Ghost.

There’s a girl, a girl you used to know

Now she’s just a ghost

An apparition, a constant vision that you

just can’t let go.

-Ghost, Liz Akhavan

I saw you from afar in that lovely blue dress while entering the restaurant, which you earlier picked for us to have dinner. You said that I will enjoy the shrimp soup with bean sprouts, coriander, and minced pork. I waived my hand signaling where I was, and you smiled sheepishly, the same smile that attracted me to you when we were both sixteen.

You removed your scarf, and held my hand. “Hey, how are you? I haven’t seen you for ages,” you said. 

It was a deliberate move for me. I never attended two of our high school gatherings, and I only met our closest high school friends in Manila or in the province.

“I’m in a happy place,” I responded. “By the way, can you just order for us? I’m not sure what’s best in this restaurant.”

***

We were both sixteen when I told you that I liked you. I remembered it vividly. It was during our campaign for Student Council officers. I was running for President and you were running for Secretary. 

I was the fat nerd in high school. I was never the cool kid. So when I told you that I liked you, I thought you will laugh. You never said a word, and I was a bit devastated.

But everything changed when you told me that nobody still asked you out for prom, which was quite funny and peculiar, because you’re one of the prettiest girl in school. I then asked you out if you could be my prom date, and you immediately said Yes.

In a weird twist of events, we were crowned Prom King and Queen during our Seniors’ Ball. When you rode my scooter in your long black dress, I thought I was the happiest guy that night. I am with the girl of my dreams, and we were looking at the horizon with so much happiness.

I kissed your cheek when I said goodnight after bringing you home. You said that you had a wonderful time. I even thought your Mom was eavesdropping the whole time.

***

“The soup is really good,” I said.

You gave me this grin: the same I-told-you-so that you so often gave when we were together. 

“You’ve been here for 12 years. You don’t plan to go back to the Philippines?” I asked.

“Taiwan is pretty much home for me. Even when we’re young, we always go here on summer.”

I then remembered how you always disappeared during summer, and people would always ask you where you went at the beginning of school year. You always said you had to go to Taiwan. 

Taiwan seems like an imaginary place for us when we were kids. We only learned in second year high school that you had to go back to Taiwan every so often since your Dad is Taiwanese, and you have to maintain a certain time for residency.

“I was also able to take the licensure exams here for nurses after taking some night classes. That took me more than a year.”

 ***

I was pretty much devastated when I learned that you had to leave the Philippines, and migrate to Taiwan. You just passed the Nursing Board Exam, and I am contemplating of taking up law. 

I even unabashedly asked you to choose our relationship, but you said that you can’t pretty much go against your father. I cried the whole night. It was the weight of the whole world along with our dreams crashing before my very eyes. 

***

“So how are you?” “Why haven’t I heard anything from you from our classmates?” you casually inquired.

“I’m in a relationship. For quite some time now,” I smiled.  You asked who the person was, and that I have to introduce her to you.

“Him. He is a guy,” I looked directly into your eyes as if trying to pierce your soul.

I held your hand, and in the stillness of the moment, I said, “You will always be my first love. My first kiss. My first heartbreak.”

The night even became lovelier with our stories, both funny and heartbreaking. We’re two old friends lovers who shared a night of remembering our past lives in a not so distant time. 

***

At the door, just before we parted, I kissed your cheek. I said goodbye, and thanked you for meeting me. 

“Oh, by the way, he is also a Virgo,” I said with a grin. We both laughed.

Remember.

There is a madness that never wanes, like the scorching heat of a 3 o’clock sun.

Inside a bus going nowhere, I look outside and all I see are fields that stretch across the horizon. 

I sigh. I look at the notebook given to me. There is only one word written in red ink: Remember.

***

I find the room empty expect for an old table and an even older chair. The dilapidated walls greet me like an old friend. I saw an orgy of cockroaches seemingly oblivious to people.

The landlady turned over the key. “The rent is Three Thousand Pesos per month, and I expect that you pay it on or before the fifth. That’s already inclusive of water, but your electricity will depend on your consumption.”

I sat on the chair and contemplated about how things have gone by, and why am I here.

***

All I recall is running away from the world. 

My feet are tired, but a voice is constantly screaming inside my head: RUN.

I heard gun shots. People are shouting. Some words are inaudible, but the noise is overwhelming, deafening to a point.

I continue to drag my feet into the unknown. I can feel the weight of my body, with all my fears, but I continue running. I think my life depends on it.

Then all I remember is being inside a hospital with bandages all over my head.

***

I slept on the floor using some old newspapers that I found scattered in the room. The headline screamed victory for the government as it has rounded-up the last batch of revolutionary forces in Quezon Province.

http://insights.looloo.com/amazing-lighthouses-philippines/

I then dreamed of an old forgotten lighthouse. I was inside writing stories about life, love, sadness, and the revolution. My younger self was bright and dreamy save for the swollen eyes either brought about by incessant crying or not sleeping for days. I could not recall.

I heard heavy footsteps going into my direction. The lady was running towards me, her tattered clothes and unkempt hair would never go unnoticed. “You have to continue writing. That is our greatest weapon,” she said.

She gave me a notebook. “Promise me you will never cease writing,” her voice mumbled as she was catching her breath.

“I promise.”

***

At the piercing hiss of a cat, I suddenly gasped for air. I woke up.

Now, I remember.