All Night Long, I Remember You
Page 1
All Night Long, I Remember You
By Rona Go
Copyright 2011 Rona Go
Image: photostock / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
I thought I would get used to the bumpy roads leading to the City of Taragona eventually. I left the place eleven years ago and nothing seemed to change. The place was still the same, proudly showing off its rich fields. I guess it was meant to be that way. I, myself, wouldn’t want to see changes in that place. I guess I have this feeling of selfishness, making Taragona a place untouched. A place unlike the materialistic world I came from. I wouldn’t want to see it exploited by large malls, crowded restaurants and busy streets.
Even the townhouse my family owned stood the same, the way I left it. The balcony, which used to be my perch, overlooking the small lake, looked sturdy. I could clearly imagine myself eleven years ago walking back and forth talking to myself.
So, why did I come back to this old place— a place full of memories, the good and the bad alike? Probably to hurt myself more, to deepen the wound bestowed upon me by my own fate. But, then again, perhaps, it was the time and the place for healing—for silencing the long disturbed spirits.
I might have left the world behind but I knew deep down, I brought along the old me with my hibernation. It was through this that out of the cocoon I built for myself, rose a new me.
I thought I’ve created a stronger Ricah but I was wrong. Instead, the new Ricah was even weaker. I’ve tried to bury all the memories but ironically I brought with me the replica of the person I wanted to forget.
I didn’t know, neither did Juffy. But it wouldn’t have made any difference if we both knew. Fredrick’s the living memory of what used to be a beautiful friendship. Of a friendship beyond compare. I’m just glad I fought against my initial decision about Frederick. I might have saved him from the pangs of pain in life but I might have hindered him to enjoy the beauty it brings.
"Wow, that’s probably he biggest star I’ve ever seen in my entire life, Mommy!" My eleven-year-old son said, jumping up and down which brought me back to reality.
"It’s my favorite star, Derick!" I said smiling at him.
"Do you ever make a wish upon it?" he asked.
"Yes!" I said softly. "Starlight, star bright, may I make a wish tonight!"
"Starlight, star bright—" he nudged me softly, "what’s next, Mommy?"
"May I make a wish tonight?" I said. He grew silent for a moment staring at the star intently, his almond-shaped eyes getting large.
"Is wishing upon a star true?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, "all my wishes came true."
"All?" he looked at me suspiciously, apparently seeing through my lie.
"All," I told him flatly.
"What was that?" he pointed out urgently. For a split second, the object fell off eastward and suddenly was gone.
"That was a falling star!" I said.
"A falling star?" he asked curiously.
"A wishing star!" I said and went on telling him a tale about a falling star. A tale I’ve kept within me, believing every word of it. Somehow, I believed that the mother in the tale who died became the biggest star in the sky.
"Did the princess ever get her wish?’ Derick asked.
"Yes," I told him, "she was desperate. She wanted her wish badly. If you want your wish badly, you’d be determined to have it. You’d work for it."
"Is that Daddy?" he asked pointing at the biggest star in the sky.
"Yes!" I said softly.
"Would Daddy ever hear my wishes?" he asked innocently.
"Yes, he will listen to you," I said.
I’ve kept the child for almost eleven years away from the truth that may hurt him. I’ve kept him in the world full of lies. How can I ever explain to him that the only wish I’ve ever made never came true? That it was his father who believed that dreams do come true if you want them badly? That I’ve been using his father’s words for fear that I may cause him pain if I were to use my own words? For me, everything was a shade of black and gray and gray and black and that was it. It was how I looked at life. If I were to paint it, it would have been really dull. What can my son learn from me when I, myself, couldn't seem to understand the simplest of things?
I reached out and gathered him close to me. He has yet many things to learn but I doubt it if I was the one who can give them to him. I wasn’t ready to be a mother when he came because I never became a child. I must have jumped ahead, out to maturity.
As I looked at him, sitting contentedly on my lap, looking at the star-filled sky, I couldn't help but remember his father—the blood of his blood, the flesh of his flesh.
I was twenty and Juffy was twenty-four when our paths met. He came from a poor family of farmers, tilling not heir lands. It showed in his tanned face which complimented his deep-set, charcoal black eyes that life hadn’t been very good to him. He was the newest Philosophy Professor in our school. The young, idealistic "Mr. Howe" as he was popularly known.
It was amazing how we became fast friends. How we could have put up with each other through different tantrums and moods. When in fact, we occupied two edges of the world. When we both sat at two opposite corners in the cafeteria. Yet, somehow it was our differences which provided one world instead of two.
