hang out with her close friend who had wanted to go with her in the first place, and I got to hang out with Kyleen, who I originally wanted take to the banquet.

We danced for a long time thereafter, only taking a one break after a long stint on the dance floor. It was just how I wanted it. She was a great dancer, of course, having been part of the hip-hop dance troupe, and it made it even more fun to be around her at the time. Really, she was just a very nice person overall (some people may even say that she is too nice). All of her wonderful characteristics just made being around her even better.

One of the most interesting things that I realized as an afterthought was that four years prior (April 2000), the scene was very similar, except that I was dancing with Jackie—one of Kyleen’s best friends in high school. After having realized that, I just had to laugh to myself. During my sophomore year of high school, I found myself dancing at a formal with the very attractive Jackie, and then four years later, during my sophomore year of college, I was dancing with Jackie’s very attractive friend, Kyleen. I almost felt guilty about it. (Notice the keyword there is “almost”.)

I knew that I still liked Jackie somewhere deep down inside. As my friend would put it nowadays: I still had a soft spot for her. But, spending time with someone like Kyleen seemed to cure the pain. I knew there was no way that I would ever end up with Kyleen, as in a relationship, but it was still nice to pretend (to myself) just for one night.

These days, I still find it funny when I remember that night, and the situation I found myself in. It was a very funny coincidence that those events coincided with each other four years apart. What made that night even better, though, was that there was no mention of Jackie whatsoever, like there had always been between myself and Kyleen. It was almost as if the two nights were completely unrelated, but destiny just has a funny way of working things out like that.

In the end, I took my date home and my friend John did the same for his. All I had were simply memories and few pictures.

I have to admit, however, that afterwards (not immediately, but eventually), I thought about Jackie again. I still did not know what to do with her, or if there was even anything more to do at all. I was top-toeing around the idea of contacting her once more to make amends, and maybe even start over, feeling that the last words that I said to her may have been a bit too harsh. I was definitely regretting a few things then.

Then And Now [Part 1]

The winter quarter passed, somewhat all too slowly on the personal portion of my life, and all too quickly on the academic side. It was 2004, and there were two years left before I graduated.

I decided to forget about Jackie from that point on, knowing that there was nothing really left for me to say to her. I may have just been lying to myself, though, because I knew that I wanted to see her still, at least to just see how she was doing, or maybe to just give a proper goodbye. I did not really know what I wanted. The hopelessly romantic side of me wished that fate would give me another twist so that I can just start over again. Lo and behold, a few months later, fate came answering, but the twist was not what I thought it would be.

Towards the beginning of the spring quarter of my second year in college, I had already started hanging out more with the local guys. I had made new friends and acquaintances because of the cabinet position I held with the local Pilipino student organization. It was really a different experience from high school.

Along with some of the soon-to-graduate seniors and a fellow second-year, we formed this so-called “observation deck,” which mostly was a close equivalent to what girls call “girl talk.” In plain terms, it was so that the guys could speak gossip and talk behind the backs of the girls (in the club). Its basis was really questionable to me, but what we discussed opened my eyes. There were things that I did not know about the other members that painted them in a whole new light.

Anyway, during one of our sessions out at the second local Starbucks (there were two within the same plaza, one block apart), someone got to talking about the upcoming banquet. It was an annual banquet to induct newly elected cabinet officers for the club—something I attended the year before (May 2003). This year, as it apparently happened every year, the guys started talking about whom they would be going with.

In short, it was our college equivalent to a prom/formal. I had asked someone the year before, but failed to acquire a date. I went alone, and it was an okay experience. Because I had gained new ties within the club and knew more people my second-year, I was more than willing to try again. The discussion amongst the men boiled down to whom would be the perfect date. (Come to think of it, this may have happened at someone’s house rather than at the Starbucks.)

Everyone started spitting out the names of the most beautiful active women in the club, including a few that I had been “eyeing.” When it became my turn to give a suggestion (and a hint to which girl I would ask), I simply told the truth and said, “Kyleen.”

