I swear to FSM I’m going crazy.
I planned this day to be a productive day; there is a ton of schoolwork I need to finish doing before it starts to pile up on me, again. Book reviews, case analyses, and oral reports perennially plague my dreams. Honestly, I haven’t been able to sleep well for a long while now. I can only chance upon catnaps, which can range from five minutes up to an hour at most, spread erratically throughout the day.
Atop my bed are several books I borrowed from the library. Some of them look like they’re going to crumble into dust. The pages, already yellow and sour-smelling because of the acid build up, have come loose and are torn around the edges. It doesn’t help that I have clammy hands. I fear I might permanently damage the pages, so I put off reading, much to the detriment of my academic career.
“Hey, Kuya Klein! When will you be having lunch?” Mazy probes. She always pops right beside me out of nowhere whenever I go down from my room to get some water from the dispenser at the ground floor. “I know it’s already half past one, but I can tell you haven’t had lunch yet.”
It is so typical of Mazy to notice details worth almost nothing to me. Nevertheless, she will continue to pester me if I don’t give her a satisfactory reply. “I’m getting lunch after I finish filling this up,” I answer indulgingly. “Go get your monies. I believe I’m not the only one who hasn’t taken his lunch yet.”
“Caught me,” she sticks out her tongue at me and sprints to her room.
“Think of where we’re going to eat while you’re at it!” I shout for her to hear.
Mazy and I hail from the same high school in a relatively low profile province. We weren’t classmates, and we hardly knew each other’s existence back then: we knew we were in the same school; we knew we were members of the same clubs; we knew we competed in the same contests though she was in her own year level, and I was on my own. Basically, we were in the peripheries of the other’s life. A gap of two years does reduce the influence and impact of a person’s actions especially in high school.
“Let’s go to SM Manila. I want some lasagna,” Mazy requests.
“Why at SM Manila? We don’t need to go that far. There’s a Greenwich at Harrison Plaza,” I smile to conceal my near exasperation. She’s fully aware that I need to prepare for a presentation next week, yet she’s being indifferent.
“I don’t want lasagna from Greenwich. The lasagna of French Baker is par excellence. Besides, I’m feeling a bit adventurous today.”
“All right. Just make sure we get back before three.”
“You bet your busy sched I will!”
Mazy runs ahead and sweet-talks the dormitory guard. In no time, we were able to get passes to go outside. She wants to ride the jeepney, but I insist otherwise. I manage to hail a taxi after a squabble with her. Being two years ahead of her, I am somewhat responsible for her safety and security.
I find it unusual that we became friends and best of friends at that. Her blithe disposition and my staid stance in life are two practically opposite extremes of the personality spectrum. Though we almost always clash, it didn’t stop her from befriending me. Like the crashing of the waves against the stationary shore, she nibbles off all that seriousness and bit by boring bit, she changes the contours of my being.
Before I notice, we were already by the mall’s entrance. It’s a good thing there’s the two of us to share the fare. The heavy traffic made the fare unusually high.
Again, Mazy runs ahead of me. She seems excited. It has been a while since we were able to hang out like this. Near the classy restaurant, she suddenly stops. I approach her to ask what the matter is, but she takes my hand instead and together, we sit by the corner taking seats facing each other. I don’t understand what’s happening. Her eyes are darting everywhere except at my direction and she looks a bit nervous.
To break the tension, I raise my hand to catch the attention of a waiter. “We’ll be having lasagna and some iced tea, please.”
“It will take about 5 minutes, sir,” the waiter reminds me as he goes to wait another table.
“Uhh,” Mazy vocalizes, “Make that three plates of lasagna, please.” The waiter nods and proceeds to leave us.
“So that’s what it’s about. Hahaha,” I interject startling Mazy. “If you wanted more than a serving, you shouldn’t have been so shy about it.”
“You would have laughed. See! You are already laughing. I just crave lasagna right now and I want to spend my money on it instead of buying loaves of wheat bread for the whole week.”
“This diet of yours is getting at you. I suggest you indulge yourself more. I mean you’re already slim and sexy,” I tease her.
“Hng. Seriously, stop teasing,” she rides on. “The food is already here. Start digging on yours and I’ll start on mine so we could get back early for you to finish your very important business of courting your grades.”
