The Second Time Around

I felt like my head was about to explode.

I wish I was exaggerating, but I genuinely could barely make out anything on my phone screen. I had to blink a couple of times to even read the huge black numbers indicating the time, a feat I had been attempting for the past five minutes. At last, I emerged successful. It was thirty-six minutes after noon and I was sitting at the condominium lobby for almost an hour, trying not to writhe in pain.

The space was huge enough for me to fade into the background. It was a pretty fancy place, after all. Hanging in the middle of the ceiling was a massive glass chandelier that looked too heavy to even put up. Beside and across where I was seated were littered with similar sofas with people comfortably settled in. I even recognized a familiar face, that of someone I shared the same class with in my previous semester.

I could not really recall her name. To be fair, we had only been classmates in a minor course, and I was absent for at least half of the sessions.

She seemed to recognize me though, evident as she had been staring at me for quite some time. Well, I supposed that may not exactly be the case, since even strangers were staring at me. I tried to shake off the awkwardness by pretending to play on my phone, but the light from the screen only made me more nauseous. I was forced to confront the fact that I currently stand out.

While my vision was blurry, I could see well enough to take note of the weird stares I garnered from the people bustling in and out of the elevators. I could not blame them, really. With my chaotic hair, bloodshot eyes, and severely wrinkled jacket, it would be odd if I went unnoticed.

Rubbing my temples, I heaved out a sigh. I was torn between blaming myself for taking multiple cups of coffee this morning, or berating myself for drinking excessively last night that I had to take those cups of coffee to function for the day. Either way, I made bad decisions after bad decisions, directing me here, where bad decisions had always led me.

Sighing again to myself, I took out my phone. The light coming from the small rectangular box almost blinded me but I soldiered on, making a mental note to lower my phone brightness the next time I decide to drink myself out of existence — either through alcohol or coffee. I composed a message, albeit an unintelligible one, to my only salvation in this dark, ghastly hour. Unfortunately for me, my only salvation always arrived late.

Before I could hit send, my phone was taken from my hand abruptly. The caffeine in me prepared me for an offensive stance, but my hangover kept me glued to my seat. Realizing that my pathetic posture was not going to scare off anyone, I settled for a glare. As soon as I raised my gaze however, it was met with an equally threatening scowl. My expression softened in a snap, as if in submission.

“You look like hell,” Luna commented, her frown deepening before her face contorted into a yawn. She ran her fingers across a few strands of her disheveled hair, attempting to straighten it but to no avail. She gathered a few stares from other people walking, partly because she stood out in her sleepwear, making it very apparent that she had just woken up at a time when everyone had already finished their lunch. Luna either did not notice or simply did not care. Knowing her, it was definitely the latter.

Partly, however, was because her sleepwear of choice was an oversized shirt, leaving it to imagination whether she was wearing anything underneath.

A blush crept up my cheeks as I caught myself saying that — in my head, that is. I mentally shook my head and gathered the courage to reply, “I fought my way out. What took you so long?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I texted you last night. It had a read receipt.”

“Oh, my bad.”

I blinked a couple of times, taken aback. “Oh wow, you’re actually apologetic?”

“I meant that I misspoke. I did know you were coming. I did not want you to.”

Of course. “Some friend you are,” I grumbled.

She paused, angling her head to the side, almost dramatically. “What was that?”

“…Aren’t you my friend?”

“What? You ought to speak louder.”

I obliged, increasing my volume. “You are my friend, right?”

The moment I saw the twinkle in her eyes, I realized I had made a horrible mistake. I glanced around, and some stares were now directed at me again. The group of people standing near the entrance was giving me even stranger looks, and I could feel the blood — those not yet replaced by coffee and alcohol — rush to my face.

Luna let out a soft laugh, looking genuinely happy with her act of mischief. That kind of made up for it.

