“Wer r u?” read the text message from Amy. I am supposed to meet my best friend tonight at 7pm at a restro in Mandaue.
However, I stayed glued to my seat and continued checking the cash disbursements book. I had to finish this one because my senior is going to review my work tomorrow. I kept saying “Just fifteen minutes more and my field work will be done”. Four times I repeated the phrase. Next week will be the tax payment deadline for this client using the fiscal year. I need to rush things. I even planned to continue working in the office after meeting Amy.
I could not refuse her. But I must admit that there are times I tried to avoid her. But everytime I do that, my conscience squeezed my stomach. I owed her nothing and she was not indebted to me too. But she is very persistent. It must be it - persistence. This time was no exception.
She said she had this problem and she wanted to talk to me. The last time it was about her parents. We talked on the phone, met in some café and she just cried on my shoulders. A colleague, who saw us from another corner in the café, thought she was my girlfriend and that we had some LQ moments. No, we’re not an item, not even before. Some thought it weird, but for me, she’s just my friend, and nothing else.
She said it’s about her love life. She has this boyfriend for the first time. She told me of her crushes and suitors before but this one escaped me. She claimed he is a very good man and a good husband material. She’s 23, and none of her sisters and female cousins got married beyond 25. Strange! She might have felt the pressure, albeit done by her alone.
I haven’t met the guy though. I was too busy with my audit work that I was not able to attend barkada outings for the past three months. They said he worked in a large bank, got a car, and smells good on a Hugo Boss. My axe cologne is probably no match for it. And she probably thought that I was too busy, that's why she failed to introduce him to me. Honestly, I don't care about him.
After packing my things, I rushed to the MEPZ 2 gate, which is about a hundred meter away. Taxis were scarce in this part. It took me 15 minutes to be on board one. I sent a text message saying I was already on my way and blamed it on the difficulty in finding a taxi. It was already 830pm.
Every time I arrive late at our appointed time, I always blame the traffic. She won’t usually ask questions and seems pleased that I arrived. Better late than never! This time was no different. I got stuck at traffic at the Mactan Bridge. The driver turned on his radio to some AM stations. News. He was listening to evening updates.
“A woman in his mid 20’s jumped over the bridge” says the reporter on radio.
Suicide. Who on her right mind would do it? “Why can’t she just take 10 sleeping pills?” I murmured. “It’s less painful.”
“Or drink muriatic acid” the driver butted in.
”Another crazy man” I thought, referring to the driver. I continued to listen to the news. The woman was battling for life and rescuers rushed her body to VSMMC (Vicente Sotto Memorial Medical Center). But she was declared dead on arrival. The traffic began to ease but we’re still moving slowly.
My mind couldn’t stop thinking about the woman. Who is she? What could be her reason for committing such deed? Could it be love? I had a classmate before who hanged himself with his belt. He had this beautifully written goodbye poem on the floor. His parents had no idea what his problem were. The poem talked about his beautiful life on earth. Ironic, isn’t it?
I almost forgot about Amy. I tried to call her cellphone but it was out of reach. Impossible! She’s a woman who can’t live without her phone. I sent a message again saying that I’ll be arriving in 5 minutes. It’s quarter past nine. I hoped she would understand. With my line of work, she should understand.
I finally arrived. It was a dimly lit café with only ten wooden tables. We really liked the ambience here. From the outside window I could not see the table where we’d usually meet. She must have left. I was two-and-a-half hours late, but am still unapologetic about it. I surveyed the room and there were only two other occupied tables.
“Did some lady come in here and sit on that table?” I asked the waiter and at the same time pointing at our usual table.
“Ah, sir! She was here an hour or two ago. She left this letter and told us to give it to you.”
I immediately took it. It obviously was hurriedly and nervously written. My phone rang, signaling that a text message had arrived. But I was too excited to read the letter first.
“Dear Larry,
You’re late again. As usual, I waited for you for an hour or more. But there was no sign of you nor your shadow. My phone died so I can’t call or send you any message. I really have this terrible problem that I felt like jumping over the Mactan Bridge. By the time you read this, my lifeless body might be floating in the Mactan Channel. I even wished I’d be swallowed by sharks…”
I stopped reading and my heart was beating faster. I tucked the letter in my pocket and immediately ran outside to hail a cab. That dead woman could be Amy. Why? Did her boyfriend cheat on her? Is he married, or is he gay? A lot of things floated in my mind, as I commanded the driver to go straight to VSMMC.
Amy, the sweet girl that I often took for granted, and now my heart says that I miss her. She the only girl that I can call a "close friend". In fact, she's whom I consider my best friend. The smiles, the round eyes, and the nicely kept short hair, were pictured in my mind right now.
I somewhat regretted that I arrived late. I could have stopped her. Tears began flowing from my eyes. But I held my tears. “Should I call her parents and our other friends?” that is my other dilemma. But I reserved those after I’ll see the body and confirm it myself.
The emergency room was filled with people so I asked around about the woman who jumped over the bridge a couple of hours earlier. I was led to the morgue and there I saw her. She looked sad and lonely. I continued to survey her. I felt like a heavy object was unloaded from my shoulders. It was not Amy.
I slowly walked outside and thought about the good and bad times Amy and I shared. I felt terrible for not immediately coming to her. What if I actually did lose her that night because of my being late? I took out the letter from my pocket and continued reading.
“…But I love life. Call me later. I will be recharging my phone battery.”
I could not help but grin at myself. I should have completely read the whole thing earlier. Then I remembered about the text message. I read it and the message came from Amy. I dialed her number and we talked. It was a relief to hear her voice again. She asked me why my voice was rough and I seemed like trembling. I completely ran out of reasons and instead, proposed that we should meet later that nnight. But I never mentioned to her that I was at the provincial hospital gazing at some dead body who I initially thought was her.
