Post 604

Tonight’s going to be the 90th night since I told myself that I’ve found the one I’ve been looking for. We’re still very much together, despite the conflicts between me and my family about our relationship. There’s a little buzz here and there, but the sound of my heartbeat remains louder. And even if going the distance sometimes mean tiredness and unexpected house parties, I’m still on the ride. There’s not even the thought of letting go.

I realize how much it means to have someone to hold, someone who’ll remember you in the morning and put you to bed at night. Someone who’ll be there, waiting for you to arrive from a journey of miles just to be together again. We may not be in the perfect situation, and we’re not always in wonderland, but even in the midst of confusion and weakness, we hold on. Even if it’s not everything that I want sometimes, I know I’d still go for it the next day. And that kind of endurance and willingness to stay is what matters. Love. It’s not just about sleeping together. It’s not about mercy or staying for the sake of promises. It’s the feeling you get when you hold this person close and feel a sense of possession and being possessed.

Randomness turns to magic then bounces back to being ordinary, but Love manages to give it meaning, something more beautiful than the face of magic: nature.

LIVING IN A COULDRON OF TEENAGE DREAMS, NOW A TEEN MOM?

She dashes down the while-tiled staircase with a familiar feeling, one that is usually a mix of excitement and gladness, guilt and courage, but courage and courage for the most part. Earlier in the morning, she walked out of her bed-ridden grandmother’s door with a kiss, “Don’t worry, I will still come home!” despite her own mother’s asking, “Aren’t you ashamed of what you are doing?” Take the eyes of her virgin-bride mother, and you may consider this seventeen-year-old a rebellious, shameless, little girl for consciously defying the parental advice of not having sex until she’s thirty and married to some law assistant. It’s easy to overlook this teenager, with all the black clothes and the careless smiles and the eyes that seem to see nothing but her lover’s sight. When she’s reached the end of the staircase, she falls into the arms of her lover (and bestfriend), with the same hair and the same dark clothes, and the same dreams of their future together.

***

Earlier today, I was thinking about getting a pregnancy test and figuring out how the rest of my life would go in case I happen to find two pink lines there. However, it’s still too early to make suppositions because I’m waiting until Saturday, about five weeks since my last period and basically the fifth week of my pregnancy (if i’m pregnant), and when home testing is already reliable. But before all, I’d like to tell you guys that right now, I’m not really troubled or anything or worried or feeling bad about it. If I’m pregnant, I’m taking it wholeheartedly and am going to raise the baby together with his/her father. Kevin and I see tough times ahead, but we also know that we have to take responsibility for our irresponsible actions, and face the consequences, and we cannot leave our child cold and hungry.

I don’t see having a child this early as a hindrance for us to live successful lives. What matters is our will to stay together, achieve our goals, build a great family and keep our love strong despite the disapproval and discouragement from society. Never at once had I considered abortion except when I was sixteen. I’ve always dreamed of a family with Kevin, who is my best friend and the man whom I adore and love so much, and for hell’s sake I wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill our child. I’ve never doubted my desire to share my life with him and to give myself to him. From that dark afternoon when we were only seeing each other in silhouettes, and I broke into tears, realizing that I’ve found the one I have been waiting for, my love for him hasn’t changed and only grows everyday. Having a child or a wedding ring isn’t supposed to be my took to glue us together, we’ve had our bond strong even in the beginning.

Maybe we’re a little unprepared, but I take all of it as a wonder work of nature. I’ll push through next semester and file a leave of absense so I can take care of our child throughout his/her first two years or so. Sometimes my heart still beats loud and fast at the thought of it, but I know that I must embrace everything, of having two hearts beat inside my body, of being a mother. Kevin and I will just work it through and never give up; just work things out for our relationship and for our future child. I’ll keep you guys updated about about my test results, or when this post had just become a false alarm and I’m having my period already. So what’s it going to be like for my parents, his parents, for us? Coming up next on LM.

