The Pages of My Heart

James slouched against the wall grasping his side to possibly slow the flow of the blood. And if you haven’t tried to be in the verge of death, then you’ll never know what kind of pain he was in. In the matter of minutes he relived everything: every pain, every pleasure, every triumph, and every doom. But, only one seemed to matter, as his life seemed to slip away. James flinched as pulled his hunky out of his pocket and covered the wound.

—

It had been around three years since James had come to Davao City.  James walked down Ilustre St., and found a place the he thought was somehow interesting. It’s a coffee shop. James opened the door and instantly like the ambiance. But, one thing stood out amongst the crowd. The most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on, Sarah.

—

James looked around for his mobile phone. His bloody hand didn’t want to cooperate, but then he managed to dial Sarah’s number and the send button.
          “Hey, James.” Sarah answered in her usually happy voice.
          “Sarah,” James uttered out, “I’m badly hurt and I need you help.”
          “What happened?” Her happy tone changed into worry and fear.
          “I was mugged, and am here at Quirino near Camus St., bleeding”
          Jessica replied hastily. “I’ll be right there! Wait for me okay? Just hang on!”
          “Thanks.” James dropped his phone on the ground. Blundering with his cigarettes he lit one up telling to himself that one smoke wouldn’t cost him badly. His memories took him back about eight months…

—

James was smiling and partying with his friends. It was a Saturday night and was spending the same way he does. It was something usual right until shouting started. James sloped his head a bit and started to see John (Sarah’s fiancé) punching his fist against the wall, making an attraction to every one inside the store. That was the end of Sarah and John’s relationship.

—-

James’ hands were shaking too much to hold his smoke. It was becoming for him to breathe hard. James had lost a lot of blood and he knew instantly that his life will end soon. But, he wasn’t afraid. Sarah would be there soon. He just had not to give up for a few minutes. Luckily, the pain was gone; he felt numbness all over his body.
The black sedan came to a screeching halt and Sarah jumped out of the car and ran to James.           “James! There’s help on the way, you just have to hold on.” Tears were falling down her face.
          “Sarah, help wont save me anymore. But, I need to tell you this, something that I have kept more than a year.” His words were like a muss in the wind, grasping every breath that he could take. “I’ve fallen in love with you ever since the first time I saw you, and though I’ve made a lot of bad things over the years I only have one regret that seems to matter to me now. I regret never having the chance to be with you. I never got to be the chance to give the happiness that you deserve.”
Then slowly, James bent over to kiss Sarah. They had the perfect kiss, almost perfect that even fairy tales can never define. Then after that kiss, James completed his only ambition and let go, and he died on Sarah’s arms.

It had been raining since Monday. So much that it had made the day so lazy and gloomy. She phoned and said she’d be coming. It was the fifth time she came up to being with me that week. I just bother not to ask her excuses of why she would really love to come up here and meet met me at the nearby convenience store. She was standing there alone, carrying her blue umbrella. It was raining and she was trembling. She looked weak and fragile in the ragged rain, all soaked up.

I walked up to her and said, "You should have not bothered to see me anymore," and stuff like how we shouldn’t be together.
She said, "I am sorry, but I can’t help missing you."
I told her coldly, "Come on, I’ll drive you home."
She closed her umbrella. I knew she wanted to share mine
I said, "Open yours, and hurry up."

Reluctantly, She opened up hers and followed me to the car. She said she hadn’t eat anything and she asked me if we could stop somewhere to buy food for take out.

Right away I replied harshly, "No!"
Disappointed, she asked me to stop over somewhere where she could find a cab, she said she would take a cab back home.

Maybe it was the rain, all the cab were full of people with umbrellas and plastic bags eager to get home, not caring about who or what’s happening around. We waited and waited. She looked at me as if she’s going to devour me. Being together for seven years, of course I knew what her eyes meant. I understand how she felt going all the way here and be treated like rot. With her brown round eyes staring at me, I felt guilty, and wanted to ask her if she could spend a night with me.

But reality bites, I said to her blandly, "Let’s go, we’ll find a cab on the next block."

—-

We were living in the same condo, on the same floor. Back then there were six of us, and we jive along pretty well. We would always eat dinner together, watch scary movies, and sometimes go hiking or just driving around town. We were more like siblings, but I didn’t know I would end up falling in love with one of the two girls among six. Maybe it was during the last semester of college, having living together for four years, we developed something deep, something special with each other. After she graduated she went back home, and I stayed for one more semester to finish my studies. During those months I was only able to visit her on Christmas Eve, but never for long. But we still manage to keep the relationship, somehow, strong.

