“It is time to let go.”

Surprisingly, I let these words slip out of my tongue sounding too nonchalant. Paul must’ve taken it as one of my witty one-liners and said, “Is that a line from a song?”
My gaze is still locked to him still and his to mine. I figured after a long and grueling deadly silence, he would be able to digest the words, even though a part of me wanted to take my words back, and wish my mouth should’ve gone dry.
It was like a staring game, one who breaks first, loses. It was Paul who took his gaze away from me first.
“You ordered too many, you should finish your food before its gets cold, you wouldn’t want that, do you?”, and took a huge bite from his quarter pounder. He was about to say something again, to while away a conversation I know he wouldn’t want to pursue, but there is simply no other way to get this done.
Halfway in sipping noisily, and perhaps, on purpose, from his cola,
I blurted, “This is what I want, and you can’t change it Paul. You can’t anymore.”
My voice was firm, but pleading. I want him to understand, and I knew that beating around the bush won’t do me good, and him, justice.
“We need to talk somewhere else.” I started to pull away from the chair.
I know he can sense that something’s wrong. He was never a fan of mushy talks, especially if I was the one who initiated it. But this time, I can feel that he would rather be deaf and blind than to hear what am I about to say, for the last time.
He lingered on his burger for a while, but figured that there was no way out of this but to just follow me. We stepped outside and the humid, summer breeze touched my skin, and began whistling tender notes of sullen and morose tune. In the corner of my eye, I saw Paul walk clumsily, trod after me, with his hands in his side pockets, his gaze afloat in the ebony sky, and his heart, about to be smitten.
We were walking, I with a heavy heart, and him clueless, in the silent and dim-lit parking lot when I turned around suddenly and faced him, teary-eyed.
It was him though, who spoke first.
“I honestly do not know why you are doing this, but whatever the reason is, it’s hurting me. And I do not want to hurt you by saying this, believe me, but I think I deserve to have my say, too.”
“I do not want to lose you,” he said, with a broken heart.
His piercing stare felt like a hundred knives that stabbed me a thousand times. I can see him clearly in the dark, a figure I knew too well, yet at this moment, someone who seemed like a lost stranger.
“Paul, I–,” I began, but my tears betrayed and outran me. I tried to wipe it as soon as it hit my shirt, but it flooded my cheeks rapidly that I just abandon the attempt and continued.
“I am so sorry. I know that I am being absolutely dumb and selfish to you. Don’t get me wrong, I love you. I do. But it isn’t enough anymore, we just need to end this.” The train of thought in my head the night before was gone. This wasn’t the choice of words I had in mind, I was saving my solemn side, but I guess when you are in the middle of breaking up, your mind won’t let you bolt crappy and fucked-up lines you memorized by heart from movies, where most of the time, things are superficial.
I looked at Paul through my clouded eyes, and saw a man, a different person, I saw Paul got hurt one too many times before, although in many desperate attempts to hide his problems from me, his eyes cannot mask away the pain. However, this is different. He was just looking at me, and for the first time, I saw the first drops of tears streaming down from his eyes, because of me.
“If love isn’t enough for you, for the both of us Chrissy, then what is?”
I am already crushed into pieces inside. No one told me that this is how it’s gonna be after nurturing a love after three years, all the passionate and vehement fire of love we shared together was washed away by my frigidity. It was now in spindly embers, as was my empathy.
I unconsciously touched the necklace he gave to me 2 years ago, and a sudden flash of memories came flooding back.
It was the fourth of January, I was near the riverside and enjoying the last day of Christmas vacation. Paul said he wanted to meet me, as he fondly calls it, we were 8 months buckled together. I figured he just wanted to spend the late afternoon before going back to school. From afar, I saw him, clad in white, with the last remnants of the yuletide season circling him and emphasizing his facial features and built. He looked extraordinarily beautiful, with a wry smile I never figured what was all about. A smile he usually wears in front of me. A smile akin to an Eros.
“Hey,” he said.
I was too busy admiring him that I didn’t notice he was already in front of me. He was holding up a white rose I didn’t noticed since he seemed to glow with a faint light earlier.
He gently planted a soft kiss on my cheek, I felt his warm breath and his sultry and manly voice whisper, “I’m gonna ask you a couple of questions.”
“Fire away,” I said.

