CHAPTER ONE

I've been in love once and I don't think I'll ever be again.

People don't believe me when I say it. They try to fashion my whole life behind me, creating their own stories on how I am able to say those words. Everyone close to me has their own story to tell. It happened sixteen years ago. Some people let go, move on, and eventually change. But I, apparently, didn't.

What happened to me isn't simple. It can't be recapped into one uncomplicated paragraph. However, it was also not as extraordinary as anyone might expect. Perhaps it was somewhere in the middle.

It was as common a love story as many people have experienced. Why? Because we've known each other since we were little children.

Losing someone very dear is a tragedy, to say the least. Whether it was for another person or another reason, or even death, it leaves behind a trail of tears, sorrows, and regrets. The song of birds and the scent of daffodils wither away in that single moment. Most of the time, after the relationship is over and the lovers have realized their own mistakes, they find themselves reminiscing about the past and wishing to go back in time to somehow do things differently. I felt those kinds of things, too.

I remember every minute detail of our moments, cherishing them over and over in my heart and mind, feeling the sweet but temporary joy they bring to me.

But as quickly as the memories come, I also immediately realize that I'm living in a make-believe world. And again, suddenly, the song of birds and the scent of daffodils wither away, stinging my chest with the most painful hurt I thought no other human being would ever feel.

Gordon Heights was a place of beauty. We grew up there. There, the air coming down the hills was sweet and the leaves were so fresh that your senses indulged with every moment that passed. The sun rose like a king in the morning and you can feel dewdrops tremble on your skin. For us, it was paradise.

I was still a small child when I first felt the feeling of love. She was with me my whole childhood. I can't remember someone so dear other than my mom. It was always quiet every time I met her in the morning. The trees met, bending over the narrow road, and the spots of the sun on the ground moved with the shifting of the branches, like a conscious caress. We always walked through that way every morning going to school. Dead leaves streamed down from its trees, though they were not green, they stood out on the asphalt road so bright it hurt the eyes.

A plump gray pigeon plunged off a window ledge and soared right before us. In the thin morning mist, small children waited, their hands stuffed with breadcrumbs, rice, and crackers. Little maya birds joined the feast. Joggers in spandex and sweats pounded past us, splashing through shallow puddles left by residents watering their plants at sunrise. But nothing really caught my attention. Except her.

I love her. I love everything about her. I love her scent. I love the way she walked. I love the way she laughs and how she carries her ponytail. I love the way her lips tremble in the cold, damp morning as she speaks. It was simple. I just loved her. But I never realized it then. What I knew was I feel good, very good, every time I'm with her. I was still a small child.

For a thirty-six-year-old like me, reminiscing has become a skill, an art. Most of the people around my age whom I know, although I'm not really sure how their personal lives are, project an aura of success, solidarity, and sureness about what they have become. I find it difficult to understand why I, of all people, still feel this failure within me. I have become one of the most successful sportswriters in the Philippines, having been all over the world with the most famous people one could ever imagine. If that is what everybody defines as success, then why do I still feel unfulfilled and incomplete?

But then, who cares about success if the heart is empty? This is a time in my life when I know exactly what I want but I can't do anything to get it. So many regrets come to me and all I can do now is wish that somehow I can do everything all over again. Eyes so tired of crying.

***

In her tiny room fifteen feet above the streets, Yssa was reading and wondering. She was reading this poignant story about two star-crossed lovers who were forcibly separated by odd circumstances. What they had seemed like a perfect love, she thought. Like many people, she believed perfect love only existed in fiction. Which is why she had been wondering how close the whole story was to reality.

Glenn took her out for lunch that afternoon. But during the whole time, her thoughts wandered toward the book she borrowed from Elisha earlier in the day. I was still a small child when I first felt the feeling of love, it stuck in her head. She did not know anyone who had been in love with another person other than family while still a small child. She was reading it while they ate and Glenn asked a few times what it was. She kept on telling him it was a book she borrowed from one of her students.

Glenn brought her back to school at about two o'clock and then left right away. He reasoned out that the band had a fan signing event in an hour.

Rain still fell outside, getting heavier and wilder as the night went deeper. The winds were getting vicious and thunder boomed and lightning crashed continuously. It was nine in the evening and Yssa had finished dinner. She also just finished her usual night shower and was now sitting on her bed with the night lamp on. As she read on, there were passages in the book wherein she would find herself holding her breath. It was definitely a story that came from the heart, she thought, and she couldn't help shedding tears whenever a sentence or two stirred up her emotions even more. She was not expecting someone so young could create or imagine such a heart-rending story, except if that someone would go through something like it.

Hours quickly passed and by midnight she had already finished the twelfth chapter of the book. She decided to discontinue reading because she knew she needed to get enough sleep for tomorrow's classes. She turned off the night lamp and snuggled inside her blanket amidst the noise of the tearing night rain and her old, trusty electric fan.

Yssa then remembered Elisha's invite to her birthday party on Sunday. It will be a chance to meet Seth again. But she already had an unspoken commitment with Glenn to go to church that day. He had planned for them to go to the mall after the worship service to maybe watch a movie or window shop. She thought it would disappoint him if she canceled their first date of the year so she was still undecided about accepting Elisha's invitation.

It lingered in her mind as she tried her best to fall asleep. She also found herself thinking about the book, particularly its author – Seth Santiago. And who, if anyone, was Kristina? Someone very close to him, obviously, but the story implied she was not around anymore. She wondered if she had left him or did something else happen that forced them apart. He had named the lead woman protagonist after her and it was to her whom he dedicated the book. Again, she wondered how close the whole thing was to real life. She realized she was deeply touched by the novel, at least by its first twelve chapters, and she never thought someone could have loved someone else that real and persistent even if the odds were all against him.

What surprised her the most was a man wrote it. A young man, to be exact. She did not know any man who was as sensitive to a woman as the novel seemed to imply. In all her years, she had never had a novel or even a short poem written and dedicated to her. Yssa always found love letters as one of the most romantic things in the world. But she had not received anything from Glenn, not even once. Glenn had never been much of a writer, nor anyone else who tried to woo her, so she wondered how it felt to be persuaded by a man like that. She then realized she did not know Seth at all, except for how he wrote and how he described the leading man's feelings in his writings. She also found herself envious and jealous of Kristina. A feeling she knew did not make sense and something she thought she had no right to feel.

Would it be possible to love two persons in a lifetime? she thought. It is easy to "love" just for the sake of loving. But to love someone else, to the point of putting his or her happiness and needs before you and anything else, that was what she was wondering about.

The last question lingered in her mind for seconds. She didn't know the answer.

Minutes passed and she dozed off steadily, thoughts of Seth slipped silently away from her mind. The night rain still fell outside, lovingly, as she finally got the sleep she had so much wanted.

***

CHAPTER TWELVE

Thirtieth of March, 2000. It was two years since Kristina died. And she never left my mind.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, mass is over and let us all go in peace. Amen." Father Nelson announced on a beautiful Sunday morning and people answered in chorus as they began to sing the final song of worship for that morning. I was too busy to care, lost somewhere within my mind's own awareness looking at my fond and not-so-memorable experiences during the past years. I heard none of the things Father Nelson imparted during his homily nor did I see the people listen half-attentively and half-impatiently. The sudden loud thump of the drum as we marched down the aisle of the church pulled me out of the virtual world of nostalgia nudging me and at the same time fastening me to my fantasies.

In reality once more, I looked at my watch and it said 8:00 am. People began to fill up the church again for the second mass, this time with Father Galvez. It's still early for the second mass, I turned, but no one would listen. Walking away from the church steps, I thought of eating. I didn't have dinner last night so that must be the reason why I feel like my blood sugar is getting lower and lower.

While having breakfast, a thought occurred to me, I haven't visited her in a while so maybe it's time to visit her again. Finishing my meal, I talked to Father Galvez and asked if I could skip the second mass. He nodded and blessed me. I left the church and went to catch a bus. Visiting Kristina meant traveling for at least four hours.

The bus was fast enough to catch up for the time it lost upon encountering the usual traffic. After the ride, I got out of the vehicle and noticed a little flower shop right around the corner. I bought a dozen peach roses thinking it was the only thing she would appreciate.

With the flowers, I went on another ride, this time in a jeepney. After that, I was to ride a tricycle to take me where she was. It had been more than four hours passed before I finally set my feet on the pavement just in front of my destination.

The sun was high at 12:30 in the midafternoon when I got there but it was not hot. The clouds were kind enough not to let the sun see me and the wind kept me cool as I continued walking toward her location. There were only a few souls inside the park, odd I thought. Normally, at this time of the year, the Ternate Memorial Park had several visitors who were visiting their families, friends, or colleagues. Some were even lovers who wanted to be alone with each other in the company of the resting ones who would not at all mind what their deaf ears would hear as they spoke sweet nothings to each other.

I didn't realize that my feet had already taken me to her grave near the river. The still and silent creek remained the only witness to my presence. I gave a heavy sigh as I placed the roses on her feet.

"Kristina... I..." I said almost at a loss for words. Slowly I took one rose from the bunch and placed it right in front of the cross bearing her name. My mind rushed with thoughts that were all accompanied by emotions. Suddenly I was in another world... a world left behind by the constant motion of time. I saw myself there and Kristina still alive. She was smiling. The smile I had been longing to see all this time. She looked so beautiful, as always. No one has ever replaced her, or at least equaled her, here in my heart.

As quickly as it came, the memories faded like colors from a dying rainbow across the sky. But they left the emotions behind, slicing my soul with perpetual wounds that cannot be healed.

My chest was heavy and finally, I had the strength to admit that which I never really wanted to admit. "Kristina... I miss you. I wish we could have spent more time together. If I only knew that you were going to leave me so soon, I wouldn't have done all those things that made us fight with one another. I regret all those moments we spent quarreling instead of holding each other's hand. I don't know why this had to happen. You were my best friend, the love of my life. My sweetheart and my soulmate. I don't know what purpose I have right now to keep on living..." I kept thinking that maybe we were just cursed. Cursed by some power within the cosmos who wants us to stay apart with all the love we have for each other.

I thought of all the things I wanted to say to her and all the things that I could never tell her. For even if I did, she wouldn't be able to hear me now. It was all fruitless, it was too late, a lifetime too late. So many ifs that should not have been ifs at all.

I started to cry. I know these were wasted tears for even if I cry an ocean of it, she wouldn't come back.

"I don't know if this is what's meant to be or if everything simply happened by chance," I spoke hardly between sobs. I gasped for air as the words I had been longing to tell her slowly came out of my mouth. "I love you, Kristina. I have always loved you and will always love you." My strength left me as I fell on the grass.

"No use telling it now, but I'll still say it a hundred times if I have to. I don't know if my heart would ever know how to love again. I think this is my destiny. I was destined to love you and only you for the rest of my life."

A cold wind touched my face and sent cold shivers through my spine. There was an almost inaudible whisper in the wind that told me I was wrong or was it just a figment of my imagination. Nevertheless, it assured me that I would be okay. That I deserve to be happy. That I must go on with my life.

"Thank you, Kristina," I said, getting up and wiping my tears away. "I have to go home now. I'm looking forward to the day we'll see and be with each other again. My heart will always be yours, don't you ever forget that. I love you, I love you..."

Taking one last look at the grave, I turned and left and as I did I could feel the wind was now warm and that she was somehow watching... telling me she will always love me, too. I looked at the sky and smiled at her. "Don't worry about me, Kristina. I'll be fine. I'll make it on my own. With a mere thought of you, I have done the best of whatever it is that I have to do. With a mere thought of you."

***

In the evening Yssabelle Gonzales dreamed about Seth Santiago and his book, Glenn Ordonio went to the cinema with one of his young female fans. Yes, Glenn. The same Glenn who had lunch with Yssa earlier this afternoon. The same Glenn who had been Yssa's boyfriend for over seven years now. It seemed going out with a female fan was becoming a normal occurrence every time Glenn and his band had media events.