As my mentor for the thesis I was completing, he was there for me. To teach me everything I wanted to know. Even more…I learned big things, difficult words, amazing works of our model philosophers. And I learned small things too, even the stupidest of things, even the unrealistic ones. I discovered the importance of those little things. And to think, those were the things which never bothered me before—the things which I considered non-existent.
"Starlight, star bright. May I make a wish tonight." I could clearly remember how he mumbled those words softly during one of his visits to my house. "I wish…"
"What did you wish for?" I asked.
"I wish to see the turtles dancing," he said.
"You know turtles don’t dance!" I said and laughed out loud.
"They can’t dance because you think they can’t," he said seriously. "If my wish would come true, you’d see, they would dance!"
"Do you believe in wishing upon a star?" I asked.
"Yes," he pointed at the biggest star, "that’s my star. I look at it, how powerful it looks, then, I pretend I’m as powerful as that star."
"You know you are but a minute speck compared to it," I said.
"I can be as big as anything if I want to," he said.
"Life would be even bigger then, Juffy!"
"Have you ever heard of the princess who wished upon a star?" he asked. I shook my head and he went on, "The queen died giving birth to Princess Maria. From then on, the queen turned the biggest star into something which would serve as their communication together. Every time the princess wants something, she’d just wish upon the star and gets her wish. But the star would fall off from its place because the mother knows a part of the Princess’ life goes with the star."
"The story sounds negative. It’s good to want things at times."
"It spurs passivity and resignation," he said and became somber. Then, he brightened up immediately, "Did you see that?"
"A falling star!" we both said at the same time.
"I made a wish just in time," he said proudly.
"What did you wish for?"
"A salad burger," he looked at me with twinkling eyes.
"One salad burger coming up," I laughed.
"Wouldn’t it be nice if wishing upon a star were as easy as that?" he said seriously. He became silent, absorbed in his own world. He could change moods all of a sudden.
"Then, Aladdin need not find a genie or a lamp," I said.
"Is that how life works?" I asked.
"Oh, yes, Madam! Tears and laughter in one package. It seemed so easy yet people remain confused," he said.
"I think I am one of those," I said.
"I am not exempted either," he said.
"Why are you bitter?" I asked.
"I am not," he said defensively.
"Yes, you are!" I said.
"Probably because I live and die alone, no once can help me, " he said.
"Wasn’t that line Blaise Pascal’s famous line?" I asked.
"Yeah, and I guess I’m greatly influenced by it," he said. "He had a point. It all seemed logical. One lives alone, he must. But it is inevitable that his life is influenced by other mortals. And it all seemed a great riddle for us to solve."
I didn’t know how it exactly happened but one morning I just woke up feeling something different towards Juffy. It was something I had never experienced before. It was both a happy and fearful feeling. From then on, he wasn’t merely my mentor. He was someone more important. He was the man I loved. I was proud of myself. I’ve experienced how it was to be truly in love—to give and never expect a thing. Unconsciously, Juffy taught me all these things.
It didn’t even bother me that he dismissed me only as someone he can relate with, someone he can shoot a few baskets with, someone he valued for friendship and nothing more. But I was content to be just there for him—to share every angle of his life.
We nurtured our friendship in our own special ways. But we made it sure that we weren’t losing our own individuality. And it was better that way.
I had lived up to the role he assigned for me. I was his friend. Seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. I could have made myself available for him more than what nature could allow. But it was all vanity—a love which allowed not a loved one from loving.
But luck was on my side. Fate played a game on us. I guess it was also through Venus, the goddess of love, which made what seemed a vision became real.
We were sitting together in my house, as usual, looking at the biggest star which we already claimed as ours, when I received the most important gift anybody could receive. It was even more special because there was no particular occasion to celebrate for.
"I have a surprise for you," Juffy said mysteriously. "But traditionally anybody who’s given a surprise must close her eyes, right?"
"Do you have to conform with the so-called tradition?" I teased.
"We must or should I just keep you on guessing forever?" he threatened.
"You win!" I said reluctantly closing my eyes.
"I always do," he chuckled softly. "I won’t be a mentor for nothing." After a long pause, he commanded me to open my eyes.
I saw a small velvety box in his hand. He handed it to me and I opened it carefully. Inside was a scrap of paper neatly folded. I read the message which stated:
What were you looking in here for?
Ma’am, I admit your general rule,
That every poet is a fool,
But you, yourself, may serve to show it,
That every fool is not a poet.
-T.S. Coleridge –
"Rats, you made a jackass out of me!" I said. "It’s not April Fool’s Day."
He took my hand in his calloused one and slipped a ring on my third finger."This is the real surprise!" he said.
