My eyes may be tired, but my mind is restless, and my emotions are poignant and terrible. My thoughts can't take away from the conversation I have with Ziggy; he is definitely going home, and it's fine. However, he didn't agree or disagree with my suggestion of going on vacation with him, and he seems to be trying to express something vague that I can't help but feel bothered about. The way he looks at me, the way he touches my hands, and the way he hides those glances from me.
On my bed, tossing and turning myself until the wee hours and not a minute of zzz. My restless mind keeps on asking why and finding reasons, answers to all my doubts. Acknowledging my doubts made me feel certain of my need to speak to him, to find clarity. My woman instinct says something is odd, something's not right, and there is something that I need to discern.
*****
Five in the morning, I shivered over the chilly water of my shower. I hated taking a bath this early, especially when I'm sleepless. I know my body's formula: sleeplessness plus early shower equals a headache. Although it didn't bother me, my eagerness to find clarity over my doubts concealed whatever physical discomfort I felt, or might feel.
I open my closet with haste; now I'm wearing the first dress I got my hand on. And with my most casual look, I hurried down to see Ziggy, hoping for a chance to gain some answers.
*****
"Knock, knock." I take a deep breath, standing at their front door. An old-fashioned house is Ziggy's dwelling place every time that he's in the city. Ziggy's old folks owned it, and since they passed away, his aunts and a few cousins stayed here. The house is not gated; it has a porch with steps with it. It is distinguishable compared to most houses in that village.
Ziggy's Aunt emerges from the house's side. She probably went out from the back door. She smiles politely and slightly apologetically after recognizing me. Just like Ziggy to us, I'm also like family to them, and I came in and out of this house since childhood.
"Cloe dear, I'm sorry I didn't hear you. I'm in my garden. Are you looking for Ziggy?"
"Yes, Auntie, is he inside?"
"I'm sorry, dear, he left just recently. He's going to ride the first boat to the island."
I got my mouth agape, surprised by the news, and my shoulders fell in disappointment and dejection. However, I still managed to smile back, bow my head to say thanks to you, and a slight wave to say bye with respect to his aunt. She responded again with her apologetic and concerned demeanor.
Walking on a busy sidewalk, I'm busy with my phone, mirthless and in a daze. I dialed his number only to listen to a recorded virtual voice. "The subscriber cannot be reached," again and again, until I'm tired of poking my finger on my phone. This is hopeless; he left, I can't reach him physically, and now I can't reach him even with my phone?
*****
Another humid morning and emotional exhaustion. "Augh," Squeezing my eyes shut, irritated, with the torrid and glaring sun ray trying to penetrate inside my room, pointing towards my face. I cover my face with the blanket that is now smeared with the strangely foul smell of my respiration. But the situation got worse; feeling the sweat dripping all over my forehead, I kicked my blanket away from me and grunted.
Glancing at my wall clock, it was "9 am" I stretched my body to reach for my phone on the bedside table and dialed Ziggy's number. "The subscriber cannot be reached." The same answer. I've been doing this routine every day for weeks now, and I got the same answer from the tedious virtual recorded voice—It's disappointing at the same time, unmotivating.
I stand up, trying to make it downstairs while plodding like a zombie. Even the smell of breakfast Mom prepares that used to excite me every day can't alter my mood now. Mom stands up, expecting me to join her at the table; instead, I flop myself down to the nearest couch and turn on the television.
She approaches me with her weary look and sits beside me. "Good morning, baby. Would you like to join me for breakfast? I prepared your favorite breakfast."
Although I'm slightly scared that she will get angry at me and give me a litany of nagging like most moms do, which I wouldn't mind at all, I'm ready to hear it and let the message get in one ear and pass through to the other. However, she's different; instead of goading me, she's been trying to understand me.
"Have a bite, at least. It's been two weeks now that you haven't eaten enough; you're getting paler and thinner." Her homely voice is tranquilizing.
I nodded and went with her to the dining room.
The supposed-to-be appetizing breakfast is prepared on the table. There's an egg, corned beef, bacon, tocino, rice, and bread. Mom also prepared me a cup of hot coffee that's about to get cool. My mom is getting worried, looking at me, because I've been staring and not touching my food for around fifteen minutes now. She can't hold her silence anymore.
"Cloe darling, can you talk to me, please? I know you're hiding some problem from me. I noticed that ever since Ziggy left, you hardly got out of your room and barely talked to anybody else. Dina and some of your friends told me that you didn't answer their calls."
I stood up and approached my mom. I hugged her as I snivelled. She hugged me in return and rubbed my back.
"Go on, darling, just cry it out and talk to Mom."
I nodded and found myself back on the couch. I narrated to her everything, about Ziggy, about our relationship, and my feelings. I let go of all the pain, distress, and frustration that I've been hiding for weeks now.
"Darling, do you really want all your questions answered? All your doubts clarified? Why don't you ask him yourself? Follow her to Bohol, and I will permit you. That's if you want to."
My eyes brighten after hearing Mom's advice. There's a feeling of comfort and serenity that slightly eases my pains. I hugged her tighter. "Thank you, Mom."
*****
Despite the unanswered questions, I tried to relax, going on some errands preparing for my trip to Ziggy's hometown. I did a little shopping for some presents for him and his family and dropped by the coffee shop to meet Dina and settle some unfinished business regarding our organization.
"You know best; I'm so happy that you came out to light finally." That had us both in stitches. "And I'm delighted I hear you laugh, at least even just a bit."
I smiled, "You know, Din, I'm sorry if I feel so unmotivated to do another project for our organization. I know the festival is coming up, and instead of working on the preparations, here I am, lamenting inside my bedroom." I finished it with a deep sigh.
"Oh, cheer up, besh, I understand what you've been through. All of us in our Org. feel the same. We are sad that Ziggy can't join us, especially this coming festival; more than that, he is your bestiest friend."
"Yes, my bestiest friend and..."
Dina widened her eyes, hinting at something. "And? Oh no, did I sense it right? Are you two a thing now? I mean, not in friendzone level; tell me, come on, tell me that I'm right."
I nodded. "Yes, Dina, you're right."
"I know it! I'm not dumb; I can see how you look at each other. I can see you are both just hiding your feelings. I don't even understand why you have to hide it."
"Because I feared loving him and eventually losing him and might lose our friendship as well. I'm afraid that it will hurt me more, and indeed, it did." I didn't notice my tears drop when I say that.
Dina wraps her arms around me. Giving me her full support and comfort. "Don't be sad, and we are still here. I am here."
"Thank you, besh. Can I ask you a favor?"
"Anything, for you. What is it?"
"I'm planning to follow Zig to his hometown. Mom doesn't want me to go alone. Can you go with me? Please?"
"Are you serious? Of course, I will! Who can say no to travel and vacation! I love the beaches in Bohol. Well, I'm sorry, I know we are not going there just for a vacation, but still, I'm too excited!" Dina shrieked in excitement.