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Part III
Rick has been my best friend ever since my freshman years in
this High school, in the bumpy rides that our school buses
provided every morning and evenings. It was our first year into
that last stage of our twelve year training, me being the first
freshman class allowed into the high school, and him of the
extinct race of sophomore classes that went to High School only
after reaching the tenth grade.
“So, where do you want to go?”
I sat on the seat in front of his, and was a little nervous on
the bus, since this was my first time on it. He was discussing
wrestling matches with his new-made friends behind me, and we
didn’t speak, or even look, at each other, till that afternoon,
when the bus brought us back, his being on the same stop as
mine.
“Wonder if they have new arcades here...”
He had organized a football game in that first day of school,
the first sign of his football-addictness to me. He was probably
lacking one more player, and was desperate to find one, when he
asked me to join them, on the bus, before we arrived at our bus
stop. I agreed, since I did all that was possible to break the
monotony schedules that life presents to you, and this was
definitely one thing that would crash that schedule, for this
was something that I had never done before.
“Damn... I knew that I shouldn’t have ate something before we
came here.”
He must have been pretty desperate to ask a guy like me, who had
never even touched a football before, to play in a football
game. One good thing was that some of my eighth grade friends
were also there, and they taught me a little about how to pass
and receive or the basic rules of this all-American sport. It
would take me half a year to master this game, but it only took
me one hour to fall in love with it. Maybe because of the
simplicity of the game, or the enthusiasm that the players
showed, or, just simply, because it was a game of pain, of
torturous crushings and hurtings, the only drugs that kept me
alive.
“Hey, that Old Navy store wasn’t here last time!”
We played on the green-grassed fields outside the Indian Riffle
Elementary School, where my little brother Jess was attending
to, but sometimes people wouldn’t be able to come to play
football, and it would usually leave me and Rick standing alone
in the field, awaiting for someone else to come. I was always
there, because it beat watching another hour of pointless TV,
and Rick was always there also, because he was always the
organizer of the games. It was during these ‘alone’ times that
we would talk to each other, and through conversation, we
strengthened our friendship, till we finally became the best
friends that we are now, inseparable even after he went to
college, and I was stuck in High School with the useless status
of a Senior.
“Hey, Tom, are you even listening to me?”
It was more than the beer rituals that bonded us together, but
also because we were both writers, alternative viewers of the
world that surrounds us. I, a writer of wars, and him, a writer
of dramas, usually about High School students or men surrounded
by women problems. maybe it’s the being writers that bonded us
so close together, for only a writer would understand another
writer.
“Yo!” Rick yelled, as he slapped me on the back of my head,
bumping my thoughts out of my brain. “Wake up, Tom, the sunshine
lights are up already!”
“Ouch!” I cried out, the pain stinging fiercely at the back of
my head. “Geez, what did you do that for?”
“I thought that some vicious demon from hell had come up
unnoticed and took over your body. I was just trying to slap
them out of your precious mind, you know.”
“Funny, Rick. Ha, ha, ha.” I said sarcastically, rubbing at the
back of my head, as if the rubbing would scare the pain away
from there. “You should put that on a bumper sticker and sell
it. You know, you could make millions and millions of dollars
like that.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that after I sell your nude pictures to ‘gay and
I’.”
We were in the Dayton Mall now, miles away from our homes. The
place was pretty empty compared to the last time I stepped my
black basketball shoes onto its tiled floor, which was pretty
weird, considering the fact that it was the Saturday after
Spring Break. Rick and I were here to check out for any new
animes and T-shirts, not to mention new Playstation game titles.
“What did you slap me for?” I asked, reminding him of the reason
why this discussion had started.
“’Cause you didn’t talk the whole time we’ve been here!”
“Well, I nodded...”
“Oh, yeah, that’s going to start up a conversation.”
“Geez.” I said, still rubbing the back of my head. It still hurt
like hell, even after so many seconds of rubbing it furiously.
It seemed like Rick’s obeseness weren’t all composed of fats and
grease. “Well, remind me to slap you hard on the head, the next
time you nod and say nothing.”
We stepped on the motorized escalators, and let the metallic
stairs raise us slowly up onto the second floor. “I still can’t
believe I let you and Justin talk me into a second year of
creative writing.” I said absent-mindedly to him. We were the
only ones on the escalator, just to show you how empty it was in
that Saturday morning.
“Hey, don’t blame it on Justin and me... You took it because you
wanted it.” Rick answered. Justin was another fellow
‘second-year writer’, as Rick called it, since he had taken
creative writing for the second year, and one of the members of
the “Mud Squad”. The “Mud Squad” were a group of second-year
writers, separated from us ‘first-year writers’ by Mrs. Rab, our
creative writing teacher in last year’s creative writing class.
“That’s what you say.” I replied, as the stairs finally rose us
to the firm second floors of the Mall. Justin had sat on the
seat in front of mine, with Rick sitting right beside me, and he
was like an advisor to me, helping me through the lazy years of
my Junior life. They were the ones who had convinced me to take
creative writing one second time, because being in the ‘Mud
Squad is easy’. But then again, that was really only a part of
the truth, for I still wanted to improve as a writer, not to
mention a whole period dedicated to writing, and I was sure this
second year would help me more than just a semester of it. And
being in the ‘Mud Squad’ wouldn’t hurt me either, since it would
take some stress off my busy schedule.