We were walking along the shore, holding hands, but talking not to each other. Often, she was into deep thinking that sometimes she walks like floating in the air. Wandering off the road, she almost got hit by a truck. I wanted to cuddle her tightly, but with the love I had for her and the stabbing pain in my chest, I did nothing. On our way, we passed by the big rock, where we usually sit and talk.

—-

She begged and said, "Lets go to the beach just for a little while please, I promise I’ll go home right after this."

With her voice, begging like a child, my stone heard softened, but I still put up an unwilling face and walked in the beach. I was just sitting under the cottages looking like I wanted to escape and leave her. She went to the big umbrella tree and she was looking for something. I knew she was looking for what we wrote on that tree half a year ago. If I remember it right, it said, "Mike and Tina was here, Mike had coffee and Tina was drinking cola. Hope Mike and Tina would always think of this day, always have the love for each other, forever." She was searching for something for quite a while, then she came back slowly sobbing.

She said, "Jessie, I can’t find it anymore."
I felt breaking inside, there was something like a knife, wounding my heart, the kind of pain I’ve felt when my mom left me when I was a child. But I never showed her how I feel, instead I can’t cold and said, "Are you done? Can we go now?"
I opened up my umbrella; she was still standing there, not wanting to leave yet, hoping for a chance. She said, "I know you just made up all the stories of you falling in love with another girl. I know you don’t want me around. I am not insensitive Jessie, but I know that you still love me. Can we start all over again?”

I didn’t say a word, just looked at hear and quavered my head. After that we drove and looked for a vacant cab. Neither of us said any word after.

—-

Two years ago, the doctor said I had cancer, but thanked God they found it early, so curable it still is. Thinking that I would be fine, I moved on and lived like a normal person, and even took the cancer thing out of my mind. I didn’t think about it and didn’t even have the chance to back to the doctor. Until a month ago, my chest was hurting for weeks, and the thing that scares me most awakened me, again. First I thought pain would just go away, but it became painful until to the extent that I could not bare it anymore. I went back to the doctor and took an X-ray. The picture came out and there was a big white sunspot, which proved the thing that I don’t want to believe. I was at the most shattering part of my life, and I know my life is coming to an end. I wanted not my love ones not to feel the same pain I felt, and not to discover my sickness, so I decided to end my life on my own. But I could just not do it. I could not let people hate me, especially Tina, the girl I only love and will love till the day I die, who had no idea, of what I am having right now. So I made up some stories and lied to her. I know it was rude to do, and it really broke her heart, but it was the easiest way to let her forget the things we shared for more than three years. I wouldn’t be staying long, because I know, I would soon start to loose hair and she would find out eventually. But now I’m close to winning, this hurting would soon be over. An hour more this would come to its end, which was what I had in mind.

A cab stopped in front of us. I wailed it for her. We were just standing there, waiting, letting go of our last moments, the chance in silence.

I held my tears and said to her, "You take care of yourself. You take good care of yourself always."

She didn’t say anything, just dipped lightly, and opened up her broken umbrella and fixed herself. Out in the rain, we became like water and oil, that no matter how close they are to each other, still they can never be together. I opened the door for her and she got in, then I closed the door that would separate me from her… Forever. I left standing there, looking at her sitting inside the cab, following my gaze as the cab moved, the first woman I loved, and also the last one in my life, walking out of my life. I came inside my car and let it move, driving into the street. Finally I couldn’t hold the pain inside my heart, the tears suddenly flushed out in my eyes. I beeped rapidly chasing after the taxi, because I knew, this would be the last time I could see her, I could be with her. I wanted to tell her how much I feel for her, I wanted to tell her not to go away, to stay with me, I wanted to tell her many things, but the taxi had already overtake the truck, and I was left behind. Warm tears kept falling down my face. I was cold, not because of the rain. I was cold because of the foolishness I had been.

She left, and I haven’t heard anything from her since. No more phone calls, no more text messages. I know that she haven’t see me crying, because you can never see tears under the rain. I left without regrets. But I’m not Jessie; I’m that girl Tina, remembering all the things we have been, and this diary he left…

…He left without telling me how much he loves me.

Jane’s face disappeared into the gray lazy light of the living room. She fell asleep on the armchair that Ryan had bought for her on their thirty-fifth anniversary. The room was warm and serene. Outside, it was raining lightly.

At a quarter past three the mailman turned the corner onto Topaz Street. He was behind schedule, not because of the rain, but because it was Christmas Day and there was more delivery post than usual. He passed Jane’s house without glancing. Ten minutes later he embarked back into his van and drove off.

