The Long Weekend (Part II)
The styrofoam cup felt warm on my hand, but the coffee was still scalding hot. I stirred it some more, careful not to spill its contents on my lap.
It is 7am in the morning, and I am sitting at the pre-departure area at Daniel Z. Romualdez Airport in Tacloban. I had called my best friend the previous night, and the conversation went like this:
“Tatat! I’ll be in Manila tomorrow!”
“Bitch! Why didn’t you inform me sooner so I could have arranged a schedule swap. I have work tomorrow.”
“That’s ok, no need to pick me up. I know my way around town, thank you. So where’s your new apartment?”
“Can you just meet me at the MRT Station at around 10am?”
It was a sunny morning, and Cancabato Bay was visible through the glass windows of the airport. Seemingly hypnotized by the glistening waves, my mind drifted to the events that happened the past two years- my leaving the company, returning to the province to study, and of course, Eric.
Two years of self-exile hadn’t erased a single bit of memory of him. Yeah, I still see him if I close my eyes: neat, sharply dressed in long sleeves and slacks, and that sexy grin he has when he’s telling a joke.
I last saw him during the trip to Sagada. I took a sip of my coffee, and set down my glass. I wonder where he is now? Does he still work for Info? I had yet to catch up on the goings-on of my previous office.
The speaker sounded. “PR 175 bound for Manila, now boarding.”
I shook out of my reverie, collected my bags, and made my way to the gate.
A blast of warm air hit my face as I left the Centennial Airport. Damn! I remembered Manila was like this- warm, crowded, and utterly polluted. As if on queue, a bus drove by, spewing a cloud of soot from its exhaust pipe. I gritted my teeth and kept walking.
“Taxi!” I waved frantically with my left hand.
The driver shakes his head. My bag was getting heavy, I was eager to just pay extra just so I could get to my destination without the hassle.
“Or you could just drop me off at the Pasay MRT Station.” I said, getting desperate by the second. He agreed.
The air conditioning hardly calmed my impatience as the car made it’s way through the traffic. I was relieved when I finally saw the huge Pasay MRT Station.
“One ticket for Shaw Station please.” I handed the amount to the cashier.
It was strangely comforting to be at the crowded station waiting for the train. How many days have I gone to catch the early morning train after my shift? I notice a couple of yuppies joking and talking amongst themselves near a bench. I almost forgot how cute the guys were in Manila. I ruffled my hair self-consciously.
Ding! The train’s sliding doors open and out came the passengers. The crowd parted and lo and behold! A tall guy emerges, and he is no other than the guy who broke my heart.
“Hey Eric.” I said.