Rick chuckled then, as we stepped off the mechanical stairs.
“Man, you’re just full of bad luck.”
“Why do you say that?” I replied, my eyes wandering the magazine
titles displayed on a wooden bookshelf in that bookstore right
next to ETC.
“Think about it.” Rick said, still chuckling to himself. “You
have all your hard classes on the first semester instead of on
the second semester...”
“So?” I interrupted impatiently. “Your point is?”
“The point being that easy classes provide easy exams, and hard
classes provide hard exams. Get my drift yet?”
“Maybe if I smoked as much crack as you.”
Rick gave out an upset sigh. “You’re unlucky to have all your
hard classes in the first semester of your senior year,” Rick
explained furiously, as a Physics teacher in a kindergarten
class. “Because you have to take them. If they were in the
second semester, you wouldn’t have to take any of them, ‘cause
seniors don’t take second semester exams. Get it now, dumbass?”
“Uh-huh.” I answered, uninterested, my eyes trapped by the game
commercials of the ETC TV, which was glowing behind the glass
barrier of the store. “Do you want to go to ETC first?”
“Dumbass.” Rick said angrily, probably because of my
unresponsive responses. He was rolling his eyes up and shaking
slowly his head, as if by doing this will make God see him, and
realize the anger that I had just caused him. “You know what you
should write on your career report, under the ‘job’ section?”
“I don’t know, dangerous professional terrorist?” I joked,
trying to lighten him up once again. Rick was one of those
easy-to-anger, type-A-blood, crazy-but-not-mad type of people.
And because he was all of the above, plus weed and beer moods,
it was, and still is, kind of hard not to piss him off, since
you didn’t know what would anger him, and how to act to please
him.
“Stupid dangerous dumbass, I’ll say.” He said, the upsetness
still in his voice. “That’s what you should put, stupid
dangerous dumbass under your job experiences, since you really
do have a lot of experiences being a dumbass.”
“Okay.” I answered simply. If telling me that would calm him
down, it was worth it. “Now, do you want to got to ETC, or not?”
“Nah,” Rick said in a calmer voice, his hands stuffed inside his
blue jean pockets. “Let’s go to Suncoast first, since my wallet
is always empty after ETC’s game buyings.”
“Geez, you could have said that before we came to the second
floor!” I replied, since Suncoast was down on the first floor.
“Well, it didn’t occur to me till now...”
“God!” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes up and shake slowly my
head, hoping that God would see me, and realize the anger that
he was causing me. We turned at the door leading to the arcade
games, and stepped on the steel escalators again, except that
this time we were heading down, instead of up. I calmed down as
my foot touched the surface of the moving step, and glued to it
like a tree root to the mushy ground. “So, tell me,” I asked him
in a normal voice, a voice void of any anger or resentment.
“What other points do you have to say that I’m full of bad
luck?”
I didn’t know why I asked that, maybe because I didn’t want to
hurt his feelings, since I rudely distracted myself during his
explanation of why I was full of bad luck. “Eh, why bother.”
Rick replied. “It’s not like you want to hear about it or
anything.”
“I do want to hear about it.” I said.
“Why? Is there any particular reason?”
“Sure. I need to have as much information about myself as
possible, since I’m writing my autobiography, you know.”
“That autobiography sucked!” Rick exclaimed.
“Thank you.” I replied with a smile, even though the words of my
best friend did hurt a lot then, since I respect his criticism
more than anyone else’s. But then again, it was the same
procedure for all my sadnesses: Hide it, act normal, give a
stupid joke, and follow it with a fake laugh. “I wanted people
to know how my life was through the novel, and you’ve just
captivated it with one simple word: Sucks. My life sucks,
therefore the title, My Life in Hell.”
“Pretty catchy title, I’ll tell ya that.”
“Thank you, once again, mi amigo.” A smile shown on my face, not
of disappointment, but of a blank happiness. We jumped off the
mechanized escalator then, or feet soiled once again in the low
floor of the Mall building. “So, come on, tell me about my
unluckiness.”
“Well,” Rick said in his professor-like tone. “First of all,
there’s the creative writing teacher retiring at your ‘Mud
Squad’ year, and with the arrival of the new teacher, comes also
the repeating of the entire course.” Mrs. Rab, our old creative
writing teacher, used to let ‘Mud’ students out of the
classroom, since they had taken the course before, right after
our journal checking. Rick told me that ‘Mud Squad’ members
didn’t have to do any assignments, with the exception of
‘unassignment assignment’, our daily ‘two-page-minimum’ journal,
and considering the next ‘big’ assignment for the students. It
was an easy life, nonetheless, a life that had escaped from me.
“Second,” Rick continued, as we moved through the simple maze of
the huge building. “There’s also the fact of that red-haired
girl, who after capturing your heart with just one smile of her
face, escaped out of your miserable life.”
