I wasn’t really in love with him when he asked me to be his girlfriend. The question seemed to pop out from nowhere. After all, we were just two friends having a drink after our summer class. We were both intoxicated and the beer seemed to cloud our college minds into incoherence. So, I said ‘yes’. I thought to myself: Sure. We’ll probably forget this when we’re sober. But then, as we made our way home, he took my hand in his and I remembered thinking that that moment will be etched forever into my memory.
Summer came and went. We were suddenly seniors on our last semester. Graduation was just a few months away from our grasp. I look back at our happy days and see myself sitting on the low steps of the university theater, laughing at something he said, his hair soaked in sunshine, his eyes dancing with the same joy I felt. Those were the happier times: holding hands at the shopping center, endless conversations about music and our dreams, a kiss on the cheek when it was time to go home.
We had our share of fights, too – every couple has. Ours was like a game of hide and seek. Every time I try to confront him, he runs away, hibernates for days, and wouldn’t speak to me unless I apologize first. I’m not saying that I’m blameless. I was pretty emotional back then, too. Most of the time, I was the one starting the fight.
We broke up one day. I cannot remember the exact reason why. This particular fight happened before graduation, resulting to a decision to end things. Deep in my heart, I was hoping that, somehow, we’ll fix this and get back together again. There wasn’t a thing I wanted more back then. Graduation day finally came and I found myself politely exchanging pleasantries with him – too polite for people who were supposed to be still friends.
Days after, we were both invited to an out-of-town celebration for our block. Fast-forward to a couple of beers and I was really drunk. I found myself sitting beside him, slipping into an easy banter, and then slowly slipping out of the crowd. He kissed me; I started to cry. In between sobs, I told him how much I missed him and how much I wanted for us to be together again. To my horror, he shook his head and I watched as his face hardened. He started to walk away without a word, made his way back to where the others were happily celebrating – everyone oblivious to the fact that my world was tumbling over.
My foolishness did not stop there. As soon as I regained composure, I joined the group, faking a smile as if everything was right in the world. The night wore on with endless supply of alcohol, making everyone as intoxicated as ever. I decided to try again; I had nothing to lose anymore. I saw my chance when we were getting ready for bed. In my drunken state, I begged him to stay with me. In front of everyone in the room. I was beyond caring. I begged and I pleaded. I repeated the words over and over, over and over, until the sense of desperation swallowed me whole that I had to stop and catch my breath. He just sat there, his eyes averted with a faraway look that I will always remember. “Just please go to sleep” was all he said. He turned away from me, left the room, leaving a silence so complete it was almost deafening.
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