One of our older friends quickly reacted and ascertained my contribution to the discussion. He admitted that he had overlooked her because she was not as active as the other girls in the club, but she would definitely have been his first choice. Verbally, though, he “let me have” the opportunity to ask her first.

That May 2004, we collaborated with Kyleen’s hip-hop dance troupe and another club to throw a type of sports and dance competition weekend. It was the fourth of its kind. It was the same event where I saw Kyleen perform the year before, catching my attention. For the duties, I was assigned to make the programs that were to be handed out the night of the dance competition, along with a veteran member of our organization. Because of that position, I had very little contact with the rest of the planning committee, and very little contact with Kyleen.

The programs were made, better than the years past they said, and we had our sports/dance weekend. That weekend, we even held a mini competition at the lobby area (of the recreational center) that was fashioned after “Fear Factor.” We had a Red Bull container filled with ice and we were to see who could hold their fist in it the longest. Kyleen actually had the record for the “first round” of trials/qualifications. I believe she sat there for over an hour with her hand in the ice water. (Because I was part of the programs committee, I had a lot of time on my hands to do nothing, with everyone else having been assigned to keep scores at the football and basketball games.)

Kyleen had to go, holding the record. She was unable to “compete” during the second/final round. I was actually looking forward to it in hopes that I would get to compete with her. Long story kept to a minimum, I got into the final round, along with two handfuls of people. We had to keep our hands in the ice, while standing in the middle of the lobby. Then we were given tasks: stand on one leg, carry a can of soda in the other hand, drink and open the soda using that one hand, etc. In the end, I came out the winner. For it, I won $14 and a free event t-shirt (the shirt that everyone used to thaw their hands off).

During the night of the dance competition (Saturday), I waited to make my move to ask Kyleen to the banquet. Before I could do so, my older friend came to me (the one who had wanted to ask her first), and he told me that he already asked her a few minutes beforehand. He could not resist, he said, because the subject came up. I forgave him and congratulated him on being able to have her agree. In turn, I went to the girl who had been second on my list. I asked her and she said yes.

I was a little bummed that Kyleen was not going to be my date for the banquet. And, maybe also a little relieved because it may have been a bit weird with the two of us sharing a mutual “friend” in Jackie.

Sunny Rain

After ending our correspondence with each other, I was inspired to write some more, albeit it took some time before I actually put these words to paper. Just like how I originally found solace in poetic retreat after we first lost contact with each other with our “falling out,” I again turned to poetry to let off some heat. What came out of my head is what follows—a glimpse into my mind after finally having some of my last few words with Jackie:

It’s like rain on a sunny day,
‘Cause when I look in your eyes,
I realize I was treated a bad way.
You did it, purposely.
Was it to hurt me?
Or was there another reason why I just could not see?
The hate in your eyes or the fault that I did?
I thought that thing we had was just so candid,
Until you handed me my heart back in a platter,
And when it splattered on the ground it made a sound,
That’s when I found out:
It wasn’t my fault, I wasn’t to blame.
It turned out that you were the one left ashamed
To be around me
But when you met me, it wasn’t like that,
Until we evolved and moved on from internet chats.
But I won’t take it back, ‘cause those were the best times:
The times that we spent, not the times that we didn’t.
But, even if I did, I would do it again,
‘Cause not giving you a chance is like committing a sin.
I can’t deny it.
Even when I try to hide it, I get excited.
Even when I try to suppress it, I cannot fight it
All the voices all in my head just couldn’t keep quiet.
Then they metamorphosed
To something bigger and bigger—all of the things to remember,
But I grew stronger and stronger till I remembered no more.
When you’re no longer insane, somebody mentions her name,
So then the cycle remains, and again the same game.
Damn! What am I to do, when I see you?
In the crowd amongst the people that I hold true?
Not you, I’m talking ‘bout the people around you,
Thinking back to the times when I thanked God I found you.
Not anymore, but let me think it again:
Do I really want to take you back as a good friend?
I don’t want you to do what you did to me back then,
Taking my heart back to the grave that you buried it in.