“Let’s get going,” she said as she returned my phone, before beckoning me to follow her. Surprisingly, I was able to stand up without making that much of an effort. For some reason, my body felt lighter now. Maybe the caffeine was wearing off.

She talked to the people at the counter briefly to verify my visit, before walking with me towards the elevator. When it opened, a man about to step out of the elevator stopped his tracks upon seeing Luna. Instead of getting off to the ground floor, which was obviously his initial intention, he took a dramatic step back to make way despite there being enough space for the two of us. He smiled at Luna, as if he had done her a favor. She nodded in response with a blank expression on her face before stepping inside. I used the glare I saved up earlier on the man, but he did not pay any semblance of attention to me. His eyes were fixed on Luna.

I took off my jacket and placed it around her shoulders. She jolted a little in surprise, and opened her mouth to protest, but I not-so-subtly motioned towards the man. After rolling her eyes, she drew the jacket closer to her body begrudgingly. I looked at the man who now had a grimace plastered across his face, and I smirked in return. Defeated, he got off at the fourth floor, probably opting to use the stairs instead to get back to the ground floor. I tried to fight off a satisfied smile.

Finally, we reached the eleventh floor, getting off the elevator to head to her unit. She opened the door and darted straight for her couch, flopping on the pillows dramatically as if riding the elevator had exhausted her. I shook my head and arranged the strewn shoes on the doorstep, picking up a few articles of clothing along the way. I neatly placed them on top of her coffee table before sitting next to her.

I slumped on the couch, closing my eyes in an attempt to relax. This was short-lived, however, as I felt something cover my face. My eyes snapped open, coming face-to-face with my jacket from earlier.

“It reeks of cigarette,” she said, scrunching her nose. “I can’t believe you made me put that around my body.”

“The man was checking you out.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “So? You regularly check me out, and you don’t see me covering up, do you?”

I could feel my face warm up again as I scrambled for a retort, but could not come up with any. She was not exactly wrong. I just did not realize I was that obvious. Plus, I was not as creepy as the man in the elevator. At least, I did not think I was. I personally knew her, and that counted for something, right?

Seeing my response, or lack thereof, she smiled in satisfaction. Not wanting to dwell on the topic any longer, I brought up the reason for my visit, “You have to accompany me.”

“‘Have to’ is such a strong word choice, Clyde.”

“The urgency of the situation requires it.”

She scoffed. “You’re too dramatic.”

“I’m serious, Luna. I can’t do it alone.”

“Then don’t do it at all. No one’s forcing you.”

“It’s common courtesy to bring back your ex-girlfriend’s stuff when they ask for it.”

Luna laughed. “Is that what you’re calling her now? Ex-girlfriend? That’s a mild way to put it. Inaccurate, too.”

I had grown accustomed to her bluntness, so I merely carried on with the conversation, fully aware that it was about to turn worse. “What should I call her, then?”

“How about your ex-best friend’s girlfriend that you had a two-year-long affair with?”

I scratched the back of my neck. “That’s a mouthful.”

“Chew it.”

“Whatever it is you want to call her, I’m supposed to meet with her later this day. Come with me, please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No,” she repeated, enunciating this time.

“Consider it as your birthday gift to me.”

“I wasn’t planning on giving you one.” Luna sighed heavily. “Look, why don’t you just offer to send her things back to her place instead of meeting her in person?”

“I- I don’t…” I stammered, unable to come up with an immediate response. To be honest, I had never really thought of that. Also, I did not want to assert myself when it came to her. Well, I did not really want to assert myself when it came to anyone. “It seems rude to bring it up now,” I muttered, rubbing my wrist.

I expected to hear another disappointed sigh from her, but instead she said, “You should buy a wristwatch.”

When I looked up to meet her gaze, I saw her staring intently at my wrist. That made me want to rub it even more, but I felt diffident to do so, so I stopped myself and fiddled with the embroideries on the sofa instead. In the corner of my eyes, I thought I saw her smile, but it disappeared as if it never appeared in the first place.

