Friday, March 4, 2016

THE LAST STRAW



"Charley, do you have a minute tonight?" By the way he sounded, I knew he wasn't just asking for a minute. "Okay, not really one minute. Can you come over for dinner over wine tonight? It's been a while." I knew it. Not a bad idea. I was anyway in the office reviewing blue prints for a client presentation on Monday. "Sure, Kuya. I'd be driving to your place ‘round 8pm, okay?" After arranging how to go about the limited parking space in his condo, we hung up.

It's just 3pm and I can barely focus on the plates after that phone call. Half of my mind was somewhere else, and the other curious half was trying to think about what tonight’s agenda would be. Though we grew up together, my brother was not exactly the sweet kind of guy who would invite me over just so we could catch up with each other's lives. More so, he never really involved me in his personal dealings, unless I know the person he's having quite some difficulty with. Could it be about our cousin who made him a human ATM but who never made a single deposit? Man, Kuya is such a nice-ass who can't say no to people. Could it be about our aunt with whom he had a heated argument about the family inheritance? If you could even consider half a hectare an 'inheritance', to be split among eight siblings. Heavens, I should’ve asked him before he hung up. I can’t believe I could be so much like his girlfriend sometimes. Wait. Could it be about Leona?

My stupid message tone instantaneously bursted my thought bubble. One text from Leona. “Hi bessie, care for some coffee after work tonight? I just thought we…”, read the message preview. Looks like my mental detective game is over. It is indeed going to be about Leona. My brother’s girlfriend is not exactly my BFF, but she fondly calls me ‘bessie’, maybe because we’re of the same age. We hang out sometimes since we have a lot in common --- she’s also an architect, loves coffee, books, painting, Philippine history, just name anything boring. That, aside from the fact that I’m her first aid when it comes to her strains with Kuya. So how does it feel to get caught up between them again? Sometimes I’m tempted to just tell them that I don’t really give a damn. Nah, of course I still do.

As I reached for my phone thinking about a nice alibi, I was wondering if it was one of those self-esteem problems Leona has been dealing with again. She's a board top-notcher, street-smart, kind, sweet, caring, thoughtful, generous, genuine, and not to mention very beautiful too. But for some strange reason, she’s kind of sensitive and jealousy, would always think of herself as unimportant like a lonely little wallflower, no matter how much you make her feel that she’s precious and loved. When I’m not in the mood for her drama, my evil side would wonder if she’s just fishing for compliments. But people who are like that would stop acting miserable when you give them their share of ego-boosters. But Leona? Nah. I just need to hear two magic words from Kuya to figure out what’s going on: I’m drained.

Message sent. I just told her I still need to stop by the organic store to get mom her favorite green pesto spread. Leona has a weakness for mothers. She lost hers to cancer when she was just 12. I know she wouldn’t insist anymore, but I felt a cringe in my guts with that little white lie that I just made. Lies. I used to be a liar. A pretentious, young career woman keeping up an intimidating face when all that’s inside me was just plain crap. I used to be so jealous, so doubting of the assurance that I receive from people who mattered, when they don’t even understand why I needed assurance to begin with. Leona met me after that state. She doesn’t know that we have a lot more in common more than coffee and history. And she doesn’t know that all it took to turn me around were the last two words of someone so dear to me but whose last straw I regrettably pulled: I’m drained.

It’s just 6pm but the February skyline spells like 8pm already. Three hours of mental torture was not healthy at all. Reaching out for my bag to get the car keys, my guts told me to pick up my phone instead. “Hi Leona,” I started typing. “Organic shop’s out of pesto. Are you still up for coffee?” #