Jane rose when she heard the mail van pull away, then took off her reading glasses and wiped her lips and eyes with the handkerchief. She stood up using the arm of the chair for balanced, straightened slowly and polished the lap of her red pajamas.

Her flops made a soft, shambling sound on the floor as she walked to the kitchen. She stopped at the sink to the two dishes she had left after lunch. Then she filled her cup halfway with water and took her pills. It was three forty-five.

There was a rocking chair in the living room by the front door. Jane helped herself into it. In a matter of minutes, kids would be passing by on their way home from school. Jane waited, rocking and gazing the droplets of rain.

Lads came first, as always; running and shouting out stuffs Jane could barely hear. Today they bring plastic bags filled with water, throwing them at one another. One bag missed and banged hard into Jane’s screen door. She yanked backward, and the chair slipped off the edge of her round rag rug.

The gals dawdled after the boys, in threes and twos. Jane wonder if they were telling each other about the coming evening, on what kind of gifts they’ll be getting from their parents and love ones. One pretty girl with long black hair halted and pointed to her face behind the curtains, suddenly ill at ease. When she glanced out again, the boys and girls were nowhere to be seen. It was cold by the door, but she stayed there watching the rain covered the children’s shoe prints

A florist’s truck turned onto Topaz Street. Jane followed it with her eyes. It was moving slowly. Thrice it stopped and drove again. Then the driver parked up in front of Mrs. Larson’s house next door. Who would be sending Mrs. Larson flowers? Jane asked herself. Her son in Manila? Or her sister? No, her son was very busy. It was probably her sister. How nice of her.

Flowers made Jane think of Jorge and, for a jiffy, she let the painful memory occupy her. Tomorrow will be the twenty fifth. Six months since his death.

The delivery guy was knocking at Mrs. Larson’s front door. He carried a long gold and red box. No one seemed to be answering. Of course! It was Sunday - Mrs. Larson went to church. The delivery guy looked around, and then moved toward Jane’s house.

Jane pushed herself out of the chair and went to the kitchen to have some water. The man knocked. She hurriedly went back to the door. Her hands trembled as she mussed her hair. She reached her screen door on the fifth knock.

"Yes?" she said, staring at the face of the young delivery guy. "Good afternoon, ma’am," the man said stridently. "Would you take a delivery for your neighbor, Mrs. Larson?"

"Yes," Jane answered happily, sprang the door wide open. "Where would you like me to place these flowers?" the man asked politely as he came inside the house.

"In the kitchen, please. On the countertop if you may." The guy was kind of big for Jane. She could hardly see his face between his red cap and beard. Jane was glad he left quickly, and she closed the door after him.

The box was as long as the countertop. Jane came near to it and bent over to read the notes: "BLOOMS AND BOOMS Flowers for Every Occasion." The rich scent of roses overwhelmed her senses. Lightly she closed her eyes and took slow, deep breathes, imagining white roses. Jorge had always chosen white. "To the diamond of my eyes," he would say, giving a magnificent bouquet. He would chuckle sweetly, kiss her on the nose, then take her hands in his and sing to her "My CHERIE AMOUR."

It was six o’clock when Mrs. Larson knocked at Jane’s front door. Jane was still at the kitchen countertop. The box was now open, and she held the roses on her hands, rocking like a baby and slowly caressing the soft, lovely white petals. Mrs. Larson knocked again, but Jane didn’t hear her, and after few minutes, the neighbor left.

Jane rose a little while later, laying the flowers on the countertop. Her cheeks glowed. She hauled a chair across the kitchen floor and lifted a black porcelain vase from the right corner cabinet. Using a coffee mug, she half-filled the vase with water, then neatly arranged the roses and greens, and carried them into the living room.

She was smiling as she reached the living room. She turned slightly and began to dance in slow circles. She stepped slowly, gracefully, around the living room, into the kitchen, down the middle and back again. She danced till she felt weak, and then she slumped into the sofa and slept.

At a quarter past six, Jane awoke with a twitch. Someone was knocking on the door. It was Mrs. Larson.

"Hello, Jane," Mrs. Larson said. "How are you? I knocked at around five and was a bit worried when you didn’t answer. Were you sleeping?" She chattered as she left her sandals on the welcome mat and shoved inside. "I just hate rain, don’t you? The radio says we might have this till tomorrow, but you can never really trust them, you know. Do you remember last years rain when they predicted that it will just end soon, and we had it for two days? Two days! And they said we’d have a nice Christmas week this year. Ha! I don’t think it’ll be over this week. Do you know my electric bill was Php500 last month? For my little house!"