I spent an hour and a half there trying to convince her, despite being fully aware that once Luna had made up her mind, nothing can ever sway her. Dejected, I decided to head out. Well that, and the fact that Luna was shooing me so that she could get more sleep, since apparently she pulled an all-nighter editing a video for a film course.

As I stepped out of the condominium, I checked my phone again for the time. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath, realizing that it was twenty minutes before my designated meeting with Ysa in a coffee shop approximately an hour away from my current location. I rushed to my car and sped toward the place, not wanting to keep her waiting. After running a couple red lights, I reached the place ten minutes earlier than I probably should have been capable of.

Still running late, I quickly parked and entered the place, running my apology spiel several times in my head. As I headed inside however, a quick scan of the place failed to yield a familiar face. It seemed that I arrived before her despite arriving late myself. I sat at the farthest corner of the shop, beside the window. I almost forgot to stop myself from ordering coffee. Honestly, I did not need to be any more nervous than I was now. Instead, I opted for a cup of hot chocolate and a slice of cake as it dawned on me that I had not eaten anything yet. Come to think of it, neither had Luna. Perhaps I should take out something for her as well.

I paused. “Ysa would notice,” I thought to myself, before giving myself a mental scolding. “It doesn’t matter. We’re no longer dating,” I reminded my own brain. I could hear Luna laughing at me for even using the term ‘dating’. As one can tell, Luna largely influenced my decisions even when she was not physically present.

It was a rather funny thought, given that the first time I met Luna, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. In my defense, it was not the most pleasant encounter. In fact, meeting outside a motel was perhaps the least magical experience one can ask for.

I met Luna almost a year ago. I was still having an affair with Ysa back then. We were supposed to head to a motel to take advantage of her boyfriend Earl being away for the weekend to attend an out-of-town camping trip. However, on the way there, we got into a fight, leading Ysa to get out and hail a taxi to take her back home.

‘Got into a fight’ may not be fitting, since the animosity was not entirely mutual. It was merely Ysa who got mad at me, as anger was somewhat a foreign concept to me. I knew what it was, of course, but I could not recall a time that I genuinely felt it. As odd as it sounded, I seemed to take time to decide how I felt. At that time, I decided that instead of angry, I felt lonely.

I asked Ysa a question that I raised all the time, often to her disdain. I could not help it. The question always nagged me.

“Are you going to leave him?”

Every time, Ysa refused to answer. I would never press on the question. Perhaps deep down, I was not sure if I truly wanted to know the answer. That time though, it took that one question for Ysa to storm out of the car, leaving me behind.

Not knowing what to do next, I continued to park outside the motel. I leaned against my car and decided to smoke, since I really could not be bothered to do anything else. It must have been a pathetic picture, now that I look back on it. I did not mind. Well, not entirely, at least. I knew I was pathetic.

Earl was good to me. He was my best friend, and I knew in my heart that he genuinely cared about me. He was just that type of person who was attuned to the needs of others, even sometimes at the expense of himself. He was too good for the world, too good for Ysa. I knew it, and deep down I could tell that Ysa knew it as well, but we never once talked about it. I personally did not want to, because I knew that the reason behind our whole affair may lie somewhere there, and I would have to confront the fact that Ysa might not have truly loved me.

I could not take that, so I avoided thinking about it altogether. As I puffed on my third cigarette, someone quickly and abrasively pulled it from my lips. I felt a cut on my lower lip, but before I had time to react, someone else had already groaned in pain.

I took a step back to process everything that just happened in front of me. I even contemplated rushing to my car and driving away. But my feet were glued to the ground; my eyes moving back and forth the two figures in front of me.

It was a woman who took the cigarette from me, and from the looks of it, she was around the same age as I am. I did not have the time to fully register how she looked, but it became quickly apparent to me how attractive she was. I did not dwell on that too much though, since I also deemed her as scary. Maybe even a little crazy. For after all, what kind of sane person would grab a lit cigarette from a stranger and push it towards another person’s neck?