“Yeah.” I let out a sad sigh. I somehow knew that I was making a
mistake by asking him to tell me about my bad luck, and alas, I
was right, it was a goddamn mistake. The only reason why Rick
and I came to the Dayton Mall together one Saturday of every
month, was to take a break from our depressed lives with school
and jobs, and go back with renewed energies that would last us
the whole month. But with the reminder of Elly, and of how away
she was now, the pressures of my depressed life haunted me then,
and prevented me from my break or renewal of energy. I let out a
sad sigh. Sigh, that was all that I could do then.
My former creative writing teacher, Mrs. Evans-Marshall, who was
also my comedy and satire teacher, and also half-year freshman
English teacher, gave me the title of an autobiography, and
suggested that I read the book, for it would help me write a
better autobiography next time. I had received the book on
Monday, after reserving it for more than two weeks, and had
begun reading it after spring break.
The book was titled The Woman Warrior, by Maxine
Kingston. I had begun reading it, not for the sole reason of
improving my non-fiction writing skills, but because I wanted
something that would distract my mind from Elly, from her gently
smile in the sunrise. I had desperately used videogames for that
before, but then realized that the love relationship in the game
story reminded me more of her. And, as if God enjoyed mocking
me, the main female character of the game, which appeared after
the fifth hour of gameplay, was also named Elly, and she had red
hair too!
Either by sheer coincidence, or because God loved torturing my
poor little mind, that character in the story kept me from
touching that game again. And since my only comfort was gone
now, I had to seek another comfort to substitute videogames,
which happened to be that yellow-covered autobiography. Every
time her smile crawled back into my mind, I would run to get
that yellow book, and read it’s sad-happy stories, hoping that
they would lead me away from her memories, from that gentle
little smile by the lake waves.
Oh, how I wished to have that autobiography now, as we walked
through people crowds in the Dayton Mall, on our way to the
Suncoast store. I had the worst case of Elly mind-invasion now,
with no yellow-covered drug to suppress it. “Yeah, I guess I’m
doing okay,” I started singing Everclear’s ‘I will buy you a new
life’ in a whispering then, in a futile attempt to substitute
the effects of Maxine’s The Woman Warrior. “I moved in
with the strangest guy, can you believe that he actually thinks
that I’m really alive.”
The song did suppress a little, not completely, the memories of
the smiling red-haired girl. I already knew it wouldn’t work so
well, since it didn’t work too well suppressing my ‘Elly
memories’ in school, when my attention wasn’t attracted by my
friends or teachers. Still unable to believe that Rick would
bring me my biggest depression maker in our break trip. Sigh,
still can’t believe that the song didn’t help me suppress her
smile.
“Hey, Rick, I’m going to the restroom.” I had called out
suddenly, as I realized how full my pee holder was getting. I
guess it was a blessing from the Gods, at least for me, but not
to my penis, since this sudden emergency had broken the spell of
Elly’s memories, and had brought my mind back to normal. Well,
as normal as it’ll ever get. “Dost thou have any desire to go
there also?”
“Nah, no desire to piss yet.”
“Okay, so we’ll meet at the rendezvous point in
case we get separated. Got that?”
“Sure, the arcade rows of Funs and Games it is.” Rick replied,
as he gave me a distracted wave with his right hand, before he
disappeared into the video rows of Suncoast. I think his mind
was distracted by the titles of movies and anime, for I didn’t
think that he realized that I was gone yet.
I ran past the mechanized moving escalators, turned at the
‘informations’ desk, and walked rapidly, on the verge of
running, down the hallway to the men’s restroom. The only
problem I found with the autobiography The Woman Warrior,
I thought as I dumped the yellow load out of my ‘wee-wee’, was
that it sounded too fictional to be a non-fiction true story.
Maybe it was because I had read too many fiction novels that
sounded like non-fiction true stories, and confused me to the
point that I myself didn’t know if the story I had read then was
fictional, or real, till I read it in the novel’s introduction.
The truth was that the characters and story of The Woman
Warrior sounded less realistic, less developed, than some of
the fictional novels that our English classes forced us to read,
which decreased my credibility of the novel being a ‘true
autobiography’, with no fiction being implied on it. The
Woman Warrior’s realism is as believable as Catcher in
the Rye’s realism, which isn’t bad, since Catcher in the
Rye seemed pretty realistic for me.
But then again, I shouldn’t criticize it yet, for I hadn’t
finished the book yet, having read only three-fourths of it. But
it did get me thinking, as I felt the shampoo-like liquid soap
ooze onto my bare palms, only to be turned into white foam and
clear bubbles, as hands touched each other and rubbed for the
cleansing of the surface dirts. Maybe these fictional novels
aren’t really fictional novels, but of true memories that the
author himself/herself remembers, non-fiction stories called
fiction to hide the true pain of the writer, just as I hid my
sadness behind a fake laugh and jokes.
And the so-called autobiographies, I thought, as the stream of
clean water cleansed the hand of the dirt-ridden foam, were
nothing but fiction stories created by the writer’s minds,
called non-fiction or “based on a true story” just to make the
characters and stories more credible, and therefore, hope that
it will attract more readers, than it would if they knew that
everything in the novel were fictional.
