Seven days ago I told the girl who taught me how to love that I'll marry her.
I saved my entire paycheck for half a year to take her on a summer vacation to this island in Visayas. As I sat beside her on the grass on top of a quiet hill watching the sun majestically set like a crimson ship sailing slowly over the horizon, I took out an ivory gold ring --which cost me my paycheck for the other half of the year-- took her hand and gently slid it around her finger. She laughed sweetly and gave me one of her warmest hugs that made me feel like I won the whole world. I starved to death for a year and almost got kicked out of my apartment, but she made everything worth it, and made this life filled with disappointment and uncertainty seem perfect.
She wanted to have lots of pictures on our wedding. She wistfully told me then. Her hands were holding my hand; her head resting on my shoulder. She said she wanted to remember every detail forever.
I got a bit worried. I told her I might ruin a lot of her pictures. Getting pictures taken makes me nervous. It's the flashes. I have this rare condition called squama chromatea syndrome. It makes me see light at a higher rate of brightness than normal people. That doesn't really bother me much. What bothers me is that it made my irises and pupils ashen gray in color, which makes my eyes most of the time far too noticeable than I would have wanted. And also bright flashes would really hurt.
She knows about this, of course. She stroked my hand reassuringly, and told me it's OK. She grinned at me and said I can close my eyes in all the pictures if I wanted to. Then she teasingly told me that it's my ashen gray eyes that made her notice me in the first place.
Without them, she never would have found me.
We first met in college. I was a sophomore and she was a freshman. It was ten years ago; the first day of the first semester of the school year. I met her when I was sitting in one of the corridors at the university.
I remember I was thinking of cross-pollination. I was wondering if red flowers can pollinate with blue flowers of the same type, and whether that's the reason how violets started. If that's the case though, what started primary-color-colored flowers, like yellow? I was a weird kid in college.
While lost in between thoughts of red, blue and yellow, I felt a tap on my shoulder. And when I looked up, that's the first time I saw her. She was in a white summer dress, and she had that sweet smile that I never really fully recovered from even now.
I sort of thought she was an angel. Honest. She really looked like one then. Not that I've actually seen angels. But I'm pretty sure that when I do, they would look pretty much like her at that moment.
She told me she was a first year, and had no idea where the College Audio Visual Room was, which was in this pretty-difficult-to-give-directions-to place. And it took me an awkward while to explain to her where it really was. That made her smile that enchanting smile of hers a lot though. And after I was done making a fool out of myself trying to give her the best directions, she was very grateful.
Then she commented on how cool my eyes were. That gave the right amount of nudge to my self-confidence that I was actually able to offer her that, if she wanted my contact number to text or call me in case she got lost or something, I'll gladly give it to her. I'll gladly give her anything for that smile actually.
But, she told me she had no cellphone. So, much to my embarrassment.
Although, being the strangely self-confident person I had suddenly become then, I quickly took the notebook I had with me, wrote my number on a page, tore that page, and gave it to her.
Just in case, I said.
She smiled another sweet smile, thanked me, and left. I caught myself stupidly waving.
It would not be until my fifth year in college that I finally received a text from her. But that's a story for another time.
Only a bit of the orange sun was left on the horizon now, and the wind was starting to get cold.
I asked her if I had ever told her that she was the very first person, aside from family of course, that told me that my eyes were “cool”. Most comments before hers were somewhere around the lines of, “weird”, “scary”, or “that's so sad, I'm very sorry for you.” Hers was actually the very first positive comment I got for my eyes from any first encounter.
She laughed.
She teased that I was also the only boy that did not ask for her number, but offered to give his number instead.
I laughed with her at that.
Right then, I'd give up anything to stay at that moment forever. I wished I can stop time then and things would stay perfect.
I told her that.
She snuggled close, and we were quiet for a while. There was only the sound of the waves gently washing away on sand nearby.
She then told me that time does not stop because we need to have sad memories to make our happy memories truly happy.
Besides, she said, if it does, we wouldn't have other happy memories, like our wedding. That would definitely be a very very happy memory to look forward to.
I couldn't agree more.
And I guess the sun did too agree because it was totally gone; it was getting really dark and cold so we had to go back to the summer house we were staying.
As we were walking slowly back to the beach, she whispered that she will be making me breakfast tomorrow. I was surprised. I stared at her and then grinned in absolute delight. It would be the first time she'll cook a meal for me. I guess the excitement showed too much on my face, because she laughed at seeing how silly I must have looked. I wonder what she'll be cooking.
I never did find out though.
The next day, six days ago, what I found out was that it was fifteen years in the past.
When I woke up, I was in my old bed at my family home. I was in my room with my brother sleeping on the other bed across mine. And I was thirteen-years-old.
What happened here? Was my life all a dream?
No, it can't be. I remember in clear detail a whole fifteen more years of life I have lived. I was to live. I lived it. My memories in that life are far clearer than the ones I'm supposed to have in this past life I'm in now.
Will I be able to go back to that life? Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find out that this is the dream. I sure hope so. For I have an unsettling feeling that this life will not be the same as the one I had, the one I love.
For the morning of that day I first woke up here, I was so shocked and confused, and was desperately trying to figure things out, that I was late for school that day. That day was my first day in my first year of high school.
You see, I remember that day clearly. I know I wasn't suppose to be late that day. On that morning, I was so excited to see the new place I was to stay for this next big stage of my life, that I came early.
The sun has just come up from the horizon and the morning air was still very cold. I supposed to have been curiously exploring my new school building that day. I supposed to have found myself on the top floor. I supposed to have stopped for a moment right there below the flag pole attached to a wall. I supposed to have been there watching how the flag danced quickly as strong winds rushed all over it.
For on that fateful moment, as I stood there watching, a lightning hit that pole. It burned the flag, blinded me for seven days. It turned my eyes to ashen gray, and made me see too much light for the rest of my life.
But now, I wasn't there at that morning seven days ago. I was still at home confused. When that lightning hit that pole, I was far away --perfectly safe. My eyes, they are now fine. Black and normal as can be. And that may be for the rest of my life.
I had always hated those ashen gray eyes when I was growing up. But as I found myself now beginning to write my life again, I can't help but be haunted.
Without them, how will I ever find her again?
- - - - - - - i
