Five more minutes
I was there, half drunk and half asleep. But my mind was having a blast. It was perfectly awake as I listened to his story about his law school days, his glory days. Drinking cheap gin bulag with squeezed calamansi had never been this good. And he made our late-night drinking spree better.
I have always believed that most people we meet just walk in and out of our lives. And a quotation I encountered during my college days keeps me going: “The only people you need in your life are the ones who prove they need you in theirs.”
I admit I have trust issues. I don’t want to get out of my comfort zone. And I do not have many friends, because I know I don’t need a lot of humans in my life to make everything better.
I am very specific about friends and foes. I label them. My boss is just a boss. We may have lunch together at the pantry but we are not exactly friends. I may have told you two silly secrets but that doesn’t mean I trust you. I tell you that I like your shirt, but that doesn’t mean I like you as a person.
Rarely do I let people into my life. But here’s the story: I woke up one day and I felt so sure that I wanted him in my life that I would like to keep him there, to add him to my list of exceptions.
For him, I will sacrifice everything and move mountains. I will travel from the North Pole to the South Pole just to see his face first thing in the morning and press his palm real hard before saying good night. He came into my life and, cheesy as it may sound, I was blown away.
He is interested in the things I love. I would complain about life’s little unimportant things and he would argue with me, but I like it. I like it when we debate and then laugh over the silliest things after. He knows how to pacify me, to calm the impatient me. But the thing that tops the list is that he was the first to make me realize that I can do it: I can have a successful, bright future even if I am working for an industry that most employees won’t really consider staying in for long. He told me I should have a goal instead of going with the flow. “You always have a choice,” he said. “But make sure you plan your life and take the path that will lead you to success.”
I am in love with the world because of him. Of, how great he is!
I want to have this man for my own. Unfortunately, I can’t. He belongs to someone else. And somewhere out there, a one-year-old boy misses him.
We have been together for almost a year now, pretending to exist as normal lovers. I try to ignore that fact that we aren’t – never really were. Every day I strive to hang on to our relationship – even if it is not right.
Today, we are holding on. But the time will come when we will have to let go. I have to. He has to.
Someday he will be a living proof that people can walk in and out of our lives. And I will be a miserable witness to it. All the memories, from our long Ayala Avenue walks to emergency room mishaps and stolen kisses will be dead and gone. And I can imagine us meeting each other after a couple of years and just saying, “Hi! How’s life? Where are you working now?” and then bidding each other goodbye during a Monday morning rush in Makati. We will meet like old friends, and feel awkward afterwards.
This hasn’t happened yet. It can, it may not. I prepare myself every day for the possibility that I will lose him just like that.
So why do we meet people – great, fantastic individuals – we cannot keep? Why do we have to invest on emotions and time and then when things become perfectly all right, that’s when we know it is not? And just like the song says, why is there a right love at the wrong time?
Maybe because some people are not really meant to stay. Some will teach you a lesson. Some will just share sloppy anecdotes. Others will change you. Others you will totally forget, including their names.
How about us? We are still in each other’s lives, still sharing views on politics and sports, and begging each other for five minutes more when though it’s time to face reality. We are still going against the norms of society. We are still doing what is taboo in this cruel and imperfect world. And I am still selfish, for sure.
Five more minutes?
Skya Francisco, 23, works as a call center agent.