But then again, I continued thinking, as the thought flowed out
into my mind as a clear cascade in the raining jungles,
undisturbed by the noises made by the hand drier, nobody could
really tell if they were, or were not, real, for I don’t think
the writers would admit it, since they were the ones who started
these lies, and they would stick to it, lie or not, till the end
of their souls.
And why should I criticize them? My hands pushed the swinging
door at the exit of the men’s bathroom, and walked out of that
lighted hallway, back to the crowd center of the Dayton Mall.
The truth is, I thought, as my footsteps made small noises as I
walked on the tiled floor, I shouldn’t criticize them, for I’m
not really a good writer yet, far away from a professional one,
therefore I wouldn’t understand the minds of real, true, and
professional writers, since I’m just a shadow of a writer, an
imperfect imitation.
I’m nothing, I thought depressively, as I looked at the busy
crowd come and go out of the Lazarus store, I’m nothing more but
a trash on the floor, a minuscule dust in the vast sand dunes of
the desert. I let out a sad sigh. Real writers would have been
able to finish a better autobiography in five seconds, unlike
me, who can’t even write a good fifty pages of an autobiography
in five weeks. I’m pathetic, why do I even bother trying to be a
writer. I should quit, quit while I’m ahead...
That’s when a blur of red hair caught the corner of my eyes, and
drew my attention out of my depressive thoughts. The blur had
disappeared into the covers of the Lazarus store, gone out of
the perception of my brown eyes. There were more people in the
Dayton Mall now, having materialized out of nowhere.
I remember standing there, blinking as a retarded idiot, puzzled
by that red-haired mirage. That hair, it seemed like Elly’s. No,
it can’t be, can it? Could that be just an illusion created by
my twisted mind, by the memories of that gentle smile on her
face?
It’s just an illusion, my Ego had concluded inside my mind. But
sometimes our Egos become weaker than our Ids, and this became
one of those times, as my Id urged me to follow her, to checkout
if she was Elly, or just an illusion created by my
subconsciousness.
I walked quickly, still not running, into the giant entrance of
the Lazarus. My Ego kept yelling that it was an illusion, that I
was just going to disappoint myself even more. But my Id ignored
my Ego’s cries, and pushed me forward, looking around, trying to
find her, trying to confirm my suspicions.
I found the red-haired person after a few minutes of frantic
search, in the women’s clothes department. I had hid myself near
the pants that were displayed on the same section, and looked at
the person. I watched her every move, as she checked the dresses
hanging on the hangers.
Has the Gods of my ancestors smiled upon me? A harsh smile on
the elderly faces of the divinities? For my heart stopped as the
girl raised her right hand, and with it, brushed aside the wild
red hair strands away from her white ear, her face visible now
to my widening eyes. Are the Gods mocking me again? To show me
the beauty and then take it away from me? Only to repeat this
routine over and over again, till my madness finally takes over,
and destroys my sanity out of my mind?
For there was that face again, the face that Pygmalion saw as he
made Galetea, the face mortals saw when the love goddess
surfaced from the white foams of the sea. There she was again,
appearing inexplicably into my life again, the red haired girl
from that fishing lake dock, the smile that accompanied the rays
of the sunrise. There she was, in a white dress, one of those
one piece dresses, where the skirt was connected with the top.
She was still checking the black dresses, looking around, that
short sleeve dress accompanied by her white leather high-heeled
shoes, a white leather purse hanging from her white shoulders.
Had I the courage to approach her? To say hi and smile with my
ugly face, a smile that is uncomparable to her own, and able to
say her name? And how will she respond, if she heard that I knew
her name? Will she think that I’m stalking her, since I still
remembered her name, and we seemed to meet each other quite
frequently, in the weirdest of places?
I had to approach her though, even though I still fear it, my
heart thumping nervously inside that cage of rib bars. I
shivered, thinking of the many outcomes that could come out of
this, the many futures that would sprint out of this point in
time. I walked silently behind her, still fearing of how she
would respond once she saw my face, and heard my rough voice
again.
“Excuse me,” I had said nervously, as I neared her from her
back. I had tried not to stutter in this sudden nervous attack,
and sound like a dumbass parrot, but it happened anyway, my body
unable to control this involuntary move. “A-Are you the owner of
a green Chevy st-station wagon?”
Elly had turned her head as soon as she heard my voice, her
green eyes showing me the surprise my stuttering presence had
caused her. Had she recognized my voice? As she turned around to
look at me, staring with widened eyes at my half-tan face.
“Tom?” She asked in that soft voice of hers, her hands still
holding that black dress she was looking at.
“Yeah.” I had responded in a childish way, trying to act as
normal as I could, and conceal the nervousness that thumped my
heart. “Elly, right?” Pfft, as if I didn’t know surely of her
name.
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, a smile now spread on her face.
“How are you doing today?” I said foolishly, as I extended out
my open palm. “Haven’t seen you in a long while.”