The man who cried out in pain appeared a bit older than we were. Wearing a suit added to this effect. He immediately slapped the cigarette away and defensively covered his neck.

“The fuck was that for?” His other hand was visibly shaking, and his face was red from anger. I knew he was going to hurt her, so I instinctively stepped forward to shield her from his slap. Or at least, what I thought was going to be a slap. As it turns out, it was a punch.

Having been unable to prepare for taking that kind of hit, my knees buckled and I collapsed to the ground. The impact hurt more than the punch itself, for my head had bumped into the concrete. I heard a gasp, and felt someone rush to my side. I felt a soft hand caress my face and attempted to open my eyes, but the hand softly covered them, as if instructing me to keep them shut. I obliged.

“Shit!” the woman exclaimed, her voice trembling, “He’s unconscious.”

“What!?” I could hear the man’s chattering teeth. I felt the woman’s hand slip to my neck, checking my pulse.

“His pulse is weakening,” she continues, her voice convincingly laced with distress. She almost convinced me, had I not been the subject of the conversation. “I think you might have killed him, Kyle.”

I heard a string of curse words, before they turned into hurried steps whose sounds became less and less audible.

“What a fucking asshole,” I heard the woman utter. “You can open your eyes now.”

I did, and my eyes met hers. I could make out her face more clearly this time, and I confirmed my initial impression. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful. When a grin formed on her rose petal lips, I felt that I had to pause to catch my breath.

“You are an amazing actor. What’s your name?” There was a certain glint in her eyes, as if she was genuinely praising me. I actually felt a little proud of myself, before dismissing it as soon as I realized the oddness of the situation.

“Clyde,” I groaned in response.

“Clyde,” she repeated, smiling sheepishly. “Let me treat you to dinner.”

I let out a heavy sigh as I returned my phone to my pocket. I had been waiting for three hours, and Ysa only texted me now that she would not be able to make it. She did not even feel the need to type in a reason why.

I did not get mad. I still could not, I think. Once again, sadness filled me up, and I felt like I was the same pathetic guy I was back then, taken for granted and easily disregarded. I had to remind myself that I already moved past the affair, but that did not stop me from feeling like a piece of shit still.

Unable to push it out of my system, I left my half-emptied third cup of hot chocolate and headed outside for a smoke. But it became immediately clear to me that I could not. Not because I was on withdrawal or anything but because when I took out the box, I discovered that the sticks were replaced with candy cigarettes. For the fourth time this month.

Shaking my head, I could feel a smile form on my lips. “Goddamn it, Luna,” I murmured to myself as I bit into the candy. After two candies, I returned to the coffee shop and ordered two slices of cake for takeout. I then walked back to my car and drove to the mall, wondering what brand of wristwatch I should buy.

“I can’t believe you sent that,” I told Luna, panting heavily after chasing her around her unit and failing miserably.

“You sent it.” She raised the phone at the level of her cheek, giving it a little shake. “It’s your phone.”

I slumped on the couch, my face flat on the cushion. “I am so screwed,” I groaned, albeit coming out incoherent. I was pretty sure Luna got what I meant, given that she was quick to reply, “It’s a well-crafted message. Brisk, direct-to-the-point. I even typed in the punctuations the way you usually do.”

“It’s rude.”

“It’s fitting. You’ve been obsessing for weeks over a single box of knick-knacks that she frankly has no use for.” I looked up, just in time to witness the frown etching on her face as she continued, “If she wanted those things so badly, let her come to your place to pick it up. That’s what I did back then, remember?”

She motioned to the huge surrealist painting beside the door connected to the balcony. I bit my lip upon recalling the incidents that preceded its placement. That painting was supposed to be my final project for a major fine arts course. I never got to pass it. I used to work on it whenever I stayed at Ysa’s apartment because she said she liked to watch me paint. She told her roommate that I was her cousin, as they knew Earl to be her boyfriend.

