Four Down, One To Go

I wanted to hug him but the guards were there in front of my car, looking at us.

* * * * *

It was time for me to tell him. Do not prolong the agony. So even though it was nearly 10pm, I dropped by his place.

I had to wait for 10 minutes in the car while he showered and changed, so I reclined my seat and napped. His gentle tapping on the passenger window woke me up. I unlocked the doors and he greeted me with a cheerful, “Uuuuy! He’s sleepy already.”

He was singing songs to me in the car. At a nearby restaurant he teased me, “You look hot.”

I told him I liked him but like was not enough. I told him I enjoyed his company but didn’t miss him when we were apart. I would text him because that was what I’m supposed to do, although lately at times that was what I wanted to do. A friend asked me: do I want to take it to the next level? Without hesitating I said no.

He had stopped singing and was looking down. When he raised his head up to talk to me, his eyes were shiny.

“Is it something to do with the fact that I asked you to lend me some money?” he asked. He couldn’t look me in the eye.

“No,” I answered, “but that helped crystallize what I’ve been pondering on for several days now.”

I tried to explain as much as I can. I didn’t do so well. I even said the “It’s not you, it’s me” line. Ewww.

* * * * *

For the first time I found out that he called me Mr. Vitara to his friends. Strangely that broke my heart.

* * * * *

He tried to be cheerful. He started singing songs again. “Weekend In New England.” “First of May.” “Someone That I Used To Love.” He’s got a jukebox in his head—just like me. And he’s got a wicked sense of humor—just like me. So why do I just “like” him and not “love” him?

* * * * *

Driving back to his place I wanted to hold his hand. He had retreated to his own world, listening to his iPod and singing silently to himself. As his building loomed nearer I pulled his hand into mine; he didn’t reciprocate nor resist.

* * * * *

I parked my car in front of his building. The guards were standing by the road and looked at us. He turned to me. “I want to hug you but the guards are there,” he said. “So good night na. Take care.” I wanted to say something but didn’t know what. “Good night na,” he repeated.

“Good night,” I said.

And he left.

* * * * *

Driving away, I started groping for my iPod in my car. I was seized by a nasty thought: I wonder how much he can sell my iPod in Greenhills? But then I found it.

I drove home to the tune of Erasure:
“I don’t wanna look
Like some kind of fool
I don’t wanna break
My heart over you
I’m building a wall
Everyday it’s getting higher
This time I won’t end up
Another victim of love.”