“I’m fine.” She said, that gentle smile still on her face, as
she took my hand and shook it. “What are you doing here?”
Following you so that I can see that gentle smile on your face
once again. “Um...” I had replied, while my mind worked rapidly
on a believable lie. “I was looking around for videogames, and
saw you here. So, you know, I thought I should at least greet
you to be polite and all, since I was passing you... You don’t
happen to know where the games section in this store is, do
you?”
“No, I don’t.” She replied, still with that gentle smile.
“How about you?” Yeah, great, Liang. Impress her by asking her
what she was doing here. Great move, you goddamn idiot. “And
what’s up with the dress and high-heels, did you just come here
straight from your prom or something?”
“No.” She laughed, her hands brushing the wild strands away from
her face. “I had to dress like this to fool my aunt.”
“Fool your aunt?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, as she put the dress back to where she had
taken it from. “I’m buying my aunt’s present for her birthday,
and since I didn’t want her to know about it, I had to come up
with something to cover it up.”
“Right.” I said, as I followed her around the rows of dresses. I
felt kind of embarrassed to be walking around in the women’s
department. But then again, I really didn’t care, since I was
here with Elly, I was still with her. “And?”
“And... You ask too much, you know?” She said, as her green eyes
looked at me.
“Hey, I didn’t start this conversation. You did.” I replied.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. You were the first one to say something as we
met.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, anyways, since I already heard the first half of the
story, I’m not going to stop haunting you till I hear the end of
the story.”
“Suit yourself.” She answered with a smile.
“And what made you change your mind anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know.”
“I don’t know.” She responded immediately.
“Well,” I scratched my head, trying to not sound like a fool,
even though I know I am one. “You know, telling me the story at
first, and then changing your mind, to hide the rest from me.”
“I didn’t change my mind. I just realized how personal this was
to me, and how I shouldn’t be telling it to a stranger.”
“I’m a stranger now?” I chuckled a little, trying to hide the
noises made by my still thumping heart. “Since when?”
“What do you mean ‘since when’?” She giggled, looking back at
me. We were still walking around the women’s clothes department,
not stopping for even a second, but just walking, back and
forth. I think she was just playing with me, for she didn’t stop
to check any other dresses around her, but just kept walking on,
away from me, as if enjoying the chase that I gave to her.
“Since when?” I repeated my question, a smile still on my face
as I followed her. “I know your name, you know mine, which means
that I’m not a stranger, since you know me.”
“But we’ve only known each other for what, ten minutes?”
“What did you expect, a whole lifetime?”
She stopped, and turned at me once again, that smile still on
her face. “Maybe.” She answered simply, as she quickly turned
away, and pretended to check the dresses next to her. Her cheeks
seemed redder now, for some weird reason.
“Well, it may happen.” I think that’s what I said after her
response, which left my mind and eyes wondering of how beautiful
she was, as her eyes met mine then. “So, come on.” I had said
childishly. “Tell me about your evil plan to fool your aunt.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to see if curiosity really do kill cats, or
not.”
“You’re weird.” she responded, a wicked smile on her face.
“That’s what I’m famous for.” I responded. “Weirdness.”
She looked back at the dresses again. “Hmm... I wonder which one
looks better.” She said, as she looked at the dresses again.
“I guess that means you’re not going to tell me, right?” I said,
plugging my hands into my jean pockets.
“Which one do you think looks better.” Elly asked, as she lifted
two dresses. One a sleeveless black dress, with a long skirt
covering the bottom of it. And the other one was a red short
sleeve dress, and a medium skirt to accompany it. Was she
playing with me once again? By talking away from our subject?
I pretended to not care about the previous subject anymore.
Maybe then she’ll tell when she lets her guard down. “I... Don’t
really know.” I responded.
“Well, just choose one.”
“I can’t.” I replied. “I don’t know how your aunt looks like...”
“She looks like me.” She replied, still checking the two
dresses.
“Really?” I said, just for the sake of responding her and
getting the conversation going. I couldn't picture her aunt
still. “Then why don’t you try them out? Since you look kinda
like your aunt, whatever looks good on you, will look good on
her.”
She seemed to think about the idea for a while. “That’s a great
idea!” She replied excitedly, as she quietly walked into the
dressing booths. I followed her, but stopped outside the booth,
of course. I rested on the wall right next to the booth, my
brown eyes looking out away from it.
“Did you come with any friends?” I asked her, to keep my boredom
away.
“No.” She cried inside the booth. “They talk too much, and would
have leaked the secret out before my aunt’s birthday.”
“The typical American High School girls.” I snickered a little
as I said this.
“What did you say?” I heard her voice asking from inside the
booth.
“Nothing!” I replied with a smile on my face. “Your aunt didn’t
say anything about you coming out alone?”
“She would have.” She replied, as zipper sounds were heard
inside the booth. “If I didn’t tell her that I was out on a
date.”
“Oh, really?” I replied, the smile on my face once again. She
was off guard now, just as I had predicted it would happen.
The booth doors opened, as Elly stepped out with the red dress
on. “How do I look?” She asked, as her head turned to check her
body on the mirror inside the booth. I was still on the wall,
watching her with my arms crossed.