"Now, you’re kidding me again."
"It’s for you!" he said seriously.
I looked at the ring and realized it wasn’t an ordinary ring, instead, a diamond ring shaped like a heart. It was so beautiful that for a moment I thought it should have been worn by a queen. Not by somebody as ordinary as me. It shone like the biggest star in the sky as if it ruled the night. Somehow, it did.
"It's on a payment plan, you have to pay for the rest," he jested. He reached out and gathered me closer to him. He stroked my hair softly with his fingers. As soft as a summer breeze, his lips touched mine.
I had been kissed before but his was beyond compare. Although, his has less experience for there was uncertainty as he probed his tongue through my own. I could sense the coldness in his soul. The guarded expression... Nevertheless, I knew for sure the unmistakable depth of his feelings towards me.
"Psalm 63:6!" Juffy whispered softly into my ear. He bent down again and kissed me.
I was sitting looking at the sky long after he had gone home. As if finding answers to what had occurred. The diamond ring had witnessed all of it. Yet, everything had to be confirmed.
I guess I was too preoccupied by it all that I forgot to read Psalm 63:6. I never had any time afterwards to see what he really meant. But it wouldn’t have changed anything.
"The stars in Taragona are much clearer and closer," Juffy told me that particular night.
"It’s practically the same sky," I said.
"Yes, but it’s different out there. The sky seemed a lot closer. You can almost touch it. Someday, I’d bring you there," he simply told me.
"I know what it’s like out there. I’ve lived half my entire life in Taragona," I said.
"Really?" he asked amazed. "By the looks of you, you must be one of those wealthy, pampered, spoiled brats there."
"Pampered, yes! Spoiled no," I said. "My parents own the Glorietta’s."
Juffy stiffened next to me. His smile had vanished. The only thing I saw was hatred in his eyes, blazing like fire—the hatred that could have killed me that very moment.
Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle found their right places. How could I forget the name Howe? Of course, it sounded so familiar. But I wasn’t fast enough to put the pieces together.
Mixed emotions overtook my whole being. But it was pain which reigned through it all. The pain which dug deep into my soul, stabbing my heart of flesh into pieces and tearing me into bits. I tried to stifle the sobs which started choking me.
Angrily, Juffy turned his back on me and walked away. I knew for sure he wasn’t walking away from my life permanently. But I was afraid— afraid that he might come back, yes, but to say goodbye forever.
If only we were leading a different life. Or better yet— I was born through a different father and Juffy though a different mother. Maybe, then, would I believe that a person or two can indeed live happily ever after. But we were left no choices. We were made to live a life which we never wanted.
Unexpectedly, nature, who initiated what we both have marred, itself brought us to the side of the world where many were bound to be hurt. Nature brought us to a horizon where only a few had gone. Those who survived vowed never to return again.
Before the dawn could even crackle, halfway through a dream, I was awakened by a soft knock on my door.
Outside stood Juffy. There were dark rings around his eyes registering sleepless nights. His pallid face showed it all. He was in pain.
"I didn’t know," he said his charcoal back eyes even blacker. "Even if I knew it wouldn’t have been stopped, would it?"
I knew all along what he wanted to say. I wanted to say the same things. I led him to a nearby couch. I put my arms around him.
He allowed himself, his grief to flow towards me. I could feel his body trembling. He wasn’t cold, merely frightened. Unknown to him, every tear he shed I doubled it. I was much more in pain than he was because I loved him.
"I wasn’t in control of the situation," he said in between sobs.
"Neither was I," I reassured him, "we weren’t to be blamed. We were young then."
"We could have stopped them."
"Their emotions were stronger," I said. Much to my embarrassment tears paved its way down to my cheeks. We both clung to each other as if our lives depended on it. Somehow, it did.
Juffy found my lips and started kissing me, his tongue desperate and pleasing. He worked on the fastenings of my robe and searched his way as we fell to a tangle of trembling limbs, moving as if
following intimate and intricate patterns.
And for a moment, we found a vent to all our grief. And for a moment, our souls were exalted into the realms of the gods and goddesses which I never thought existed. And our mortal bodies were made into one, the way it was meant to be—man and woman in one flesh. Our human state for a moment put on hold.
Enraptured with every moment, I tried to grasp everything I could remember—how it was like to be in Juffy's arms. I captured the beauty and solace in his arms before it could slip through my fingers and vanish into thin air. I tried to memorize the feeling of something beyond friendship. Of how it was to feel free. There were no inhibitions. Just total exuberance.
After everything which transpired, I thought our spirits were forever free. I never realized that such happiness was short-lived. That we would still be faced by reality which we were neither ready to accept nor to forget.