Jane was only half-listening. She had remembered the roses suddenly and was turning blushed with shame. The empty flower box was behind her on the kitchen countertop. What would she say to Mrs. Larson?

"I don’t know if I can still afford to pay the bills. If only Ken, God bless him, had been as smart with money as your Jorge. Jorge! Oh, geez! I almost forgot about the roses."
Jane’s cheeks turned hot. She began to falter an apology, moved aside to reveal the empty box.

"Oh, good," Mrs. Larson interrupted. "You put the white roses in water. Then you saw the card. I hope it didn’t astound your to see Jorge’s handwriting. Jorge had asked me to give you the roses the first year, remember the time when you were mad at him? He didn’t want to surprise you. His ‘Flower Trustee’, I think he called it. He arranged it with the florist last May. Such a sweet man, your Jorge…"

But Jane wasn’t listening. Her heart was racing like horses as she picked up the small red enveloped she had missed earlier. It had been inside the flower box all the time. With shaking hands and nervous heart, she removed and read the card.

"To the diamond of my eyes," it said. "I love you with all my soul. Try to be happy and I’m sorry for all the things I’ve caused you pain. Love, Jorge."

For the past few weeks, I contained myself inside a music box. Alone and weary. People and friends never noticed the burden inside me, for i smiled, and kept myself smiling on or off stage. I was so damn depressed. But never did I dare to express it nor shared it to anyone, cause i feared that this depression would led me to insanity and that my melody would no longer be pleasing.

For those weeks, I envied my friends who have someone to share their music with. Who seemed to be contended on what hey have and braved enough to accept what is in store for them in the future. I looked at them with teary heart and asked myself often; When can I find someone who would risk not his life for me, but to risk even a spare amount of his precious time. Someone who give not his soul, but to give an equally divided love. I felt so empty every time I asked my self these question… and felt so lifeless… like an abandoned jukebox.
It’s too ironic for me to give life in every event that I participated. I brought smiles on faces awaited to be acknowledged and longed to hear me sing their favorite songs, while there I was, on my empty shell, savoring all the bitter-sweet words that came out from my mouth as each melody sliced and knocked me slowly. Wish they knew how painful it was for me seeing them happy. Because in every appreciation and applause they threw, wounds had cut me deep inside. And whenever I took a bow, I tried myself not to shed any tears, for you will never see clowns crying or puppets whining on stage, or a music box, playing out of tune whenever someone wanted to hear it played. And every time I retired, I slowly contained myself inside this lonely box of darkness and prepared myself for another day of masquerade.

Though I masted myself from hiding the emotions I had inside, some were quietly gifted. Heard you speak even though you uttered not words. Saw your tears even if it was your heart crying. I never thought a not-so-stranger have noticed the agony inside me. He came to me, let’s just say like a thief in the night, and offered me his ears. We talked blindly. I shared my predicaments to him and slowly he enlightened me with his “cheesy-common-usual” words of advices. He said “Everyone deserved to be happy. Everyone deserved to be loved. And I knew back then that I wasn’t really sharing my problems, I was whining. But he listened carefully like a real friend comforting me. The conversation grew fruitfully. It wasn’t really his words that have made me caught myself from behind. It was on how he sacrificed himself talking to me on the wee hours of the morning. But sad to say, we had to say goodbye. And on that day, I never knew that there was something growing inside me. That there was a melody playing inside my heart.

And it happened again…We talked and talked and shared more stories and advices. And then Goodbyes.

And then again…

And again…

And again. Until I found myself being found by someone who was searching also for the same tune I seek to hear. He lifted me up. Until both of us were with love. He made me change the views of life. He showed me back the way through happiness. I was off guarded. I never realized that he slowly took the pain inside me and the smile I had were no longer fake. It was too late for me to know that it was already my heart and soul who were smiling. That my music box were no longer dark. That it was already filled with light and scent of amber roses. I never thought that love can be found in the most unexpected events of your life, and that the person who will love you was just a few steps behind, singing the same song of your heart. I am so thankful the he passed the road to nowhere and found me sitting on a pavement, and brought me to a place called Heaven. That is why I need to thank him so much for hearing me, for understanding me and accepting me, and for making me a part of your life. And most of all, for sharing the same music that I thought i could only heart in my dreams.

Now I can sing songs of love with glitters on my eyes. For there he is, holding me close, and taking care of this fragile music box of mine.

I LOVE YOU BABY.