She asked for his number during the fan-signing session and called him just a few hours later offering to go out together. Of course, he was only a man and could not think of any particular reason to refuse, even though he was completely aware he already had a girlfriend. The young lady also knew that but lust and fame have their way of bringing two people together in secret meetings.

It turned out the girl was only eighteen years old and was obviously looking for adventure. She seemed to be the type who bragged to her friends about her sex life and how she had slept with famous people. Apparently, Glenn was set to become one of the names in her famous-people-I've-slept-with list.

Upon meeting in a mall in San Fernando, Pampanga, about an hour's car ride from Olongapo, the young lady said she wanted to go to the cinema. She did not talk much, and only mentioned a few details about the heavy rain and possible flooded streets outside. Glenn was okay with that, as he knew he was not here to enter into a new relationship. He knew exactly what she wanted with a popular lead vocalist of a rock group. And he wanted it, too.

On the way to the cinema, some young people recognized Glenn and asked for his autograph. He readily signed a piece of paper from them as the young lady bought their tickets. However, he turned down one of the fans who asked for a photograph. Glenn let the young lady enter the cinema first before he followed. He could still hear his fans shouting as he walked in.

As soon as the lights in the theater went down, his left arm was immediately around her shoulders, which was not unusual. However, his right hand was also immediately moving above her right breast, rubbing away on her white button-down shirt. She was expecting that sort of approach halfway through the film. But to encounter it during the "coming soon" trailers seemed a little premature even for someone like her. Well, she had it coming and it was the reason why he agreed to meet in the first place so it made sense for him to take advantage as early as he could. The young lady seemed to have another thing planned as she removed his hand firmly from her breast and placed it down on his lap.

That was a bad idea, of course. Or a good idea in his case. Turning his hand around and clasping hers, he pressed it against "that" spot in between his legs. She snatched her hand away and, folding her arms rigidly over her breasts, watched the screen, seemingly playing hard to get.

Glenn played along as the two went back and forth with their breast-grabbing and crotch-touching affair, making the secret meeting more exciting and satisfying at the same time – for both sides.

After a few minutes, he asked if she would care for something to nibble. And, on receiving the answer that she would not mind a soda, went chivalrously off to the snack bar to get one. On his way back, slightly less chivalrously, he took off the plastic cover of the cup, sipped a little, and poured in about 100 ml of vodka he had in his pocket. He then put back the cover and went back inside the theater.

She thanked him for the drink and commented that it tasted a bit funny. She already had a hint of what he had done, it was not the first time she experienced it, but pretended to fall for it. He said the taste was probably caused by the water which had been used to make the ice and she played along to his excuses.

The theater went dark for the main feature and the two were apparently not in there to watch it. It was one of those American teenage films in which the vulgarity of the action was matched by the vulgarity of the dialogue with titillation provided by much peeping into locker rooms, groping in the backseat of cars, and nude showering.

Glenn was clearly aware of the film's content, and the young lady seemed to know it as well. They took the first sex scene ten minutes into the movie as a cue to continue what they had started during the trailers. His hands were all over her again, pressing, squeezing, tickling, and rubbing. At the same time, Glenn's lips were brought in as reinforcements. They moved first to nibble her ear, then, parting, they released a tongue to probe its orifice.

Her jaw was then pulled by his hand and his lips fused with hers. She returned the kisses and was enjoying what his hand did to her breasts and elsewhere. Soon enough, his hand went downward to somewhere more titillating. He started moving his fingers over her panties, fondling, as she slowly slouched backward on her seat, almost lying down, and felt every stroke. He then moved his hand inside the panties and easily found her opening already moist with anticipation. He inserted about an inch of his middle finger inside, went deeper then pulled back. Did it again and again as she quietly moaned, arching her back from her seat. He did it again and again as she whispered something about wanting more.

A few moments later, Glenn asked her to go out and check in a motel just a few blocks away from the mall. The young girl, out of breath, obliged as expected and the two scurried out of the theater with the movie only halfway finished.