My Solace

I found solace in my writing. More specifically, I found solace in my poetry. Immediately after the events that unfolded years ago (before I started college), I composed a lyrical, rhythmic piece addressed towards Jackie in Tagalog that explained what I had been going through:

Dati ko pa ‘tong iniisip sa aking utak
Kapag ika’y ngumingiti, parang ika’y bulaklak
Maganda ang itsura, matamis pa ang amoy
Buksan mo ang pinto at ako ay tutuloy
Sa iyong puso, maramdaman mo lang ginhawa
Akala ko nga ikaw ang tangi kong kasama
Matalino na, kay-tamis at ang bait
Ang ating panahon sana aking mauulit
Hindi ako nagalit noong di mo ‘ko natawagan
Sa telepono ng bahay, maliit lang ‘yan na bagay
At ito naman, sa aking palagay
Ang ating mahal ay hindi mamamatay
Ako’y nagkamali kasi sa aking isip
Tingin sa aking buhay ay panaginip
Dalawa na nga’ng babae ang gumugusto sa akin
Pareho nilang alam at umiibig pa rin
Ama namin, ano pa ang magagawa ko?
Aking pangako, kahit ano hindi susuko
Sa aking siyota, pero pangako ko’y nasira
Ano pa ba magagawa ko para sa kaniya?
Wala, kaya sa’yo ‘ko humarap
At dahil sa’yo ako ay naghihirap
Hindi mo naman alam, hindi mo na nakita
Kung paano kita minamahal sinta

Roughly translated, it says:

I’ve been thinking about this in my mind for a long time already.
When you smile, you’re like a flower:
Beautiful in appearance, and the fragrance is sweet, too.
Just open the door and I will walk through
To your heart, as long as you feel the comfort.
I had actually thought that you were my true companion
Not only smart, but also sweet and kind.
Our time together, I hope I can repeat.
I did not get angry when you did not call me
On my house phone. That was just a small thing.
And, this, in my mind:
Our love will never die.
I made a mistake in my thoughts, that’s why.
I thought my life was a dream.
Two girls already liked me;
They both knew about it, but they liked me still.
Our Father, what else can I do?
My promise: whatever happens, I won’t give up
On my girlfriend. But my promise was broken.
Now what else can I do for her?
Nothing, which is why I turned to you,
And because of you, I am struggling.
You don’t even know. You never saw
How I was loving you, my dear.

It was a piece that Jackie was never going to read or hear for a while after I wrote it. It took two more additions, and two more editions, before I would give her the poem to read on her own.

Writing was simply a way for me to express what I felt to her without her having to hear my thoughts directly. Even though I never originally intended for her to hear my words, I felt better just having been able to release them from within.

Forgive...

Jackie replied to me that following January of 2004. I really did not know what to expect more from her. She had already said sorry. I was still searching for an explanation, but I was not sure whether she would offer me that.

She told me she was a new person. There was no mention of trying to revive any type of relationship, nor was there any mention of anything for the future. She simply asked for my forgiveness for what she did to me.

I wondered how she took my reply to her initial contact with me. Looking back at that time, my words may have been quite harsh—actually, they were very harsh. That usually happened when I began to write; my truly intense emotions come out on the page. When I finally received her second email, however, there was no sign of an emotional reaction to my words.

She explained in purely simple terms why she had distanced herself from me: she had just gotten out of a bad relationship and could no longer trust guys. She felt as if they always hurt her, and she thought that the only way to be safe was to act like one. I had mentioned that her previous boyfriend before she met me had abused her. The boyfriend whom she had gotten together with after her birthday had practically been a nuisance. It was understandable that she would start to think how she did.

I understood her completely, with those simple words that she offered me. But, I still could not forget what she had already accomplished in doing. Although I could see why she acted how she did, I was not completely turned around by it; I was still feeling a sort of animosity towards her. I guess I let one thing get to me, which I was unable to fully comprehend: if she truly wanted to distance herself from me, why did she still act as if we could have had a great relationship with each other.

Maybe she was just being nice, but I thought that she should have at least been honest with me about it. I felt as if she had led me to believe that there had been hope between us, especially when she invited me to be her date for her Freshmen-Sophomore Prom that one year. If she really wanted nothing to do with guys as she had indicated in her email, then there should have never been so much contact between us, no matter how little contact we already had. It was precisely that confusing matter that I could not forget.