GOING HOME EARLY, OR GOING HOME EARLY IN THE MORNING

Today, I walked in like a stranger to my own home — open and silent, had given up waiting on me. The sun was already high and I had been travelling like a mexican hitch-hiker, wrapped in leather clothes and unseen self pity. Manang had slid the door for me, but she didn’t mean it like that. She meant to come outside while I just happened to be standing in front of the door. She saved me the ego-crashing act of having to knock on the door and begging them to let me in.

I didn’t come home last night despite my mother’s plea, or everybody’s concern. I wasn’t trying anybody’s patience, though yesterday, before I stepped out of the house, I had made up my mind to spend the night at Kevin’s house and pack some extra clothes. Neither was I little by little moving in to his house (I took back my toothbrush with me). We just really wanted to be together and spend the night, without having to be late at the train station and saying painful goodbyes in the midst of the night. But with mother’s begs and pleas in the surge of her text messages, I can only be a parental law-defying teenager, or Law itself, following nothing and on one but herself.

But I couldn’t go home; Kevin was suffering from a throat infection (from all the sweets he had been eating recently) and late in the afternoon, just before dark, he had to wrap himself since he was shivering with fever. Early in the morning I had already noticed his temperature, so I gave myself a little blame for not having given him paracetamol and strepsils before things had gotten worse. And now no one was there but me — to buy his medicine, to dampen his skin, to cook his dinner. I cannot walk alone all the way to the train station; Kevin wouldn’t allow it, as much as I wouldn’t allow him walk all the way back home, alone, burning. If there was a decision best to be made, that was to spend the night with Kevin and care for him, set aside the disdain I’d expect at home.

That was the third night we’d spend together. The first was when I succeeded in pulling up a lie about sleeping at the ladies’ dorm, finishing some project at school. The second was a half-lie about sleeping over at a friend’s house and being too tired to go home. I didn’t pull up a lie this time; I told mother straight that I was at Kevin’s house, nursing him, coming home tomorrow. After that, I ignored the rest of her messages and carried on with the night.

It wasn’t far from the other sleeping moments we had spent, but a little like that night when I was intoxicated by gin bilog and was out of my mind. I remember Kevin holding me close throughout the night and comforting me when the alcohol had gotten me crying. He caressed my back when I vomited at the bathroom. I still slept soundly, only managing to give him medicine at midnight, as I had told his mother. I was terribly upset by his being sick and I shared half his pain. No, I wasn’t finding our situation to be a painful one, of us being broke and helpless teenagers — oh wait, I’m the only teenager — but it was just as painful as it can be. Instead of a starry, shimmery night of chuckles and endless conversation, we were drooped like dead vines. Happiness isn’t all that there is in life, but even if we only had one reason to be happy about, and that was about us being together, I may say I was still happy to be with this sick guy. Dude, he’s like, my guy.

Then I woke up beside him, this guy who was my first thought in every morning, this guy whom I love and share love with, this guy who was the reason why I’m going to be screwed up at home. His face was still as pretty as it can get in front of my eyes, not quite innocent about the world, but are still captivated by the randomness of it. So I asked, “Bakit ba tayo magkasama ngayon?”

He replied, wide-eyed, “Nagtataka ka na ba sa atin?”

“Di naman,” I held him close, “Sa dinami-rami lang ng tao na pwede mong maging katabi ngayon, bakit kaya ako pa, ano?”

At this sweetly senseless question, he nodded off with a little smile, then I tenderly kissed him. I know that I love him, not because of the distance I’m travelling, not because of the hours I’m spending, not because of the part of me I’m willing to give him, but because of the sense of an infinite sanctuary when I’m only with him.

Later in the bathroom, in that one private moment, I inevitably ask myself if I had ever gone too far. Seeing my face in the bathroom mirror of another house, I can only realize being away from home, of being quite far from where I’m supposed to be. I blink at myself and think, “But heck, this isn’t just another house, this is his house, this is my lover’s, of the one I share half of my heart with.”

And just for the sake of mentioning, here is where I meant to be.