The Beginning After the Supposed End [short story]

"What were you thinking?"

"That's it. I wasn't. Ironically, my head was never as clear than when I've decided that I was going ahead with it."

"If there's anyone who has to go, it should damn well be Jericho Rosales."

He laughed.

"Hey, I'm not kidding, ok? Don't ever scare me like that again. Ever. I know it seems like you're like given a preview to hell right now, but believe me, it will get better. Think about it: How could it get any worse?"

"You know what? Of all the people I wish to talk to, it's you, because your hell is closest to mine. Well, no offense meant."

"None taken."

He smiled but did not say anything.

"Just... I don't know. Just breathe. Breathe, ok? You have to start somewhere. Start with your breath."

He nodded at her noncommittally. She stood up to leave.

"’My future is a cadaver crunching in a very fast decay...’"

She looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. "Plath again?"

"No. Mine. Narcissistic, huh?"

She shook her head and closed the door behind her.

He sat alone in the empty room, silently contemplating. Everything seemed to be trivial. Funny. Because he was so convinced he would be dead by now. He had written his farewell journal entry to his fictitious friend Holden. His stories and poetry were neatly set aside to be left posthumously. He even returned the rented VCDs. It was funny that those were all he managed to put into order.

The poet stood up. This called for a walk. Walking was his substitute to weed. He would've preferred the real thing, but walking would have to do right then. Stepping out into the open air of the street, he was oblivious to the usual cacophony of the city. Instead, his mind wandered elsewhere.

He remembered his flunked subjects. His suspension from the University. The painful talk with his parents. The equally painful email he had to write to his aunt who was supporting his college education. The pleading. The refusing. The white lies. He found it amusing that he had to lie to spare them all from the pain of knowing the full extent of the reality.

"Nobody fails if everyone studies."

His mother's words echoed within the hollow corners of his head, taunting him. Aggravating him that he had to be burdened by the truth.

"I don't have the heart for it," he had said. And barely getting the words out, he choked, "You would never understand me because you don't even read the books I read."

He remembered his asphyxiation attempt. Somewhere along the long and painful effort to restrain his breathing, a tiny part of him wanted to let go. He remembered his struggle for breath. In his life full of difficulties, he tried to deprive himself of something that was easy. The air was his and it never failed him, was never disappointed at him, and never had to question him.

A vehicle's blare snapped him back into his senses. He quickened his steps. He had to get home soon. He had to find his copy of J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye.

Marunong ka bang magpa-cute?

Pwedeng magpaturo? Feeling ko kasi nang nagsabog ang Maykapal ng kagalingan sa pagpapahumaling ng mga kalalakihan, parang nagtago ako sa kailaliman ng isang liblib na kweba at wala akong nakuha ni katiting man lang.

‘Ika nga, being too charming was never one of my faults. Ang opinyon ng ibang tao sa akin sa unang tingin, kung hindi repulsively abrasive, eh, coldly indifferent naman. Alam ko yun, kasi tinanong ko ang mga kaibigan ko kung ano ang first impression nila sa akin. Meron rin namang iba na medyo tactful at sinasabi na I “look comfortable being alone”, self-sufficient daw kumbaga kaya walang nagtatangkang lumapit kahit sino.

Eh, sa mga crushes ko, ‘kanyo? Paano ako umasta? Parang male-male na may speech defect at dyslexia o di naman kaya parang di-makabasag pinggan na noveciada sa kumbento – pormal na pormal at hindi nagsasalita o kung hindi naman parang isang sobrang dedma na weirdo. Sitcom ang crush life ko. Slapstick na may pagka-spoof na may pagka-horror.

Abnormal ba ako? Ba’t di ako marunong magpa-cute?

Ilang beses nang nangyari na andyan na sya sa tabi ko. O kaya sa harap ko. Nakangiti sya. Alam n’yo ba ang pakiramdam na parang disconnected ang logic mo sa motor senses mo? Ganon. Hindi man lang ako makatango. Andali lang magsabi “Uy, ‘musta?” Aargh. Di lang ‘to katorpehan. Katangahan na talaga.

