Life as it happens. Time as it passes.

Forevermore: The Story of RC and Cess (chapter 2: The First Meeting)

sa-starbucks“When would I see her again?”

I rhetorically asked myself that question as I was getting ready to sleep. An otherwise toxic day turned out to be a memorable one, thanks to that quick snapshot of beauty I saw in the office. My room had the dizzying scent of dry wood and moist brick wall. The bed creaked as I stretched my body’s weight across it. The gentle evening breeze sieved its way through the window, kissing the dark green curtain draped across it.

I laid there at my bed, staring at the flesh-colored ceiling, hoping to recreate the vision I captured that afternoon from the office.

Princess.

The name seemed to reverberate inside my head. And what am I supposed to make of it? Am i going crazy about it? I didn’t think so, or at least I did not want to think that i was. So, in an attempt to prove my sanity, i tried to remove the echo effect of that name, and simply dwelt on re-sketching her image in my head.

But as my eyes grew weary, and my mind slipped away into the dark cover of my eyelids, the image also slipped away into oblivion. Time went by, and not a single shadow of her face was left in my canvass of dreams. Another meaningless night came.

Morning. I wished it came earlier than 5:00. And I wished it had also come earlier for her, so that I could be right back at the office, hoping to bridge the long agony of not seeing her since yesterday afternoon. But I was there at the house–stuck for the next two more hours. I had nothing to do outside, and more frustratingly, I also had nothing to do inside. And so I tried to go back again to sleep. But the attempt all went for naught. I was simply fully awake… and fully alone.

As the clock struck seven, I was inches away from the front door’s office. A few meters earlier, I had been practicing my smile–my new found arsenal. I was rehearsing my “good morning” script in my head, as I was plotting how to go through my plan of introducing myself. But I soon found out, I would have to file away that script for another day.

It was Saturday. The office was closed…

But as if all hope was gone, I caught a silhouette of an angel walking from a distance toward the office. She was wearing a yellow printed shirt, a yellow hair band that kept her hair at bay, and a primly ironed denim skirt that covered her knees securely. Her slow stride gave me enough time to capture my second image, this time with a zoom-in effect. Again, her eyes and mine met across the four meters of distance we had between each other. I could see her whispering my name, waving her hand to me. Her face was beginning to lighten up with the killer smile. I turned my body to her direction and started walking towards her…

…but it was just another wishful thinking…

…and then she detoured towards the parking lot.

“Aaargh!” I screamed inside my head. “When do I get to finally meet her?”

_______________________________________________________________

Sunday.

I picked up the church publication from the usher’s desk, while shaking hands with a church mate. As I crossed the third row, I stopped to get a good look at the news. From there I heard my sister softly calling my attention to where she was seated.

And there she was… sitting beside Princess.

Good thing I stopped.

As I walked towards their place, I noticed she was smiling at me with an air of familiarity. As my sister formally introduced Cess to me, I reached out my hand to shake hers. Without hesitation she also held her hand out. We shook hands.

The day went on as usual. And that night, I went back home and headed for my room. I changed clothes, dimmed the lights and laid my body in the bed.

Just before i closed my eyes, I looked at my hand and stared at it for quite a moment. I then reached out for the ceiling and rehearsed the whole thing that happened that day. I imagined her again as if reaching out for my hand from the ceiling…

…and then I put my hand back across my chest and closed my eyes.

Finally, the long wait was over. In the least possible way, I was finally part of her life, and she of mine. Her image had finally registered permanently in my head.

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