When Earl discovered our affair, Ysa begged him for hours to take her back. I stayed outside the entire time. Her roommate shot me a sympathetic look before leaving — or was it a look of disapproval? I could not tell. Maybe it was a mix of both. It was past nighttime when they came outside, holding each other’s hands. They did not say a word. They did not have to. I left her place wordless as well.

In a month and a half, it would be their fifth anniversary. From what I heard — and I tried not to hear anything — Earl was only waiting for Ysa’s graduation before he planned to propose to her.

After that incident, Ysa texted me briefly from Earl’s phone, telling me never to return to her place. Perhaps she checked if I got the memo that we were ‘broken up,’ air quotes courtesy of Luna.

It was the last text message I received from Earl. He never talked to me after the incident. Not to shout at me, not to berate me, not even to ask me how I managed to betray him so shamelessly. Nothing. I heard absolutely nothing from him, and yet up to this date, the thuds of his steps whenever he walked past me in the halls were still the most heartbreaking sound that ever reached my ears. He simply acted as if I never existed.

The painting I left in Ysa’s place was due the following week, and I texted her number asking if I could get it. She did not respond. I guess she thought I was looking for an excuse to see her. In a way, perhaps back then, she was not entirely wrong. However, I also genuinely needed to retrieve the painting, and I could not contact any friend to help me since they were all mutual friends of Earl’s. They easily took his side. I did not hold any grudges. I understood. If I were them, I would have chosen him too.

Desperate, I took a shot and messaged Luna, even if we barely had any interaction after the motel incident and a few brief encounters on campus after I learned that we went to the same school. To my surprise, she quickly responded, and we met up so that I could further explain the situation.

Luna told me that the only reason she agreed to see me was because she was impressed that I was able to do something so ‘ballsy,’ reaching out to an almost complete stranger about a very delicate and complicated situation. It only dawned on me how out-of-character my action was when she pointed it out, which made me feel extremely awkward. I rubbed my wrist from beneath my long sleeves. Her eyes suddenly narrowed, stopping mid-way from talking, and she fixated her gaze on what I was doing. She pressed her lips into a thin line before shutting her eyes closed and taking a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, it met mine, and I saw her lips curve upward into the gentlest smile I have ever seen. “What’s her address?” she asked, marking the start of our strange friendship.

I almost reached out to rub my wrist, but the wristwatch I recently bought stopped the contact from happening. I think of how Luna was pleased with my purchase, and I fought off a small smile from appearing on my face.

When I turned to look at Luna, she was still staring intently at the painting. Even after she retrieved it, I was unable to submit the painting because it reminded me too heavily of Ysa and I could not find it in me to let her go. I had to retake the course the following semester. During the first few days, my eyes welled upon the mere sight of the painting, rendering me unable to do anything. Texting Luna again, she eventually took the painting from me, and it had never left her condo unit ever since.

“I saw Andrea today,” Luna commented, still looking at the painting.

“Oh.” My eyebrows shot up upon hearing my ex-girlfriend’s name. “How is she doing?”

“She seems to be well,” she uttered with a satisfied expression. “Not everyone cries over you, you know.”

When I did not respond, she looked me straight in the eyes and asked, “Did she ask you the question?”

I nodded. She shook her head, muttering, “You sad, little boomerang.”

I frowned at the comment. “Boomerang?”

“Broken in the middle yet just keeps coming back.” She motioned the trajectory with her index finger.

“That’s a rather beautiful way to put it.”

“Really? I think it’s a completely ugly, horrid thing.” With a hint of a smirk, she added, “Man, you are so screwed.”

After saying that, she turned her back on me and walked towards the balcony, passing the painting on her way. I followed her. The sun was just setting, and the glint in Luna’s eyes suggested that she had been looking forward to seeing it. I knew for a fact that this was her daily routine. Around the same time every day, she would head to the balcony in order to watch the sun set. I had the opportunity to join her from time to time, watching her lean over the balcony and silently admire the sky.