May mga pagkakataon naman, ewan ko lang talaga kung bakit, na hindi ko talaga kayang malapit siya. Parang hindi ako mapalagay kaya ako ang lumalayo. Group meeting namin. Syempre andon sya. Ewan ko lang kung saan nagbabakasyon ang diwa at dila ko kaya’t daig pa ako ng ibang extra sa mga telenovela. Buti pa sila, may mga one-liner, ako talaga, wala. Anyway, napansin yata ng mga kasamahan ko na masama pakiramdam ko. “Okay ka lang?”, ‘ka nila. Nakatingin si lalaking pinagpalaan sa akin. Sa akin. Gusto niya ring malaman kung okay lang ako. Ako. At ano ang ginawa ko? Bilis, ano sa tingin nyo? Tumayo ako bigla sabay sabi nang, “Bili muna ako paracetamol.” Tapos, lumakad ng mabilis palabas. Sa totoo lang, sumakit nga ulo ko. Sa sarili kong ka-weirdo-han. Ha-haay.

Hindi naman palaging “don’t-know-what-to-do/say-whenever-you-are-near” ang eksena ko. Nakakausap ko naman. Minsan, talaga lang nabobobo ako. My IQ shoots down a few points pag andyan na object of my affliction, uhm, affection pala. Magkaharap kami sa lamesa at nagke-kwentuhan. Nabanggit sa usapan namin na Kapampangan ang roots ko. Sabi niya, “So, it’s true pala na girls from Pampanga are pretty.” Reaction ko? Wala. Tameme ako for what seemed to be an eternity of uncomfortable, tense silence. Sabay tingin sa sahig. Ano ba naman inaasahan kong makita doon sa sahig? Cue cards? Teleprompter? Bilis, ano sa tingin nyo? Dahil hanggang ngayon di ko talaga alam kung bakit. Iniba ko na lang ang usapan. Siguro nga wala sa personalidad ko ang mag-react sa mga klaseng remark na ganon with a “thank you”. Pero, it would have been characteristic of me to have said, “Uy, ah. Wag ka naman gaanong magpa-obvious na nagkakagusto ka na sa akin.” Di lang common sense ang nawawala sa akin. Pati sense of humour.

Normally, I am a fast thinker; even quick-witted, sometimes. Kumbaga, parang DSL, mabilis ang response time. Pag crushie ko na ang kaharap ko, nagiging 28.8 kbps na dial-up ako. Oras ang lumilipas bago ko nalalaman kung ano ang pinaka-akmang sabihin. ‘Saklap.

May kaibigan ako. Kung ako ay hindi pa nakakapasa ng pre-school sa pagpapa-cute, yung kaibigan ko, may ph.d. na. Nakalimutan ko kung nakailang nobyo na sya, sa sobrang dami. Ako, ni isa, hindi pa nagkakaroon. Sabi niya, you have to give a motive daw. Yung mga tipong, pasulyap-sulyap daw o kaya pangiti-ngiti sa taong gusto mo. She tried to tell me that flirting is something every girl should master.

Hindi ba pwedeng ibang paraan na lang? Wala akong talent sa “beautiful eyes” kahit noong bata pa ako, eh. Hindi yan isa sa mga naging “tricks” ko noong toddler pa ako. And I don’t think reciting “Ten Little Indians” count as a flirtation skill. Pero ang pagpapa-cute is just a way to get to know the other person better, di ba? Sabi ko sa sarili ko, baka pwedeng mag-tong-its na lang kami. Ako pa bibili ng isang malaking supot ng mani. Mas magkakakilala kami sa ganoong paraan. As they say, you learn more about a person in five minutes of play than in an hour of talk. O, sige, baka mas gusto niya ng Uno, ok rin lang sa akin.

Eh, pano nyan? Kailangan ko pa rin syang yayain mag-hang out para maglaro. Based on my track record, malamang, makakaubos ako ng isang supot ng mani mag-isa nang di oras.