Something Mushy..A Love Story

Few years back a friend asked me to write a short story as their requirement in English Lit. I didnt know what to write so I wrote a love story. Someone might say it actually happened.

I tried editing it but soon gave up. My apologies if this offends you in any way. That was not my intention. Besides, anyone who can write something as corny as this deserves a little poetic license.

This story is sooo mushy Im ashamed i wrote this.

This is fiction. Not all of it is true.



Box of Memories


Maila settled in her seat as the bus lurched forward in the early morning darkness. She pulled her woolen jacket as the cold morning air blew against her face. Soon, the lines of walled houses and business centers of the city was replaced by the long highway of the countryside.

The vast ricefields and mountains in the distance brought fond memories of time spent in the school bus that brought them to countless field trips and academic competitions back in high school.

It was more than a decade and a half ago that they met on a student writer’s convention, yet that one December night remained fresh in her memories as if it happened just the week before.

It was the pageant night, that usual beauty and talent competition that was a regular part of regional and national academic competitions, when they stumbled upon each other. Maila was a short, chubby girl barely past five feet tall, with short hair and dark skin. She had no pretensions of being pretty at all, and didn’t feel comfortable in contests of aesthetic beauty. Kashmir was, on the other hand, the usual Mr. Lonely in the class, who preferred the quiet and being alone from the noise and the crowd.

As luck would have it, which they later would call “the hand of Fate,” they were the only ones who returned to their quarters early, and both didn’t have keys to their respective rooms so that the two young souls were left alone outside in the cold December breeze. They talked for hours that seemed mere minutes and the two developed a mutual liking for each other.

Mir found the jolly petite girl amusing, and she had the plainness that made him feel comfortable in her company. Maila in turn admired his quiet and serious demeanor that convinced her of his depth of character. He can talk about everything under the sun, and she felt flattered that such a nice intelligent young man should lavish attention on her. They were inseparable after that, and for the rest of the week-long convention did everything together.

*****

“Can you feel the love tonight?” he asked her. That was the title of the song playing as they slowdanced to the themesong of the animated movie The Lion King. It was the last night of the student writer's conference. There were few participants left on the dancefloor.

She didn’t answer, but would later write him that her reply, through the lyrics of the song called Love Is All Around Me. It, “I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes…”

It was the sweetest night of her young life. He was a sweet gentleman as they danced the night away. “ I wish the song would never end, “he said, pausing for a moment to let the words sink in before continuing, ”so that I can dance with you forever.” And he gently planted a kiss on her cheek. It sounded like a line in some tearjearker movie, but Maila thought it was the sweetest thing that anyone ever said to her. She leaned her face on his shoulder and closed her eyes.She wished the world would stop turning for a while so that this moment would last a little longer.

***

The familiar smell of burned ricehull woke up. Glancing outside, she felt her heart beat faster as the familiar sight of tall steel electrical towers and long concrete fence of the university announced that she is finally nearing home. She gathered her bags and waited for the bus to reach the terminal with anticipation.

Maila chose to walk the short distance from the university’s main gate to the old house, as the path was shaded by mango trees, and it felt good to be walking the same path that she used to take everyday when going to school when she was younger.
As she passed the old amphitheater a certain sadness welled in her heart. So much memorable moments have been spent on that place. It was here that they shared their first kiss and first embrace. They spent many afternoons talking and laughing on its stone steps. It was also here that she broke his heart when she said goodbye.

“UP will change you,” he remembered him saying. Of course she didn’t believe him. She loved him very much. He was her first love, and she was his. But he seemed convinced she will change and forget about him. With tears in his eyes, he begged her to stay, to continue her studies in Ateneo de Davao as they previously agreed so that they can be together. She cried, too, for it broke her heart to see him like that. She wrapped her arms around him as they said their tearful goodbyes.

During the first three months they wrote letters to each other almost every other day. It helped her cope up with homesickness, but soon her letters came less frequently. Until finally she wrote him a break up letter shortly before his 17th birthday.