“Pretty good.” I replied. But then again, I was a guy poisoned
by Cupid’s arrow, so even if she was in the ugliest dress on the
entire Universe of God, I would have seen her as the prettiest
creature ever still.
“It doesn’t fit me right.” She said after a few minutes of
checking herself on the dirty-surfaced mirror.
“No,” I shaked my head. “You look pretty in them.”
“Nah, it doesn’t fit me.” She went into the booth again, closing
the door behind her entrance. Sounds of her unzipping the dress
reached into my ears, before I had decided to ask again.
“So that’s why you were dressed so well, huh? Because you were
supposed to be out on a date, right?”
“Right.” More zipping noises from the booth.
I had smiled then, my eyes now turned toward the store’s
entrance. Wonder what the hell Rick was doing right now. Is he
looking for me? Or is he still in the Suncoast store, trying to
find that Anime title he’s been searching for months now? Does
he even know that I’m gone yet? Is he thinking of the same thing
as I’m thinking right now?
More people walked into the store now. Could they also be
searching for a gift for their aunt’s birthday? Could they also
be searching for a girl that they had fallen crazily in love
with? If they weren’t, then how many other people on Earth are
doing the same things right now? Right this second? How many
people are doing the same things as I am right now? How many
other people are having the same thoughts as I’m having right
now?
It hadn’t occurred to me before, but as I thought about it, I
slowly realized that I knew absolutely nothing in this world,
that my thoughts were worth as much as a water drop in the vast
blue ocean, that the reality of my existence were really nothing
more than a sand dust in the ever-moving hour glass. Humans are
like a garden with flowers of a thousand colors, each just as
distinct to the watcher as the next one, all melting into a
soothing sight to the viewer’s senses. As a flower dances with
that flower at the same time, forming small waves of color and
movement, a dance of the rainbow colors.
Isn’t that what we are? We always think that every thought of
ours is unique, that our every action is copyrighted to us in
the business world of fate. But is it true? What if the Gods are
lazier that we thought they were, and in a sudden attack of
senioritis, they decided to cut the corners and repeat some of
our actions as the same in our fates, as to save the work of
thinking up original fates for billions of people and living
beings every year. What if this is true, which would explain why
many people fall in love at the same second, why crowds have
same thoughts and emotions.
So should I consider my love for Elly special? Since dozens of
people are probably suffering at the same level as I am,
watching their loved ones appear before them, just to have them
disappear away once again out of their lives? So should I
complain that much to God about Elly’s sudden appearances and
disappearances? Instead of thanking him for letting me be with
her once again?
“How about now?” Elly’s voice broke me out of my thoughts’
hypnotic trance, as she stepped out of the blue-door dressing
booth.
My eyes went back to the source of the voice. “Whoa...” I had
uttered idiotically, my mouth unconsciously hanging open, saliva
ready to jump out onto the floor. I had then remembered of where
I was, and quickly, not to mention forcefully, closed my hanging
jaws.
“So, you like it?” Elly asked with an innocent smile, as she
turned to show me the whole 3-D surface of her body in the
dress.
Excuse me as I drool with my tongue hanging on the dirty floor
of the store, and my eyes pop out to observe the detail of your
body curves. “Yeah!” I had exclaimed excitedly. “You look
beautiful in it!”
In fact, Elly had looked more than beautiful in that sleeveless
black dress. She looked like a Goddess from the skies, for lack
of a better expression of words, an angel from the Heavens
above, something out of a beautiful fairy tale. I’m sure this is
not an original expression, since it has been used thousands of
times by the minds of men and women, as lovers say it to attract
the attention of the other, husbands think of the first time
they had seen beauties like that, and wives wonder if they had
seemed like that to their husbands, when they had first fallen
in love with them, so long ago.
But then again, I’m sure the wives still wonder if they still
look like that to their husbands, everyday during their good-bye
kisses, but can’t find enough courage to ask them about it.
“It’s as if the dress were made specifically for you...” I had
replied, my eyes dazzled by Elly’s beauty.
“Really? I’m glad.” She had responded with a smile.
“You should get one for yourself too, you know.” I suggested as
she went into the booth again, and unzipping sounds seeped out
of the blue door. “It really fits you very well.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t.” She replied from the booth.
“Why not?”
“Because I only have money for one dress.” She answered sadly.
“Hmm...” I said, as I reached into my jean pockets, and pulled
out my brown leather wallet. I counted the dollar bills I had in
my little money holder, before I raised my voice to ask Elly.
“When’s your birthday, Elly?”
“Why?” I could hear doubt in her voice. Could it be that she
still doesn’t trust me? But then again, I still haven’t seen any
husbands who fully trusts their wives yet, and vice versa, so I
guess it’s all right for her to mistrust me now, since I wasn’t
as close to her as a husband or a lover, but a fellow companion
in this journey of shopping that she was taking.
