I watched everyone with a smile on my face. The happy couple with their adorable children – the little girl with the world as her playground, running around with all the relentless energy of her youth. She’s a carbon copy of her beautiful mum; the little boy, a 3-month old baby in the arms of his dad, quietly observing with his eyes wide open as if saying… “Hullo world, I’m new here but I’m growing up real fast and soon I will be able to explore you with bigger hands and feet.” He’s starting to remind me of his dad. They have the same mischievous look on their faces.
I looked around the table at my friends. 2 couples were talking animatedly about wedding plans...one was an eager bride and another was an excited expecting mommy. How fast time flies. It used be sweet sixteens and debutante parties. Now it’s weddings and christenings and kid's birthday parties. I smiled again, remembering how different it was back in high school. 8 yrs ago, it was all about movies and malls, theme parks and slumber parties...but look at us now, we've come a long way….we’re all grown up.
I found myself wishing he was there beside me. It was a good day. A good day to share with someone I knew would understand why I was smiling, why I was happy ...for I was witnessing milestones in my friends' lives: a child's baptism, an engagement, a wedding, a new baby...the warm feeling of happiness for friends who were experiencing the most important moments in their lives. And babies! He'd understand how I adore fat lil babies with the folds on their arms and legs and we'd make silly baby jokes in a language only the two us would understand and....stop. I hated myself for letting that thought creep in. I rubbed my temple; trying 2 rub away the thought of him. I took a deep breath reached for a cigarette and walked away for a smoke.
As I smoked, I tried to make conversation with the people around me. Jobs, cars, career plans, the usual topics - safe topics. But the thought managed to creep in still. Like an unwanted ingrown sinking deep into your flesh...I shuddered at the thought, took a deep puff, shook my head and shut my eyes.
Hush hush...I told the little voice in my head. You’ve come a long way to go back to that ugly place. You’ve left that ugly place remember? You shut the door and threw away the key. Don’t you dare try to pick the lock now...
Then someone asked me one of the burning questions any person with a uterus gets asked at these events "When do you plan to have a baby?" I opened my eyes, gave a wry smile and tried to think of an answer void of any semblance of sarcasm...how typical. As "when are you getting married?" is to weddings, "when do you plan to have a baby?" is to baptisms (and "what pic do you want on your coffin?" is to funerals).
"Hmmm...."I bit on my lower lip and pretended to think but I was actually wishing it would bleed on the spot and I would be saved from answering his question. "Not in the immediate future. We're talking about a person here; it’s not just a thing you plan to do, like a vacation. It’s another life form you have full responsibility for. You have to be ready for him and the whole package that comes along with him. I guess I’ll be ready for a baby when I stop being so self-centered... so looks like never." We laughed. "And besides, I will be needing a husband or a boyfriend first to do that right? Unless I get impregnated by some maligno." He laughed. I knocked on wood out of habit.
Sigh. Pressure, pushing down on me, pushing down on me.... dum dum dum da da dum dum.
"Always the ninang, never the mom" I wrote that in one of my emails to him. Stop right there. In my head, I pushed a heavy chest of drawers against the door to the bad place to prevent any other thoughts from creeping out. Long way Maya...don’t waste it. Don’t be foolish. Not that easy but if we just work together, that door to the bad place will remain close, I told my head. I silently screamed at my heart, Shut up! You’re not helping me at all so go hibernate until you have nothing but good emotions flowing from your 4 bloody chambers. Knock on wood, again. Kidding, God, just kidding.
I went up and chatted with friends, met new people, joked around. I made plans to postpone the lonely drive home where I will have nothing but my traitor thoughts to keep me company. We left the place, went to Greenhills, shopped a little and had update-us-on-your-life conversations over coffee. The door remained close. Hallelujiah.
It was a good day except for that brief moment of insanity. But as I drove home with Nelly singing in my background, I realized this brother was right..."it’s still the longest yard..." (If I could fly away, I wouldn't come back no more. I'd turn around just to see you for the last time. See now I know, hey that won't be easy. I fought through every battle, I'd made it this far. I got a few more feet, but it's still the longest yard). I’ve come a long way but I still have a long way to go. It wasn't just about shutting the door to the bad place; it was about realizing that the bad place no longer exists. But in my head, it's still there. I was running away from it, when in fact I needed to burn it down. I was running away from it but with no clear direction where I wanted to go. I guess I hoped the road would lead me to where I was supposed to end up, like fate, like the movies... Wasn’t that what was supposed to happen? And I thought I met my destiny but I guess I rushed into things too quickly and too furiously ...I ended up pushing him away. And the others away...all those people I hurt. Oh yes, I'd get karma for sure. This is probably the longest yard, the longest yard to solitude.
Maybe it will take me time to see the goal post. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to see there. A rocking chair and dentures and an unworn wedding gown? An unused crib? Oh and a collection of flasks? Haha J In my hopeless romantic dream it will be bad-place free, with someone who loves me to death. Quite the bad boy but really a gentleman with Orlando Bloom's good looks, Adam Sandler's wit, Donald Trump's money, Bill Gates’ intelligence and Masaharu Morimoto’s culinary skills. Just one flaw: I'm not allowed to kiss him because once I do, he'd turn into Marilyn Manson and will be stuck like that forever. Oh and I cannot divorce him. That’s the catch. Haha. Me and my foolish what-if games.
But until then I will keep running. Not away but forward. I have moved on. I've come a long way. And I will continue to move on until the bad place is a tiny dot on the horizon. That’s what’s left to do. Run across the longest yard of my life to whoever and whatever it leads me to. Yes. And I know I can do it. I have wonderful friends ahead of me who will coach me along the way and show me that the milestones in their lives will be my milestones too, someday. But until then, I will run at my own pace, enjoy what I enjoy most and not let anyone hold me back.
To yards and milestones, to losses and gains, to old and new friends, to past loves and future loves, to dried tears and fresh ones, to more smiles n laughter, to growing up n moving on, to tiny baby steps and to leaps n bounds. I will see you all down this uncertain path called the future. I usually don’t like uncertainty but I don’t believe in divination either.
To not knowing, and to hoping, to new memories to be made.
I parked my car and sat in the dark, thinking. The problem with me is I analyze too much. I think too much. I dream too much. I wish I were a guy so that the only thing on my mind would be sex, beer and sports (kidding). I’m going ballistic from all the thinking. Ballistic enough to actually write down my thoughts in my blog for the world to see. Who's gonna want to marry me now? I write about ingrowns and pics on coffins, flying phlegm balls and love spells, I call myself damaged goods and admit I’m a drama queen? Who’s gonna want to marry a girl who talks to her brain and her heart like they’re real people? Perhaps no one. Or perhaps, by some miracle, someone exactly like her.
Tu rêves!
Where is he, where is he? Where is this beautiful guy? Who is he? Who is he? Who's gonna take me so high? That’s it Maya, too much pop songs, too much coffee, too much TV. You’re being such a Daria... and a Charlotte and a Susan. Maybe I should turn myself into an Edie. Yes yes. Desperate times call for Desperate Housewives. Sigh. I need alcohol to kill my overactive brain cells...if I have a beer belly big enough to look like there’s a baby inside, people will stop bugging me about motherhood...sounds like a plan – I’d turn into a man.
I stepped out of my car and shut the door. For a moment I stood there, admiring my sleek shiny mags. I love my car. She’s so pretty.
Oh yes, I'm a man already.