Among her reasons was that she’s busy with her studies and that she didn’t believe in long distance relationships anymore, none of which he found to acceptable.
But then she said the real reason is their difference in religion. Since he was a born Moslem, and she was belong to a family that was devoutly Catholic, they can’t be together in the end.

He was dumbfounded. He hoped it was something something wrong with him that he can change. God knows he was willing t o change. But being born a Moslem was not something he chose by his own will. It was God who decided that. So there was nothing he can do.

He didn’t give up even then. He continued writing her letters, or calling her at the dormitory every weekend, but she didn’t answer his letters or his calls. She even told the receptionist to tell him she’s not around every time he called.

***

Her heart filled with dread as she approached the house. She had been anticipating this moment but now that it’s close at hand, she felt unsure of herself. How would he react? Would he welcome her with gladness or reproach? She had reason to entertain these negative thoughts. She knew she hurt him, and she’s not sure if those emotional wound she left him have healed, or are they as deep when she first left?

Has he moved on? Or still embittered with his broken heart? Strangely, she found herself hoping for the latter. If he’s still hurting it means he still loves her, and what better balm to soothe his heart than the news that she’s come back and here to stay?
***

The old house on Sunset Drive looked the same, the gate still green. The short mango tree was heavy with fruit, some of them ripe, but Maila noticed that the old swing under it was gone. In its place was a little garden with white gumamela and other flowers (help! I don’t know how to describe a garden.) A small dog barked somewhere behind the house.

"Are you looking for Daddy?," a small girl of around four asked her from the verandah. She had very fair skin and curly hair. Not waiting for an answer, she ran back towards the house shouting for her daddy.

A moment later, a man with short cropped hair and sunburned skin appeared, the little girl tugging at his hand.” There’s a lady outside looking for you," Maila heard the girl say.

Her father looked at the gate and stared for a full minute, his face a mixed _expression of surprise and partial disbelief. It was Mir, and although years added lines to his face, he looked the same. He still has that quiet look on his face. And when he smiled, his dimples and crinkles around his eyes made him look like the same boy that Maila met for the first time.

“Hi there! It’s me!” somehow she managed to greet him with a smile and a steady voice, but it sounded like somebody else’s. And as Mir ushered her in, she felt like cold water washed over her. Here we go, she thought to herself.

He teaches creative writing at one of the colleges in the university, as well as being a part time columnist at the local weekly newspaper. She expected that much, she knew early on that he had enormous talent as a writer.

What totally caught her off guard was that he was married. The little girl she saw was in fact his daughter. Her wife was at work, he told her. She works at the bank and won’t be home until the late afternoon. Somehow that was a comforting thought. Maila didn’t know if she was ready, or even willing to meet her.

But from the looks of the house she can tell that Mir chose a good wife. The house, although not lacking in adornment, had an air of homeliness in it. The curtains and decoration were well chosen, and served to enliven the house with light and color. Everywhere were signs that therein live a discerning woman and a meticulous wife.

Maila can see from the family portrait on the wall that Rachel is an attractive woman, with a beautiful face, fair skin, and soft curly hair. No doubt she must be a loving wife, and a good mom. She clearly deserves Mir. The two of them is perfect for each other, Maila thought.

Now she felt a little embarrased with herself. How can she even entertain the thought of bringing back their love to life? Mir is clearly happy with his life. Whereas she is still searching for her place in the world. She can’t help feeling sorry for herself.

"You're lucky, do you know that?" in spite of herself, she couldn’t hide a tinge of envy in her voice.

"Yes, I know. Would you believe she never had a boyfriend before we met?” Mir’s sounded like a young boy telling an exciting adventure to a childhood friend. “A guy is lucky to have someone who has never been in love before, because when she loves you, you know she loves you completely and without reservations. While a girl who have loved and felt t he pain of a broken heart, will never love the same way again,” he finished with a smile.

“A woman like her is hard to find...and I"m grateful to God for giving her to me…” his voice trailed off, and he was quiet for a while, as if musing to himself. Mila saw the sincerity in his eyes. She knew he was speaking from the heart.