I informed her that I had forgiven her long ago, but the memories that she helped in reminding me could not fade so quickly. I knew that she had been hurt, but in her efforts to cure herself of her distrust towards men, I felt as if she had hurt me in the process. I could not think about her in the same light again. Her image in my head had become tarnished since that winter break.

There were a few more exchanges between us after that, to put together the last few pieces in the puzzle. This time around, however, I did not end up calling her or chatting with her online. The conversations were strictly by email with each other. No further contact was established, even though I knew that she attended the same university as a few of my friends and she knew where I had been attending college as well (literally the two closest colleges to each other).

Then, like magic, I started noticing Kyleen more and more at school again. She was still busy with her new hip hop dance troupe that she joined the quarter before, switching from her former modern dance group that had been associated with the university’s largest Chinese organization—she was now in a dance troupe that had stemmed from the Pilipino student organization on campus, so there was more contact between us.

Ironically, every time I had contact with Kyleen for any reason, she always brought up Jackie and her other friends, although I had been in the process of forgetting her again. It was explained to me that she was originally part of Jackie’s core group of best friends when they first started high school. The four of them—Jackie, Kyleen, Charmane, and Lysette—had been split once the new high school opened, closer to Jackie’s house. That explained why Kyleen had possession of my picture, which I still have yet to see to this day. It also explained why Kyleen always mentioned Jackie and her friends whenever she saw me.

Seeing Kyleen more often only intensified my drive to forget Jackie because every time Kyleen came into my sights, I would be reminded of the one girl that hurt me. I needed an outlet for my frustrations, no matter how unwarranted they may have been due to their pure insignificance to more pressing manners.

It Shows

It was a freezing night in December, between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Three of my best friends and I decided to have a small poker night at one of their mom’s warehouse/office to pass the time. After a few hours of play, with no money won or lost, we packed up and headed out, locking the office behind us.

Standing outside in the cold, we began talking. The conversation that came about, however, was out of the ordinary because of one thing: I was doing most of the talking. The reason: I began talking about Jackie.

I do not exactly know how I began talking about her, but it just happened. Finally, I let my friends in on my secret life that I had had for the past four years. Christian was the only friend there who had ever met Jackie beforehand or even heard about her. For my other two friends, everything was fresh news.

I told them my story—the ins and outs. The freezing cold got the best of us and we all entered my car midway through my words. I finished my story inside, reaching the point where Jackie sent me the Christmas email saying that she was sorry. I told them about my reply to her, and every other detail that had come before that moment: the way we met, the confusion, etc.

Then, I felt like crying. My voice trembled as I told the story, but no tears ever came out. I felt as if I was incapable of getting emotional even if I forced myself. I was finally having the breakdown that I never had back when it mattered more.

The pain returned to my chest—the same pain that engulfed me when I heard Jackie’s reply to my request from her years before. It was the same contraction that made my chest cringe when I first read her email days before Christmas. I felt that pain every time I remembered my own story. I still feel traces of it to this day, but it has become faint, like my memories.

My friends seemed to be on my side when I told my story; of course, it may have been biased. Also, my story was missing a crucial part: Jackie’s emotions. I still did not know how she had felt throughout all of this. I never knew what she was thinking. I never knew if she was telling me the truth. I never knew her reasons for doing what she admittedly did.

I only had to wait a few more days before she finally told me.

Merry Christmas

With my luck, I never saw Kyleen again for the rest of that fall quarter. I kept telling myself that the next time I saw her, I would try to commandeer Jackie’s contact information, but the chance never came. I kept waiting for the opportunity, but in the end, I simply forgot.

The quarter passed and the same could be said about myself in my five classes. It was a surprise to me that I did so well that quarter especially with my busy involvement as a cabinet member and hectic schedule with back-to-back classes everyday. I even caught the flu at the end of the quarter, just in time for final exams. It was so bad that I could not drive myself home after one day of testing; my sister had to pick me up that afternoon, then I was dropped off the next day for my next exam. The sickness persisted until after finals week, which also prevented me from going to the winter retreat for cabinet members—I was one of only two people who did not attend.

