I saw him again today. After eight long years.
Along quezon avenue. Red light. I was reaching for my cellphone in my bag. And there he was. His car stopped right beside mine. His window was open, and he looked out to light a cigarette. And I instantly knew. My heart seemed to stop beating, my hands went cold and time froze. I knew. It was him.
The last time I saw him was March, 2000. Our graduation day. I got my diploma, and there he was by the foot of the stage. He shook my hand. After the ceremony, he was there. Another congratulatory remark, a quick hug, and he was gone.
Now, all of the sudden, out of the blue, he appeared. And there it was again – after eight long years – the effect he had on me. I was in-love with him once. Now I am no longer in-love with him. But for some reason, he will always have this effect on me.
Our cars moved together through the long stretch of Edsa. I was able to get another long glance at him. Oh god…it really is him. I don’t know if he saw me. I was hoping he did. Praying, begging God, even. I wanted him to look at me and recognize me and see that I was no longer the ugly fat girl back in college. I wanted him to nod hello, the way he did back then. I want to believe he saw me, but pretended not to – exactly the way his cool, big-man-on-campus self would have done eight years ago.
Then we went our separate ways – I turned right to Ortigas, he went straight ahead. And then he was gone. Again.