“I’m gonna test your memory,” he started. Then there goes again his playful tone of a boy.
“What happened in March 20, a year ago?” He asked, with a wink.
“Oh, I see what this is. Well, that was when I said, ‘I’m agreeing to have a date with you every week.” I chuckled.
“What?! Fine. What happened on January 14, then?” His eyes were a distinct shade of hazel.
I exhaled, then breathed through my teeth, “That was when you said you wanted to go out with me. And oh, that you were deeply and madly in love with me, and requesting me to return your ardor,” I cannot contain it anymore, I was laughing.
“Hmm, sharp memory, you have.” He said, his chinky eyes squinting even more. He looked at the setting sun for a moment, momentarily captured by its splendor, then he inhaled, as if he was denied of air for a long time, and seemed to savor the memory.
I tried to mimic him, but as I was about to close my eyes and prepare to inspire a gasp of air, he turned, “What about January 4, a year ago?”
“What?”
I was still in the hang of enjoying the last rays of sun, and was taken aback, but after regaining my composure, I began to process the date.
I was pretending to tease him, as if I knew the answer but didn’t want to give it. However, he must’ve thought I forgot, because I really didn’t remember anything significant about that day no matter how much I rack my brain.
“You don’t know, do you?” He said with a small smile. I expected a little hint of teasing, even disappointment, for only a year has passed, and it was I, the girl, who was supposed to recall dates, even his dog’s birthday, and yet I faltered in his third, and probably the last on his list of questions.
“Ok Paul. I give up. What is it? Not your ex’s birthday, I hope not.” I said, and saw him coming closer.
“Close your eyes, Chrissy.”
He was pulling that serious-type of guy scheme again, but before I retorted, he said,
“I haven’t told you something yet.”
And as if the weight of those words pulled the gravity to my eyes, I closed them, as my heart began skipping a beat.
I then felt a cold and slippery material on my collarbone, at the same time, Paul’s hands brushing against my nape.
Eager to look at what I knew was a necklace, Paul, as if reading my mind halted me,
“Not yet.”
Butterflies began to swirl around my stomach, my heart was pounding, my chest was overwhelmed and my knees are becoming jelly. I was swooned over and felt, as young as we were, that the only people who matter in this world are the two of us in this dumpy riverside.
He held my hands and brought them into his shoulders and entangled my waist on his arms. My world was melting.
But Paul wasn’t finished yet.
He kissed my forehead and said the words that will always make me fall in love with him all over,
“You didn’t know what happened on that day on January because you didn’t know it yet, though I fully understood then why my thoughts are filled with you and why my dreams are only of you. It was the day my heart was bound, and then I knew.”
“It was the day I fell in love with you.”
My tears began to fall, the way it was falling right now. Right now, there is no sun setting, no river, no heart-leaping, inside-churning feeling of giddy and love. No slow dance, and definitely, no more ‘us’.
I unhooked the lock of the necklace, like how I was finally letting go of the first man I completely loved and will never be forgotten, kept in the deepest chambers of my heart and memory.
And as it was that afternoon two years ago, my tears fell into the emblem of his love.
I held out the necklace, I wanted to return it to him.
“Here. I don’t deserve this anymore. I want to give it back to you.”
But Paul continued to look at me.
“I love you Chrissy.” Then he took the necklace, held it tight, and without further ado, threw it with all his might.
“Maybe you’re right, Chrissy. Maybe you don’t deserve it. But neither do I. If that necklace isn’t good for you anymore, then what good does it to me either?” Paul had nothing but melancholy on his face. Yet, with that, I can still hear his heart beating out, crying for my name.
“It doesn’t Paul, and I will forever be sorry.”
I wanted to reach out for him, wrap him in my arms for the last time, engrave his soft eyes on my mind, trace his brows, nose, his lips and his chin for I know it will never be close to me again, but I also knew, that I will only betray the both of us by doing that, I will give him a bitter memory to ponder, something he will be haunted in time, and I may regret every single thing I did tonight.
So I did what I know I should do.
I smiled.
I smiled like the day he said he wanted to go out with me, I smiled the way I said to him that I am agreeing to go on a date with him every week, on which I meant to say, forever. I smiled, the way he loved me to.
And I saw a shadow of the man I love on his eyes, something not as dark as the ink-black sky.
And I turned my back on him. Hoping that he wouldn’t call my name.
And he didn’t.
And I wept.

 

February 2nd, 2009 by AngPagtalonNiMariaCristina This author has not entered any description about his/herself. If you are this author please update your biographical info and user photo on your profile after logging in, or you could just click here