With the fall quarter over, I had three weeks to do absolutely nothing. I caught up on sleep that I had lost during the past eleven weeks and also got over my flu. Christmas was nearing and I had no plans as usual.

On the 23rd of December that year (2003), I awoke from bed and went straight to my computer as I had gotten used to doing. It must have been before noon because there was still light on my side of the house. I checked my email and found the usual: junk mail, spam, and more junk mail. I deleted them all from my inbox except for one, which looked oddly mysterious. It did not fit the common characteristics of junk email—it did not have a weird subject line trying to sell me medication over the net nor did it have a purely unknown sender.

After having filtered out the unsolicited email from my inbox, I clicked on the mysterious email that found its way to my email account. At that split second before my right index finger landed on the left clicker of my mouse, I immediately had a suspicion from which person the email had originated. Once the thought completely formed within my brain, the page opened, confirming my intuition.

My first glance was at one phrase that had been typed in boldface font: “I AM SORRY.” I quickly glanced up at the sender’s address again, and then it hit me; it was Jackie’s old AOL screen name that I had already erased from memory.

As soon as I began reading, the emotions came rushing back in; except this time, the emotions were not characterized by joy and elation but by anger and betrayal. The email highlighted how she was sorry about how she had purposely tried to distance herself from me, not yet explaining why. It confirmed some of my old suspicions that she was indeed avoiding me—cutting telephone conversations short, minimizing contact, etc.

She also explained to me that it must have been some type of sign because that fall, she saw me twice within the span on one week. The local Pilipino student organization at her school in San Bernardino had had their first meeting on a Wednesday early that fall quarter. I attended as a representative from my school’s organization. She had apparently been there, but I just missed her during the meet-and-greet icebreaker. A week later, my organization had their first general meeting. I was so busy with what I had to do that I missed her within the crowd—she had attended with Kyleen, along with either Charmane or Lysette or both. She informed me that ever since then, she had been meaning to contact me.

What really affected me the most, however, was how she practically confessed to having purposely distance herself from me no matter how hard I tried to get close to her. It made me feel stupid that I even tried, especially for so long. I realized then that she lied to me. I did not know what was true and what was false anymore. Did she really feel anything towards me in the first place or was she just toying with me from the start? From what she wrote, it made me think that the latter was true, although I did not want to believe it.

I had yet to hear the full story from her, but I was already infuriated. I guess I felt as if my efforts from the past few years were moot. I realized that maybe I should never have wasted any time on her.

I wrote her a response, but out of courtesy, I waited until after Christmas to deliver it to her inbox. My reply to her email was quite harsh, thinking back on it. It was full of rage compared to how I used to approach her. Before, I used to be gentle when speaking/writing to her because I liked her and did not want anything to ruin that. That Christmas, everything changed: my true feelings came out at that moment and it became translated onto the computer screen.

Although she wished my family and me a merry Christmas and a happy New Year, I thanked her for adding to the unusual darkness of my holiday season. Christmas that year was probably one of the worst holidays I had ever experienced, in part because of her letter but also with contributions from other factors. I explained to her that during the time when I had no contact with her, I slowly began to see her on a higher plane of existence again. When I last called her during the remaining days of my senior year of high school, I felt as if she had already dug herself into a deep hole by avoiding me. Through the year afterward, I slowly started filling that hole again with the good memories that I remembered we had shared. The bad memories faded and only the wonderful moments remained. But, with her email that Christmas, the hole quickly sank again. Rather than pointing out our good times together, she highlighted the not-so-good thoughts I had of her.

I know that I may be thinking in circles now, but that was how my mind flowed at that moment. I wondered why she chose that time to say “sorry” to me. I wonder if she purposely did so around the end of December because she thought it would be a nice Christmas present. If so, it turned out to be the opposite.