“I’ll tell you later.” I replied. I had two hundred and some
bucks then, which were meant to be wasted on Anime videos and
Playstation games. This is a nice break from my schedule, the
thought had occurred to me then, as I repeated my question once
again. “So, when’s your birthday, Elly? In June? In May?”
“It’s on July first.” She answered as she walked out of the
booth, back in her one-piece dress. “Why are you asking me
this?”
“July first, huh?” I said as I gave her a reassuring smile.
“That’s in like what, two, three, two and a half months?”
She looked at me with a weird look, as if she could read into my
mind with her hypnotic glance. “Why don’t you take another dress
of the same kind for your aunt too?” I had said once again, the
smile still on my happy face. “’Cause I’m buying one for you.”
“Oh,” She had answered in surprise, or, at least, she seemed
surprised as she said this. “No, I can’t accept this, it’s just
too expensive.”
“I knew you’d said that.” And I really did too,
for she seemed like the type of polite and well-educated girl
that would answer like that, in a phrase that’s not exactly from
her heart, but from years of being taught to say that, to lie
like that in a situation like this, no matter how differently
her heart felt from it. But ain’t that what politeness is? A
white mask that covers our greased face, a person that
substitutes our true human feelings, our true human being.
Politeness, just like the laws and morals that humans had
created themselves, are born out of what many of us like to call
‘white-lies’, a softening and elevation of the single word that
is ‘lie’. “That’s the only reason why I asked for your
birthday’s date.”
“What do you mean?” She replied.
“Just consider this the first part of your birthday gift from
me.” I had said this as I approached her, off the wall. “I’ll
give you the second part at your birthday, which is what, two
and a half months away?”
“But...”
“You’re not going to refuse my birthday gift to you, are you?” I
acted as if my feelings were hurt, which were not, and said in a
saddened voice. “You can’t be that rude, can you?”
She didn’t say anything, as she looked at the dress in silence.
Did she thought that I was really hurt? Sometimes I forget how I
can fool people through my acting, when I overdo it. Did I
overdo it then? Or she’s just thinking, trying to select a right
choice from her confused thoughts?
“So,” I had smiled then, convinced that she thought I was hurt,
and that a smile on my face will show her that I was only joking
about it. “How about it, Elly? Will you accept my offers, or
not?”
“I don’t think that there’s another one like this one...” She
had said sadly, her beautiful green eyes still on the dress.
“That doesn’t matter.” I had answered childishly. “We can just
get another one for your aunt, which will fit her just as well
as this one dress. So, how about it, huh?”
“I don’t know.” She replied in that same tone, standing as still
as one of the store’s mannequins. “What would she say if she
finds out that I have bought the same one as hers?”
“You can always tell her that that’s the only reason why you
bought her this black dress,” I had said, in my still childish
tones, digging deep into my huge vault of creative lies, to find
a perfect lie that would fit into this situation. “Because it
was the same dress as yours, so you guys can go out dressing the
same, just as twins, which will show how close your relationship
to each other are.”
“But what if we don’t get another one, and buys her another
dress? I could never live with myself if we just gave her a
dress that looks uglier than this one, specially on her
birthday...”
“That won’t happen.” I had said right away. Boy, is she loyal to
her aunt, or what. “We’ll buy her a dress that costs more than
this one, and if you can’t afford it, I’ll help you pay for it.
I’m sure I have enough for it.”
Her eyes finally left the black dress, as she looked straight
into my eyes, burning it with a feeling I had not known before.
I was first surprised by this new action, this new feeling I had
not known about it before. I had wanted to pull my eyes away
from this interlocking stare, since I wasn’t ready for it yet, a
novice in this kind of weird mating ritual. I wanted to pull my
eyes away, but couldn’t make my eyes obey me, since they were
now controlled by my curiosity and love, feelings far stronger
than anything your mind can give.
“You would do that?” She had said in a soft voice, almost a
little whisper in my ears. “For me?”
I didn’t want to break this moment with my rough voice, which
belonged in no romantic moment, or any moments with Elly at all.
So I nodded instead, a reassuring smile on my face.
“Really?!” She suddenly gave me a big smile, her voice quickly
shifted from her serene-sad voice, to her normal-happy spirited
voice, a complete one hundred and eighty degree switch, a total
change of her character and persona. “Thank you, Tom, thank you
very much!”
“N-No problem.” I had replied in a shock state, my eyes still
widened with surprise, surprise about her total change, her
metamorphosis in that one second of our times, that little blink
of our eyes. I was still shocked, as I watched at the smiling
girl standing in front of me, so changed from that other girl I
had seen a few moments ago. “Y-You’re welcome.” I still couldn’t
control my voice, or mask the shock by lowering down my level of
stutterings.
It hit me then, as she happily walked toward the hanging dress
rows once again, searching for a dress that would be perfect for
her aunt’s birthday. It hit me then, the answer to her sudden
change. She was acting sad, just as I had done before, but
wasn’t really sad. Aaargh, I had been fooled by that girl in
white?! Me?! The master of these acted and disguised feelings,
tricked by a red-haired girl?! Is this a sign of how lovesick I
am? Or was all those rumors about girls being smarter than boys
true?
