HELLO, GOODBYE

Part 1

This is the story of a young lady I once knew. And before you go playing guessing games with each other, let me tell you now that she actually did quite a number on me. It was nothing sexual, unfortunately, but surprisingly just as blissful as if I got any – and maybe even something more. I’ll let you guys decide on that one.

You see, my friend Allan and his girlfriend Mickey rang me up several months ago and pleaded that I attend the opening of a club somewhere in Makati. It was owned by a friend of theirs and they just needed one more idiot who went for cigarettes and alcohol to make an appearance, somehow believing it would get a good word of mouth going (nothing short of pathetic, indeed, but quite effective nonetheless).

Now, let me ring a bell by declaring that I have almost totally ceased going to rave bars and all that shit for fear of being labeled as another young-wannabe. Granted that 24 years is still relatively youthful, the thought of trying to fit in with the Y or even Z generation is an absolute no-no in my book. We’ve had our good years, I say, and it’s time to let the kids have a piece of the action. The ’90s still rocked in my view.

Anyway, I agreed after a great deal of coaxing – with the condition, of course, that I didn’t have to drive any type of vehicle (be it automatic or manual) for the duration of the night. If someone like me decided to grace their pal’s bourbon and tequila-drenched festivity, then I had to have no other substantial obligations except to drown myself with drinks for as much as I wanted. They consented.

I giddily hopped into Allan’s car, which, regrettably, looked more like a dilapidated grocery cart (sorry, man, but it’s the truth) than a beat-up Toyota. And after getting used to the smell of his day-old laundry in the backseat, Allan said matter-of-factly that things were gonna get worse because they invited someone along. I stopped smiling, gave him a hard look and shook my head – suddenly figuring out why they wanted me along in this trip in the first place.

"Walang hiya ka! I’m here kasi you need me again to escort a loser friend of yours, di ba? Pare naman," I begged. "Yung huling pina-date mo saken inubos lang yung pera ko sa restaurant tapos di man lang kinain yung order niya. Ayoko na ng mga ganyan, please!"

"Don’t worry, dude," Allan said, trying to sound cheerful. "That’s not why you’re here at all. Sunduin lang natin si Rose tapos you don’t have to worry about her. She’s pretty cool. Gusto niya lang din sumama for a night out and that’s all."

"But that’s what you said the last time. Siguraduhin mo lang na you’re not buttering people up again, ha, kasi there’s no way I’ll go through that shit you put me up with before." I still wasn’t convinced, and my giddiness slowly faded.

This girl, Rose, saw our cart, er, car, pull up and waved to Allan and Mickey. Following the usual, detestable, ceremonies of beso-beso and introductions, I stared at her. Yes she was polite and attractive, and yet I’m not too keen on describing her because it’s really not important to the story. But if there’s one thing I remember about the girl, it would be her eyes. Man oh man, I may be exaggerating here but they were like unforgettable pearls, and they shined so brightly when she squinted I thought I had to run for cover. You see, folks, the eyes are usually the first thing that attracts me to a woman. They’re the sexiest element of their bodies and not (even if my buddies contest) the hilly female body part which many of you boys are probably thinking right now (it’s a close second though).

Anyway, we got to the club at about 11 p.m. (the place looked decent enough), and the expected hip-hop and R&B tunes blasted over the speakers. Allan and Mickey smooched infront of me, got up from our reserved table and hit the dance floor – leaving Rose behind. I had no choice but to speak.

"So...," I began, trying to sound just a little too casual. "Who are you?"

"Well, I’m 23-years-old, and an economics grad. I sell clothes and stuff at my small store in Greenhills during the day and spend the rest of my time living it up. Watch movies, hangout with friends at Starbucks, go to the salon, and do whatever. Basically, I’m just a happy-go-lucky type who likes to have some fun." She then asked: "Is that enough information for such a vague question?" Typical attributes for a twentysomething female, I thought, and she had more wit than I gave her credit for (shame on me).

"Too much, in fact." I was pretty shocked with her reply.