I had come to know Luna. Physical appearance alone, I was confident I could draw her face from memory, right down the mole just below her bottom lip. I had always been adept in drawing, after all. Yet for some unknown reason, I could never bring myself to start sketching her. A part of me was irrationally afraid of God-knows-what, and up until now, I had yet to draw a single line of her.

A small smile painted on her lips as her eyes followed the sun descending out of our sight. I found myself smiling as well. “Damned,” I replied in an almost whisper, not wanting to break her trance.

It was true that Andrea asked me a question, but it was different from what Luna had in mind.

After my ‘split’ with Ysa, I flung myself into relationship after relationship. None of them worked out. In fact, none of them even made it past three months. One came close, but she had asked me a question that I did not have a definite answer to. It was always the same question. It may be phrased in different ways, but it had the same underlying idea.

“Can you let her go?”

The question used to allude to Ysa. It made sense, as I had been at her mercy for years. Ysa was the habit I thought I could never quit.

But that was not the question Andrea asked me. It had not been that question for a while now, in fact. The question was not even a serious one. It was very simple, even to the point of absurdity.

She asked about my favorite ice cream flavor. That was it. It seemed harmless enough. I thought so too at first, so I promptly replied, “Mint chocolate.”

Needless to say, I was not prepared for what followed after. She sighed heavily and looked me dead in the eyes. I saw resignation in her eyes. Sadness, too. Even before the words fell out of her lips, I already knew what was coming.

She asked if it was Luna’s, too.

It was.

We could not stay together after that.

Luna was right, in a way. I was a boomerang. Broken in the middle, yet for some inexplicable reason, I just kept on coming back. She just had the wrong idea who I keep coming back to.

“Luna,” I heard myself call out to her as nighttime started falling in. She turned back to look at me with probing eyes, waiting for me to speak.

Plenty times, on the same spot, during this exact same time, I thought again and again of confessing to her. There were times I came close. But as I stared at her, her dark brown eyes, her rose petal lips, and the adorable mole just below her bottom lip, the words seemed to be stuck in my throat.

I thought of Ysa’s crying face when she pleaded with Earl to take her back, getting down on her knees as she declared her love for him. I thought of Earl’s cold stare that followed me as I left her apartment, and how he never uttered a single fucking word to me ever since that night. Two years ago, I chose love over friendship by deciding to cheat with my best friend’s girlfriend. That single decision ruined the three of us, causing a rift that could never be mended. Only with Luna’s help was I able to pick up pieces of myself again, and even now I wound myself from time to time in doing so.

I loved Luna. Perhaps I had only ever loved her. With Luna, I managed to successfully balance myself on the very thin line separating infatuation from obsession. From the moment I started to find myself again, I had only ever been in love with Luna. I was so in love with her to the point that it was painful to even think about it. Andrea and all of my former girlfriends made me feel alive, and yet I kept coming back to the person who kills me without even knowing it. But as I stood there, ruminating on how hopelessly in love I was with the woman in front of me, I could not seem to find my voice.

I took steps towards her, until there was only a short distance left between us. Her eyebrows stitched together in curiosity as to what I was about to do next. Pausing to take a breath, I mustered all of my energy to smile and say, “Let me treat you to dinner.”

Two years ago, I chose love over friendship. Today, I chose friendship over love.

Luna smiled back and nodded. As my eyes stayed on her, I took in her features: her dark brown eyes, her rose petal lips, and the adorable mole just below her bottom lip.

With Luna, I chose friendship over love. But God, how I loved her.

I reached out my hand, inviting her to return inside. She gave me a strange look, but eventually placed her hand on mine, chuckling softly at my antics. As I intertwined my fingers with hers, a bitter smile painted on my lips.

At least this way I will always have her, right?