In my cube again
Another sleepless night (salba-quota) and another sleepless day (waiting for a miracle). I came home at 5AM and since it was too dark out to sleep, I started cleaning my room. Accompanied by Rihanna, Katy Perry, and the Black-Eyed Peas, stayed up a good four hours removing cobwebs, unwanted pictures and old clothes from my prison cell.
The whole time I was holding a basahan and walis, changing curtains and arranging magazines, I was praying for a miracle. But I guess I had to initiate the miracle; and it came at 3PM , two hours after my two-hour nap.
We met at the mall again. He got a tattoo while I watched and fantasized that he would remember me whenever he looked at it. He might, I guess, unless he bumps his gorgeous head and forgets where he got the Alibata inked on his right well-sculpted bicep.
We did not have much time; he was supposed to meet his family for supper. At this point, he was hinting that we go to his hotel room. When we got in a cab though, he changed his mind and said it was probably not a good idea since it’s going to make things a lot harder.
Part of me wanted to just flee because I know the inevitable was now here. He offered to get off the cab but curiosity (and longing?) got the better of me and I insisted on going with him. He said we will just hang out in the bar in the lobby to avoid the inevitable. I just nodded, not sure myself whether I want to go up or not.
But he needed to use the bathroom and I went with him.
We talked for a few minutes, I turned to go and we hugged.
And there, in his arms, I snuggled close to the chest I might not feel again. I placed my arms around the body I might not hold again. I breathed him in, all of him. I memorized his dark face, his brown eyes, his full lips, even the graying hair on his side burns. I drank him in, all of him and I knew that I will forever thirst for his presence, his caress, his stare, his embrace, the feel of him consuming me, burning me and taking me to deeper waters.
I did not understand his actions though. We were in in each other's arms when he suddenly stopped. Just like that, saying that he was so worried. I felt insulted. I felt used. I felt betrayed. My senses numbed, I lay there for a minute, trying to dissect what just happened but nothing came to me.
Just like the prostitute Maria that Paulo Coello wrote of, I stood up, cleaned myself and put my clothes on. He opened the door for me and walked me to the lobby and then to the sidewalk to wait for a cab I never took.
All my dreams of K and I started to crumble under my feet as I walked the Ilustre perimeter under the soft drizzle much like the one we walked in together that dreamy afternoon. I wanted to cry but no tears came out. My heart has hardened, I was aware of that.
But I also realized one thing: I was in love with K. And there was no running away from it.
No comments:
Post a Comment