"Yeah, I know I should have dimmed it a shade or two – especially for idiots who can’t handle a few simple details in one answer." It was meant as a joke, but it was the way she said it that pissed me off.

"It takes one to know one, lass," I said, trying to retaliate. Quite clichéd, true, but already the best quip I could come up with.

"You’re an asshole."

"And you’re an arrogant bit..." It was almost gold but I suddenly paused and scratched my head. "Hey, lass! What’s the matter?" I asked. "Did we get off on the wrong foot here? Maybe we should start over because I’m in no mood for a fight." It was true because I really do hate bickering, but it was also my way of making amends without looking trounced in the battle of expletives.

"Then you shouldn’t have come," she laughed. "With your height (around 6 feet I think), one would have thought you had more character." I rolled my eyes to heaven.

"I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that," I said and continued, just so the smartass couldn’t butt in: "You know, I wanted to just stay home tonight. But now that I’ve met someone like you... I still do."

The wisecracks (if my amateur slurs could pass for such) did stop soon, but the succeeding interactions were now mostly strained. And at least on that point, we agreed on something. In between drinks and after several more minutes of forced small talk, polite nods, and complete awkwardness, I finally excused myself to the restroom. Nature really wasn’t calling for me yet, and I actually just planned to wash my hands (after accidentally touching Allan’s dirty laundry in the car) when I saw this fellow puking intensely into the basin. It was disgusting and I suddenly decided that I didn’t mind having smutty hands for a couple more hours. Besides, I already felt bad about leaving Rose unaccompanied (mean as she was) for more than several minutes. Sadly, practicing ethics wasn’t my favorite thing at the time, so I chose to smoke a cigarette outside the club first.

I only had a couple of drags of the filthy habit, however, when my conscience (yes, folks, I do have one) got to me that I still had a female guest to entertain – even if that meant my face was to be the butt of her jokes. I sighed and was just about to march inside when I spotted Rose at a dimly lit portion of the parking lot. She too was smoking, and it was only when I inched a bit closer did I realize there were tears as well. She was crying.

My first instinct was to leave and let her bawl her bright and shiny eyes out for you see, I have always felt that it’s none of my lip to ask about what’s going on with a weeping person – much less someone who I just met and already had a word war with. But when the girl looked up, she immediately recognized me, and I simply had no other choice but to acknowledge it. She appeared (and sounded) pretty embarrassed by the whole scene and quickly threw away her cigarette.

"Oh, you’re there pala. What are you doing here? I thought you went to the restroom? I just wanted to get away from the crappy music for a few minutes, you know," she said while wiping away her tears.

"Yes, I know," I uttered. "And I guess that’s why you were crying, right? Because R. Kelly was singing ‘Toot-toot’ and ‘beep-beep’?"

"Crying!? Who’s crying? Hindi noh! You’re a stupid idiot talaga! There’s just a problem with my damn contact lenses, you moron." It’s those kinds of words that really stick out, but who was she kidding? I may be numb towards many thoughts and characteristics of the opposite sex, but I sometimes still believe in what my eyes see. Nevertheless, I played along with her bit.

"Ay, of course nga naman! I’m sorry, Rose, ha. Yeah, those contacts can be a nuisance talaga pag minsan," I said, sounding a tad too sweet as her demeanor relaxed. "But don’t worry, lass. Katulad ng lahat ng hirap at problema sa buhay, all things must pass. And it’s not always gonna be this gray, di ba?"

I was puzzled at first (and again a little irritated) because of her extreme "defensiveness", but it quickly subsided. And I wasn’t really sure how or why because the situation was too opaque for a concrete answer. Maybe it was the corn and cheesiness of it all, or perhaps the notion that my faith and (almost) senseless emotions took over. But whatever it was, I saw her completely as a human being – stripped of all pretentiousness, including (thankfully) her acid tongue. And in an instant, I felt nothing but sympathy for the girl, who I knew tried her best to look strong but obviously had some problem that was a bit too serious to just laugh off.

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E-mail the author at mister_foxy@yahoo.com.