- Books, Literature, and Writing»
- Commercial & Creative Writing
Marches n' Mays pt. 3
“Ok… I’ll go back to school now and tell it to my professors. I promise I’ll pay… wait a minute… where do you reside?” I asked.
“At Sta. Mesa but we’re currently moving on to Cubao.” He replied.
“Sta. Mesa? I was studying there before. I was somehow familiar around there.” I was trying to be friendly because he would do me a favor. Typically, I was not physiologically-driven type of person, who only had eyes on what was self- beneficial...but that time, the contest was a great deal. See? It transformed me.
...have you been there?
“Where do you study now?”
“In one university along Taft Avenue. Have you been there?”
He nodded. “What’s your course?”
With a big smile I said, “Psychology.”
He smiled back “Err...I’m a little allergic to Psychology students.”
“Oops, wrong move” I whispered to my self. “But I was an HRM student before, back there in Sta. Mesa.” I smiled again.
He was weirdly surprised. He took a deep breath, “Ok, so if ever you’ll have your prize, is the Tropical Hut at the corner still open? Just treat me the next time you see me.” For me, I thought that was just...amazing. I mean, I did it.... my puss-in-boot's eye technique worked.
Yet, as we talked, I realized that he’s a cutie. He was a little taller than me. He was neat and simple. His brotherly attitude and his peaceful eyes spoke of something magical. And yeah right, if I was someone like Taylor Swift, I could have written a song out of this.
“Yes, it’s still open!” I affirmed although I didn’t know if it really was.
“Ok! Ok! I’ll do it.” He was perhaps thinking that he had no choice... but yes, I'm giving him that feeling.
I gave him the CD of my track and a down payment of a hundred peso. He took my number and I did too. His name was Jeric. He said he would drop it to my school. A safe ground as I perceived. He’s not a fraud.
It was his aura that reached the doorways of my heart. Though its lights were fading...it’s in his eyes. I couldn’t be wrong. I rode the bus back to school. The clouds tinted with sunset rays were passing while the wheels were carrying me and the other passengers onward, then I heard my left brain murmuring.
“You were senseless… you just met him there and you blabbed that loud!? How could you talk inanely to that person?”
It was correct. I knew I just cried those things out not only because I really wanted him to do the minus one. It was because I needed to unload what was bothering me. I needed someone to lean on and to help me cope up with the situation. I was a D.I.D. just like how Hercules described Meg — a Damsel In Distress. Part of me trusted him fully but part of me doubted. It’s unquestionable.
As I returned to school, feeling doubly blessed, the kids showed up one by one. James… and then Patrick… and then the other James.
“Hello Ate Marriane! How’s the contest?” If only I knew that they would be here. I shouldn’t have sacrificed my poise over the studio. I told them about Jeric and all, but they didn’t like the idea of having someone to play their piece.
Now I knew, I had to cancel out the deal I made with Jeric. Although I felt his sincerity, I understood that the kids would whole-heartedly want to play it again. I could see it in their eyes. I also want them to play it. Jeric must be good, but the kids had the pure passion. Jeric only had a hundred peso and a small pity but it was our win. I thought deep. How could I tell it to him? After all the drama I made?
While thinking of a fool-proof excuse, I took the stairs to Dr. Carpio’s office. I told him my problems and he was more than willing to help. He said that he would support me if it would be with Jeric or with the kids. He funded us again— a thousand peso bill, crisp and freshly picked.