Our conversation started as a simple chit-chat. But then, she started to frown and I realized that she was restraining herself from the incoming emotional train wreck to come. In the end, she decided to spill the guts, and here I am, still listening to her every word and all the emotions attached with every syllable pronounced.
She has a lot of dreams to catch. Some are simple and some are her long-forgotten desires. She wants to learn new languages. She wants to try yoga. However, she has insecurities and they are similar to mine. It is just that I do not speak of them. That is a line I have not wanted to cross.
This conversation slowly shifts to something deeper. She told me she wanted to do all these things now that she finally had the financial support. We are now walking down her memory lane and I understand how many struggles she had been through better. This is not the first time she is telling me this, but hey, there is no harm in listening.
She did not come from a rich family. In her last year in college, she was so broke that she had no idea how to pay for her tuition. It was not that her family did not support her. It was just that she had so many siblings to feed and she –who is currently breaking down in tears– was never a priority, she said.
Luckily, she had him; a man who was willing to use his own savings for her tuition. She was so determined to pay him back, so she hurried up and landed her first job.
She finally had her first salary but do you know what he said when she handed him the brown envelope? "Give it to your parents. Oh, and by the way, how many times do I have to tell you it was not a loan?"
She is forever thankful and his sincerity overshadows his dirty laundry. Not that he had many, to begin with. A question pops in my mind. Is moral debt a part of love? This, I will never understand.
She said that one of the first things he asked after their marriage was, "Is there any food you want to try?" because now that they are settled and married, he would buy all the foods in the world for her if he could. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what I call romance.
Love is when you have to split five bucks for two –what is now only worth a bottle of water– and what concerns you is whether your significant other has anything to eat.
Also, polar opposites attract. He is a people person. Her? Not so much. Her only true friends are her sister –and perhaps him. She would rather meet new people than meet an old friend. Nostalgia hurts, she said.
"Holy shit, Lisa, are you me?" is the only thing I can say. She laughs because it is true. I internally cry because I wish I could tell my story too, but I guess some stories are better left untold.
Forever.
P.S. I have a lot of unfinished drafts, neglected and almost forgotten in my notebook. Most of the time I would just re-read every page and over-optimistically reassure myself that there will come the day where I can finish them. Most of the time I would hesitate but today, I realized that it would be a waste and decided to share those fragments. I guess there will be more drabbles to come, so stay around to read them all and share your thoughts.
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