After having sent her my harsh reply, I did feel a type of regret, but I brushed it off. My motto was never to regret anything because my past is what made me who I was, and I was satisfied with it. I wanted her to realize how I had been feeling inside all that time. I did not mean to make her feel extremely bad about having done what she did, I just wanted to point out to her that it would have been nice if she had just been honest with me from the beginning instead of leading me on to think that she still wanted to be close with me.

I just did not understand why she had done it yet. If only she had told me from the start how she really felt, then we could have skipped all of the pretending. It was not until a few weeks and months later when we finally reached a conclusion.

Picture This

The opportunity finally came to meet her: my secret crush for the past year. It was not until my second year in college when I finally encountered her face to face.

I had been elected as an officer of the local Pilipino student organization on campus and became bound to their every event. I was a spearhead of a few things, and for others it was mandatory for me to come and participate. That October 2003, we were once again preparing for the annual “Friendship Games” to be held at California State University of Fullerton. It was an event where all of the Filipino college organizations would come together and compete in picnic games while networking with each other. As was custom, each organization would practice the games before arriving on the day of the event.

It was on a Saturday when I exchanged my first words with her. That morning, members of the organization met at our university’s student recreation center to begin practice for the games and the opening routine that each school would do for the “Roll Call.” While waiting outside for more people to arrive, a small group had already gathered on the steps of the gymnasium. Those who already knew each other could be seen in their little cliques talking amongst themselves. Because I was still new to the whole group, I stuck with the closest person I knew—a fellow cabinet member.

Just in front of me, I noticed a beautiful young woman sitting on the steps next to another cabinet member. They were talking as if they had known each other for quite some time. After a second glance, I realized that the mystery girl was the same as the one whom I had an eye on for the past year. It turned out that she was Filipina—not Chinese as I had originally assumed from her previous involvement with the dance group the year before. I immediately resolved that I would make my move when I had the chance. There was no better time than the present.

As more and more people came that morning, the time neared when we finally decided to begin. We had reserved a multipurpose room within the recreational center, so the spearhead of the event began moving people inside. I let a few people move ahead of me, trying to stay back long as I could to steal a moment with the mystery woman; however, she was engulfed in conversation with a female friend of mine, so I began to walk in front of them so that I could hold the doors open like a gentleman.

We were the last of the pack to enter the recreational center. I followed the last of the people who walked into the multipurpose room after having swiped our ID cards at the door, and then I waited for a moment for the two young women to catch up. I decided that I would say hello at the moment she passed me and finally introduce myself. As she walked in front of me while I held the door open, however, I could not say a single word because she had taken the opportunity to act before me.

“I have a picture of you,” were the first words out of her mouth directed towards me. At that moment, I was taken aback, surprised by the facts that just hit my face. My shock and surprise could be seen as I searched for the right words to respond, having been caught off-guard at that precise moment. She kept her smile as she passed me, turning her body to keep it in line with mine.

The only words that I could think of using as a response came out as, “What? How?” I could not understand how she could have possibly had a picture of me especially when I barely ever took pictures of myself during that time.

She answered my question and said, “You went to a dance with my friend.” Immediately it hit me that I did go to a dance with someone before, and the only person that could have been was Jackie. I never went to any other dance during my high school years. So putting two and two together, I concluded that this mystery girl was one of Jackie’s friends who I had yet to meet.

I learned that her name was Kyleen. I also learned that the world was smaller than I thought. I remembered at that moment that during one stint of online chatting, my friend Christian had encountered Lysette, one of Jackie’s best friends. Lysette had asked Christian if he had known whom I was after finding out where he had gone to school. With Kyleen, I realized that more people knew me than I could imagine.

I quickly forgot what I had originally intended to say to Kyleen at that moment. I knew that I was trying to introduce myself, but she had already known me. From that point on, all I could think about was how I could possibly get in touch with Jackie again—possibly through Kyleen.

Although I still was a little attracted to Kyleen, I resolved that I would first contact Jackie, even if I had already told myself to never call her again the year before. I said to myself that I would befriend Kyleen so that maybe she could lead me to the girl whom I had lost a long time before. After all, she had a picture of me that even I had never seen before even though I helped pay for it.