“Five years ago, when you used to write me emails, how come you never mentioned her?” she could no longer restrain herself. She needed to know.

“Oh, we were just friends then. And she knew about you. And to tell you the truth, I was still in love with you then. I never courted any girl after we broke up. Sounds foolish, huh?” he said.

Not so foolish, she thought to herself. I was the fool not to know. Are you still in love with me now? She wanted to ask him, but of course didn’t.

“I never thought I’d fall in love with her,” he continued, “but after you and Nash…after you…” Mir couldn’t seem to find the right words.

Maila knew exactly what he wanted to say. When he found her on the internet by accident, she was chatting with Nasser, then her long distance boyfriend of 3 years. Mir just happened to be seated next to him in the internet café.

They exchanged emails, and for some months often chatted and tried to fill in the many years that they have lost communication. It was obvious then that he still had feelings for her, but was prudent not to bring up the subject. She in turn was so much engrossed with her romance to notice.

And when she got the chance to return to the country, after almost ten years abroad, she stayed in for one month without telling him or visiting him. For whatever reason her boyfriend didn’t allow her to do so.

She was apologetic afterward, but he was never the same. He stopped answering her emails and they soon lost contact again.

“ I always thought he was just a fling for you, that you needed someone to chat from back home. Knowing that you never even met in person made me think that way, I guess. Ironically, that he is a Moslem just like me gave me hope that somehow religion was no longer an issue between us…” Mir smiled while saying this. Like he was embarrassed for saying something corny and afraid she would laugh.

“But when you said you wanted to give yourself a chance at love again, and that he was the main reason you went back…well, I knew you were serious with him and just gave up waiting for you. Ten years is enough waiting, don’t you think?” Mir spoke matter of factly. There was no hint of bitterness in his voice. Just wanting to make himself understood.

Maila was, in fact, serious with Nas, but it was he was just playing with her. Soon after she went back to Canada their relationship ended. The guy had another girlfriend in the Philippines. She felt naive for hoping it would all work out.

“I guess religion never was the issue, right? That wasn’t the reason why you broke up with me. You just didn’t love me anymore,” his question felt like a sharp stab in the chest but she didn’t answer or try to explain anything. There was no need for that now. How can she tell him that she was so wrong? That she regretted everything she did to hurt him? That she’d give anything to have his love again? That doesn’t matter now.

“Well, after that I decided that I have to live my own life, too. I actually felt free to love again. And then there was Rachel. She was always there for me” he was quiet after saying that."I just knew that she loves me, and I loved her, too."

"Don't you think it's unfair when somebody loves you and you don’t love her in return?" he asked with a smile, the seriousness of the previous moment gone from his voice.

His question startled her, she couldn't think of an answer so she just nodded in agreement.“Unfair?” she asked herself."To whom? To the one who loves with all his heart and is broken hearted, or to the one who is too blind to see and regrets it for the rest of her life?"


***

Maila rode behind Mir on his motorcycle on the way to the bus terminal. With her hands on his shoulders, she felt like hugging him. She leaned forward and rested her face behind his neck, and closed her eyes.

"I wish This song will never end, " she remembered he once said, “so that I can dance with you forever." but that was a long time ago.

***

On board the plane that would take her back to Manila, Maila kept on her lap the old shoe box that Mir gave her. Inside were dozens of letters that she sent him since they first met, all of it, as well as some cards and poems. He had hoped it would bring her some sort of happiness, perhaps a few smiles or laughs as she reminisced the past.

She’d read them someday when she had the time, or when the sense of loss that overwhelmed her had passed away. She knew before going home that she may have nothing to return to. But somehow she kept herself believing that there was still hope, that she could go back and things would be the same.

Now she had to accept that things change, and people often do, too. Time, indeed, changes everything. And that there’s no use trying to live in the past. Some things cannot be discarded for a long time and expect to find it where you left them. Unlike old love letters that can be kept in a dusty shoe box, people move on and learn to love again.