July 24, 2012

• Dazed and confused.

  It was early. Early enough for my eyes to beg at least fifteen more minutes of idle and stillness. But the cell phone kept on buzzing and vibrating. It was almost next to my right ear, by the bedside stool where I left it on recharging the night before. I reluctantly turned my head and grabbed the vibrating white and metal rectangular piece of electronic, with a small silver silhouette of an apple on it, slightly bitten on the right. I winced and tried my best to open my eye lids to read the name of the caller shown on the screen. I was stunned. It’s her. I had to close my eyes and reopened them wider to make sure it was her name I saw on the screen. Yes, it's her.

  I wasn’t sure how I should feel. I wasn’t sure how friendly I should get. Eight months. Eight months of not a single reply to my messages and emails. She wouldn’t even reply me on Facebook. Eight bloody months of me racking my brain trying to makes sense of what was going on. Is she ok? Is it me? Did I do something wrong? Did I say something I shouldn’t have? I really thought it was over between us. I really did.

  As soon I slide my finger on the screen to answer and said hello, a cheerful high pitched girly sound was saying “Rudyyyyyyy….!!”, then followed by a giggle, in a lower, deeper tone.
  “I woke you up, ya?” she asked.
  “No, no. I’m already up”. I lied.
  “Listen, can I call you back with a different number? Like, right now?”
  “Sure, sure”. I was sitting on the bed by now, still half asleep.
  “It’s an unregistered number from work. It won't show up on your phone. But please answer it, ok?”
  “Yeah, ok”.
  “Ok, wait for my call, ya”. Then she hung up.

  I quickly, but grudgingly, got myself up from the bed. My right knee was still making that crackling sound as I pushed myself up. But that was not important. At least, not now. The phone buzzed again. The screen read BLOCKED NUMBER. It must be her.

  “Hi” I answered.
  “Hi” she answered back cheerfully, then giggled again.
  “How are you?”
  “Good, good. And how are you, Rudy? And your family?”. I heard traffic noise on the background as she spoke to me.

  I wanted to ask immediately what the hell happened. Why she distant herself from me all these months. Why she never responded back. Why? But I didn’t. I wanted to let her be the first to open the conversation. Let her have a chance to explain herself. She may have a good reason. It could be something important.

  I paced myself back and forth in my bedroom as we chatted on the phone. She was on her way to work. A different company this time. It’s another international hotel chain. One of the few she had to turn down when they extended their offer to her many years back. She sounded happy. Very happy. She was down the last time we chatted, back in November last year, when I told her I was going to London to see a cousin on mine whom I had not seen in more than a decade. I still have the souvenir she asked me to get for her. It's been sitting on my book shelf in a clear plastic cover and in a carry-on bag from the shop I got it from. It's been there, waiting for her, for eight months now.

  It didn’t make sense to me when I heard nothing from her upon my return. It still doesn’t. Why wouldn’t she respond back to my messages? Has something happened? Is it me? Is it not me? Many questions unasked and unanswered. She never did give any kind of reasoning for her behavior. As if none of it ever happened. I decided to let it slide. Better not make a big deal out of this. She did finally call me back, after all. Doesn't that count for something? That we still friends?

  The rest of the day I was in a daze. Hoping and wishing that she would call back soon to suggest a meet-up and have an one-on-one chat. Sigh… I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore. I never understood women. And probably never will.

  • 7:10 am
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