As if knowing the answer would change the fact that that event
did happen, and I was tricked by her little acting. She did find
another one that looked similar to her black dress, but had
decided to go with something more expensive for her aunt. I
didn’t say anything, since I really didn’t care for it. It was
worth it, for every minute I had spend with Elly, for that
gentle smile I saw on her white face.
And so, I walked out of the store with a smile on my face,
alongside Elly, who carried the two large white bags with both
of her hands. “Want a ride?” She had asked me as we walked out
of the store’s shadows. “My car is just outside.”
“Nah, I can’t.” I had replied with a fake smile, hiding the
resentment of not being able to be with her any longer. “I’ve
still got to meet a friend of mine before I leave. He holds my
return ticket, you know.”
“I see.” She said sadly, or, at least, she seemed sad by my
answer. I wasn’t really sure of how she felt anymore, ever since
that last acting stunt she had pulled on me. She was quiet for a
while, as we walked quietly in the noisy Mall of Dayton.
We watched silently at the people passing us by, the senile
people wandering around like tourists in a foreign land, kids
running ahead, excitedly away from their loving parents, young
men laughing and pointing at stuffs displayed inside the crystal
boxes of the stores. It was a weird place to meet Elly again,
but then again, it was a weird love relationship I had with her.
So I guess I shouldn’t complain that much about the places we’re
meeting in.
“My number is 295-9865.” She said suddenly, as we approached the
exit of the mall, the sunlight pouring in from the glass doors.
“Huh?” I had replied in surprise, kicked out of my private
thoughts once again, not knowing what to answer.
“My number is 295-9865.” She had repeated once again, as she
turned to look at me, that gentle smile I loved on her face once
again. “Isn’t that what you wanted to ask me, Tom?”
“Um...” The thought haven’t really even crossed my naive mind,
which was so pleased at being with the woman I loved, that it
had completely shut down, to enjoy these moments of happiness
and peace. “Yeah...” I had lied with an embarrassed smile. “How
did you know about it?”
“I thought that you were the shy type.” She replied confidently.
“So you wouldn’t have asked me about it. So I knew that I had to
be the first one to cross the line. I knew you wanted to ask my
number, the way you’re hovering around me.”
Wow! She’s as good a storymaker as I am! “So, what’s your number
again?” I had asked her, as we walked out the obscure building.
“295-9865.” She repeated, as she still stared at me. “How about
yours?”
“Why would you need mine?”
“In case you don’t call.” she giggled as she said this, a blush
spreading through her white face, of a red different than her
hairs.
“Got a point there.” I replied. It was good too, since I’m not
really a master at remembering phone numbers, I’m not even an
amateur at it. It took me two whole years just to remember the
phone number of my house, and a year and a half to remember
Rick’s number. So I was kind of glad that she wanted my number,
in case I forgot hers. “My number is 293-5661, and 937 for area
code, in case you’re wondering.”
She seemed surprised when I told her my area code, but then
again, she said nothing about it, but displayed a happy smile on
her face. Wonder what that was all about? We were now standing
under the shades of the building, outside it. “Well, I guess
this is time to say good-bye.”
I nodded at her suggestion, even though I still didn’t want to
be away from her yet. “T-Tell me,” I replied, trying to think up
of some dumb question that would keep her with me for just a few
more seconds. “What would your aunt say if she found out that
you didn’t come out for a date, but just for buying her a
birthday gift?”
“Who says she would find out, Tom?”
“Well, she probably would, considering that if you tell her
about the name of some by in your school, she may decide to call
him, and ask him about the details of your date, you know?”
“Who says that I’m going to tell her that I went out with
someone from my school?” She had a new kind of smile on her face
now, a new smile that I've never seen her use before, a playful
kind of smile, a secret smile. Is it really a new kind of smile?
Or am I just imagining it.
“Well...” I managed to say, even though I was still wondering
about her secret smile. “I’m sure she’ll find out about the lie,
sooner or later.”
“Who says it was a lie?” She replied in an almost whisper once
again, as she quickly approached me, and kissed me on the lips,
just to quickly withdraw it out of my reach, after just a second
of our lips touch. It was just a quick kiss, not romantic French
kisses seen on TV, but just a preview of her kiss, that quick
short as a preview.
My eyes were wide as she pulled away, shocked so much that it
wasn’t able to shut them, or even blink them a little. My lips
were numb and immobile, poisoned by the kiss of love. My voice
seemed to have hid away from me, too shy to see the kiss that
Elly gave me. I wasn’t able to move, like a stone statue god
guarding the temple doors, full of expressions on its face,
lifelike but immobile to the world.
“Good-bye, my date.” She said happily, that secret smile on her
face, as she quickly danced away, childlike, like a girl playing
on a garden full of thousand-color flowers, enlightened by the
aroma rising from the flowers.
“See... Ya...” I had answered, my eyes still on her flowing red
hair, her smile now recorded into the memories of my heart. She
had gone once again, out of my life, but she did leave me more
than just a gentle smile on a beautiful face, she left me
something more to remember, a kiss from a midsummer’s dream, a
smile only shared by us. |
