Skipping Stones

(Here's something I wrote back in 2005. I stumbled across it again while reviewing my friendster blog and thought, "Hey I like what I wrote." Nhinya thought it was nice, too, and to me that says a lot. So I'm reposting it here. Makes me wonder if I should've used all 9 free electives on creative writing subjects to sharpen my skills, so  to speak.)

Someone called out my name and I looked up from the book I was browsing.

I looked over the bookshelf and I saw her looking back at me. I replaced the book and walked over to the best sellers section, where she stood.

I smiled. She smiled. And like we had always done, we suddenly broke into laughter. It had been a while since we last met and besides the corporate get up we wore, nothing much changed.

“Wow, you’re wearing heels,” I said.

“Office policy. It makes me look tall, doesn’t it?” she grinned.

“Yup. Before you only reached up to my chin but now you’re up to my ear. Great improvement.”

“You’re mean.”

We laughed again.

I missed her.

We left the bookstore and headed for the park.

“You got the tickets?” she asked.

I patted my shirt pocket.

“What time does the play start?”

“Eight.”

“My watch says six. Want to walk around first?”

I agreed.

“So how’s life?” she started.

“Fine. It’s been so-so.”

“How about your love life?”

Ah, the clincher question.

“Love life? What love life?

I flashed a sheepish grin.

“And just to return the question.”

She raised both her arms, “It’s dead,”

Subject closed. Another opened.

“Have you seen any of our batchmates lately?”

“Some. I try to meet the guys on weekends.”

Nostalgia set in. The usual questions were asked: Who’s successful? Who’s not? Who’s pregnant? Who’s a father?

For a moment, time stopped and we were thrust into a familiar world. A world we have created for ourselves ever since we became friends. Only the two of us could enter it. It was a secret. For that moment, nothing else mattered. It was childish, we knew, and we didn’t care. We were children.

“Let’s sit on one of the park benches,” she said.

“You said you wanted to walk around. We haven’t gone ten minutes walking and you want to sit?”

“No, I asked you if you wanted to walk around. I don’t want to walk anymore. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m tired and I’m stressed. Working does this to you.”

“I work too, you know?”

“Oh, just sit down.”

 So we sat. Later, she pointed to one of the couples, two park benches away.

“Aren’t you envious?”

“No, not really.”

She raised one of her eyebrows.

“Okay, maybe a little. You?”

“An incy-wincy bit,” she gestured with her fingers. “How long have we been friends?” she asked.

“Oh, I’d say for quite a long while now.”

She nodded.

“So what’s wrong with you? Why haven’t you done anything?”

“Me? How do you mean by ‘haven’t done anything?’”

 She chuckled.

  “Why not get a girlfriend? You know, you ought to get yourself a girlfriend.”

 “And you have concluded that because?”

 “Because you ought to have someone special.”

 “Aren’t you special?”

 I had meant it as a joke. But jokes are always half meant.

 “Aww… how sweet.” She punched my arm, hard.

 “What? Aren’t you?”

 She smiled.

 “Why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

 She frowned. “Do you see anyone knocking at my door? I told you, that aspect of my life is dead.”

 “Really? No office affairs either?”

 “I just wish.”

 We laughed.

 “What is to become of us?” I said.

 She laughed and said, “Maybe we should go for each other.”

 I passed it off for a joke.

 But jokes are always half meant.

 “Hey…” I said.

 She stopped laughing and looked at me straight in the eyes.

 Her eyes.

I lost it.

The rehearsed lines, the right gestures, the gathered guts - everything drowned in the depths of her dark brown eyes.

A chance lost yet again.

“Yes?”

“…You want to have dinner first?”

I had to sigh.

“Well, okay. Care for pasta?” she said.

We went to one of those Italian restaurants and ordered a pan of pepperoni pizza, tuna carbonara and lemon iced tea.

“So what’s the play about?” she said.

“Something about a political satire.”

“So you don’t know.”

“No.”

“And we’re watching it because?”

“We have decided to actively participate in social pursuits akin to our age group.”

“Ooh, technical. Just say you’re trying to act cultured and artsy-fartsy and you’re dragging me along.”

I glowered at her. “But you came along anyway. So what does that make you?”

“A friend.”

“Well put.”

She flaunted a triumphant smile.

A friend?

She bit into her slice of pizza. I poked at the noodles and fish on my plate.

“Arrrt, yub iitig vhat?”

I looked at her, confused.

She swallowed, “I said, aren’t you eating that?”

“Oh.” I forked some into my mouth and chewed vigorously. So many years and yet I still found her adorable.

“So, out with it.”

Alarms sounded.

“What do you mean?”

“I know full well that you are itching to tell me something. I know you, dear.”

“Oh, really?

“You couldn’t stop fidgeting since we ordered. You seem to have no appetite. You couldn’t look me in the eye. Something’s up.”

She got me.

 “Must I always take initiative? You don’t like the restaurant I picked, do you? You should have said so,” she said.

I smiled and felt my soul sigh in relief.

“Don’t smile at me, mister. Be honest.”

Ah, honesty. If I were 100 percent honest right then, what would have had happened?

“Honestly?” I began.

She raised her eye brows, perked up her ears and came closer.

Let go.

“I love you.”

She leaned back on her chair, “What?”

“You wanted me to be honest and this is as honest as I can be. I love you. I have loved you for the longest time. I was just too stupid to say anything.”

Silence.

“I know this is one of the worst times to tell you this. But I just have to tell you. I don’t think there’s a right time for this anyway but maybe this is the right time. I don’t know. I’m babbling. What I know is, I love you.”

I said it. It was all out. It wasn’t as romantic or grand as I imagined or practiced. I just blurted it out and hoped for the best. I looked at her for any reaction. Nothing.

“Please, say something. Anything.”

“So all this time you were hiding this from me?”

“Yes, I’m sor…”

“I can’t believe this. How…how could you do such a thing?”

“Do what?”

“This. I trusted you and all the while you had something for me? That’s like a breach of trust. This friendship had been based on lies and malice. How could you do this to me?”

But the joke? The hints? I thought…

“I can’t do this. I can’t talk to you right now. You lied to me. Why?”

She stood up and walked away.

“Because I was afraid it would turn into this. And it did,” but my words merely trailed off.

 
 

Epilogue

“I’m waiting,” she said looking up at me.

I blinked a few times, took a napkin and wiped my mouth.

“Yes, I’m a rice person but I have nothing against pasta. I like spaghetti, too, and pizza is just lovely. It’s not a big deal, you know?” 

Her eyes narrowed while considering what I said. She bit her lips, something she had always done when thinking. She shook her head and sighed.

“Okay,” she said.

She took another bite of her pizza and I took a sip of my iced tea. She smiled, I smiled. We laughed.

Inside, I heard someone laughing harder.