Juffy was already dressed when I woke up. I realized he had covered my naked body with a blanket.
"I'm sorry!" he mumbled rubbing his thigh.
"You have done nothing wrong. We both wanted it," I said.
"I don't think it is the right time. Nor the right place," he said looking at me with those eyes which seemed to be searching my soul, begging to let him in. He stood up and enveloped me in a big bear hug. Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably.
"I'll wait," I said.
"It could take time before this wound can heal," he said. "Every time I look at you and see your eyes, coffee-colored and all, I remember your father who took away my mother from us. That because of too much depression, my father died leaving seven hungry mouths to feed. I took care of them all tilling lands for your family. Your family made a servant out of me. A slave for that matter. But I can't do anything," he swallowed hard.
"It was my family, not me. I was too young to know everything. I was oblivious to it all. I didn't know," I said.
"But I loved you first before I even knew who you were," he said.
"I love you, too," I said.
"I don't think I could continue to love you," he said as he stood up and left the room. As the last echoes of his footsteps died down, I knew for sure it was the end of what used to be a beautiful relationship.
Seven years later, I found myself in a room which looked more of a cell. Only the light coming from a small window illuminated the room. A single bed stood in the middle. It was an ordinary room. What made it extraordinary was the lone figure chained at the foot of the bed.
As I approached the bed, the figure looked up. Emptiness registered all over his face. There was no trace of recognition in his eyes. I was merely a stranger in his sight. His bulging eyes with dark rings around it showed nothingness. Despite his bearded, pallid and thin face, there was still an outline of familiarity of the features of the man I loved.
I tried to reach out to him as deeply as possible. Yet, he remained cold and unmoving in the abyss he had built for himself.
I touched his thin hand hoping to break through the shield he had created around him. Yet his eyes continued to register nothing. He had lost himself totally in the world of the unreal. Insanity had claimed him. His past had tormented his mind. And the crimson scenarios of his being had put him in chains on his bed.
I fought back the tears which were slowly forming in my eyes. And all of a sudden, I had the urge to find the biggest star I could.
I forced myself to leave the room. The few feet towards the door seemed like miles away. The moment seemed to have gone forever. But before I could leave the room, Juffy managed to mutter something.
"As I lie in bed, I remember you. All night long, I think of you," he kept on repeating those words, talking to nobody in particular.
"Psalm 63:6," the nurse said.
I turned to leave as tears started running down my cheeks. The short strides became running steps. It went faster and faster. But I was running towards a direction I didn't know. All I wanted was to shut out everything — from the smell of the medicine to Juffy.
As I lie in bed, I remember you. All night long, I think of you…
The words mattered more to me because I knew these were the words which Juffy wanted to convey to me from the very beginning. And I believed the words were meant for me and me alone.
Two days later, I was informed Juffy voluntarily jumped into the arms of death. He was heard to have quoted the famous philosopher, Albert Camus, saying, "What is called a reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying."
I guess Juffy like all others who committed suicide probably thought that they had had enough of life, that they could have their freedom through death. There was no more questioning why? It felt like it was better he died.
My son, Frederick, sleeping soundlessly on my lap — the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me was the fruit of a love which served as a conqueror of death on my part. It was because of him that I chose to live instead than to follow Juffy to his grave and solitude.
The diamond ring was still on my finger because I knew it was the symbol of an eternal love shared by two mortals who were united into one creating a progeny of beauty.
I dug into my purse for the piece of paper yellowed by time. It arrived through the mail a few days after Juffy's funeral seven years ago. Inside it was a poem scribbled clearly in Juffy's penmanship:
Solitude
The moon
was reached
the mountains
climbed
the sea
crossed.
In the end
Produced a progeny
Of shallowness
Nothingness
Conquered my being
My soul remained
Cold and unmoving
Instead, pain gnawed,
I'm going back,
Back to my
Solitude…
I folded the piece of paper and kept it in my purse. I suddenly remembered how Juffy used to tell me that someday if his wish would come true, turtles would dance.
I smiled to myself and saw that indeed turtles were dancing with glee. They performed their dances none of the human eyes have seen. I saw them, but I continued to dream, for me and my son.
If you like this short story, you might be interested in NOT QUITE GODLY—a full length light romantic novel with a twist of the paranormal.
NOT QUITE GODLY
“I hail from hell. But I long for heaven. I feel something for him. But this can’t be love — for I don’t have the idea of God.
Would you rather hurt than feel nothing?
She would…”
Read one of the romantic scenes from NOT QUITE GODLY: