By Mae Himachan

HE HAD let me go.

We were sitting side by side in the silent chapel. It was midday. In the distance I thought I heard the bell ring for the second time, and the startled students rush like disturbed bees for their next class. I could hear the leaves rustling and banaba petals fluttering as a gentle wind passed. I heard so many things that I’d usually ignore. As the person beside me finally told me what he kept a secret for the past two years, it seemed that everything was in a vacuum, save for those happening outside that lonely chapel.

We were both silent. He was awaiting my reaction, and I was trying to absorb the shock of what he’d said: “I do not regard you as my best friend anymore. Ever since two years ago, I have disowned you.”

I turned away my face from him, lest my whole demeanor betray me and I ended up telling him what I didn’t want him to know. How I wanted to burst free from my inner cage. How I wanted to hit him and shout how he’d been more of a traitor than I was. And ask why he was doing this to me in the most painful way possible. How could he sit there so impassively, blurting out those words casually after all we’ve been through?

By some miracle, I managed a smile and told him that I would be alright.

All I could think though was that he had let go. He didn’t even have the courage to stay with me for the last time.

After he’d left, I remained rigid, letting grief eat its way into the vulnerable chambers of my heart. My thoughts ran around like spilled marbles I frantically tried to run after. When it finally struck me that everything was not a dream, the first tear slipped. The more I tried to wipe away the tears, the more they came.

I went back to the memories I cherished in our friendship: When he took time to teach me intricate facts I couldn’t grasp. When we laughed at the silliest things on our way home. When we tangoed under a starry night. As those times rushed back, the more tears cascaded down my cheeks.

Once, he told me that we may be separated from each other but the same sky still connected us. I had laughed because he quoted “Daa! Daa! Daa!,” a famous love-comedy manga series.

But now I have nothing to laugh at.

We may be under the same sky but even its beauty has some mystery. A clear blue sky will not be forever blue. It has to turn pinkish-red at some point or dissolve into pitch black. Even the stars, which take our breath away, cannot be reached. It is uncertain whether we can reach them, if these jewels will keep their place in the heavens for another billion years, if these stars can be seen the next night. The night sky masks the poignant uncertainty and change we are blind to.

I realized then that he had unconsciously prepared me for one of life’s lessons.
Glancing at the chapel’s piano, I could still hear the faint, sweet strains of a lonely song from long ago. I would’ve given anything to just have someone right beside me at that moment, someone who shared the pain.

The web of tangled emotions inside me finally undid itself. I wiped the cold wetness from my cheeks and smiled, genuinely this time. I had broken free from the cocoon of innocence, where I nurtured the belief that everything was going my way. I was now ready to decipher mirages from reality, to distinguish uncertain relationships from those that matter and will last.

“Zettai daijoubo (I will definitely be alright).” I focused on the lone image of Christ on the cross before me. ” Kanarazu (for certain).” (Sun.Star Cebu Weekend)

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