I fervently long to be free.
From?
Destitute, state of inner mayhem or the suffocating mundanity?
Perhaps from the feverishly kissing and caressing love birds sitting right next to me.
G was on time. By ten, I put PP and Bebe on flight. G was waiting at the drop off spot before my call was through.
I leafed through the mails I retrieved from the mailbox.
There's nothing for me.
Nada.
Such is my life.
A probable synonym for my mentality.
Instead of mailing E her package, I entrusted Bebe and reminded her to keep me updated. She nodded, but eventually, she changed her mind and left a message via BJ. I felt hurt because I don't think I'd ever gain the recognition of the one that she could count on.
Seclusive life I live, as I told E. Please keep my updates between us.
G arrived early before noon. I wanted to offer him a croissant and some drink. He turned me down.
I figured he wanted to have some hotdogs and beer at the field. And I was right.
As to myself, I craved for burger, I told him; but I have to wait for BJ's return. Till then, I'll just bite my lips. Sweet as G, he let me have a few sips from his beer.
After three innings, G said he found it amazing that I was able to keep a still posture like that in that uncomfy bench.
I smiled back, without making further account.
I was kind of embarrassed to mistake the batter for a lefty. I simply forgot that batter usually bat positioning to the left side of the home plate. Or perhaps it's partially because I didn't see too well from the angle, without my glasses. So I put away the sunglasses and fished out my glasses from my purse.
I told G the contrast of spectators in the U.S. and Europe. I guess I am not used to the clamorous crowd in the setting of ball games here. He chuckled, asking me whether I followed the Wimbledon and commented that sports events are many a time social events here.
The guy next to me tried to start a conversation, yet I simply smiled and nodded, then I looked away. I'd rather pretend to speak little English so that he'd turn to other gals and leave me alone.
It was perhaps for the sake of my height or my appearance that most people have the least idea that I am really a shy person, who tends to be very awkward and unease. In a word, I am a quirky nerd in whatever social interactions I was in. I am always anxious and not myself in the face of unfamiliar people and in social occasions.
We never sat together, except in our own cars. Either he's driving or I was, now come to think of it, we never sat next to each other except in our own vehicles.
There was an invisible fence between us. G timidly tabbed my shoulder and told me about the art studios he's familiar with.
Earlier when we got off the green line, he walked ahead of me but headed toward the wrong direction for the connecting train station. It was then that I realized he might be a goody goody kid somehow. A good lad with good sense of humour, with integrity and humanitarian concerns.
On the way home, I reminded him that it was our last gathering, perhaps in this life time.
He nodded and there was silence.
I live a seclusive life. And I intend to maintain that quietness and solitude.
In this real life, I detest any intrusion of privacy, in whichever forms of infringement.
My life is segmented and it is my intention to categorize my relationships with human beings.
Colleagues, teachers, students, acquaintances, someone I know and friends, they are all like current relationships that have adversarial counterparts. Like exes. As for friends, there's little room, and the slots for friends, like allies, are subject to change by the totalitarian mii.
After we were seated, M came over to say hello. As he pecked on my cheek, I smelled his cologne, which was pleasant, a fragrance of lime. I had no appetite but didn't tell G because I knew he has been looking forward to dining here. He's saved up a bit for this fancy dinner. So I shared a big portion of my steak and sides with him.
When I joked that I intended to shake off ten pounds this summer, he was being sarcastic, saying that I ought to, for I look like a whale. I laughed a bit upon his exaggeration and sarcasm. He mentioned the interlude of the encountering with his girl friend, and in return, I told him my regret with my sacrifice over things, such as camping. G seemed to be astonished but amused.
Just a few hours ago, we were a bit disappointed that the ball game ended abruptly with a double play. He smirked and I asked him why. He said he found my response and reaction toward the double-play funny.
The night was young so I decided to drive him home. The sign of his Honda parked outside his lovely white bungalow suggested the presence of his family. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, telling him that I did not wish to intrude his life and his family. Other than that, I was shy too. He insisted, consoling that it was okay, most of the family was out of town. I gave in.
The house and the roomful of artifacts were pleasant sights. Walls of acrylic paintings and sculptures, even the kitchen wall was decorated with pots and pans in a very artful glamour.
At one point, my mind went blank and the only image appeared repetitively was the single lonely star attached to the café counter and at the very bottom of the ceramic coffee cup.
I saw sunflowers and all sorts of fruit trees and vegetables. Every corner of the yard, the garden and the sight of the hammock made me long for a space of my own.
If only, if only I had a corner like this, I'd...
Thus I said to G.
I hugged him goodbye after asking for the direction home. I wanted to turn around and waved at him, but I did not. I can't afford to have anyone notice the fully loaded sorrow in my eyes.
I overshot the turn. I felt lost.
On the phone, I choked with tears and sobs. That confused BJ.
Something was missing.
Or rather, something has returned to its place.
Anyhow, I felt lost. Vulnerably.
It was like a jigsaw puzzle.
FD knocked on the door, asking whether I farmed some keys, asking whether I was happy.
Then I found myself burst in tears.
No.
Now I realized that he might be the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle on the board. The symbolic and invisible board of my past, those pleasant memories, adorable faces.
After that, I would simply vanish. Evaporate.
Free? or just more buckets?
If only, if only one nightmare could cause amnesia...