He’s gone.
I keep repeating to myself the painful truth that my best buddy will never be able to sit with me for another guy talk that last for a whole day—ever again. It upsets me that he haven’t sent me mails or made a call since last year. But, just a week ago, I had—what I never thought would be—the last chance to meet him. I saw Lawrence, at the early age of twenty-two, cold and lifeless—on his funeral.
I walk along the pavement of the town plaza like a zombie—without spirit—without emotion, while munching peanuts and having deep thoughts.
It didn’t bother me if people see me like this and think I’m crazy. Anyway, they don’t have any idea what happened to me or the pain and sadness I am into now for losing a good friend.
What I need to know now is: why did they leave this early? And for what purpose do God intend for also ending his life? I sit myself on a wooden bench, look up at the puffy clouds, and search for the stupid answers.
“Look! There’s a nice spot!”
We all looked at Jasmine’s direction. She was pointing to a huge boulder of rock at the other side of the hill. We all beamed. We finally found our “new territory”. The five of us—Esther, Jasmine, Kirk, Lawrence and I, sat on the grass beside the boulder. Then, everybody fell silent . . . they were, like me, gazing at the clouds—hypnotized by its leisurely movement.
“Whoa! An angel!” Esther exclaimed when she noticed a clump of clouds formed into a figure.
“No, it’s a phoenix, stupid,” said Kirk.
“Hey, it’s changing into a—a warrior with a sword and . . . a shield! You see, his wings transformed into them!”
“Over there guys! It’s a huge hand with one elongated finger!” Esther said again.
“Yeah . . . it’s pointed at the warrior.”
We spent the whole afternoon just watching and making up stories out of the figures of the clouds. The following day we met at the same spot, and again watched the clouds. Then, every day we did the same.
It was until one afternoon when our group of five was lessen by one. Esther didn’t come to our new territory, and the next, then the next. We became worried at the same time curious. What could have happened to her? So, we decided to visit her home and found out that she had accidentally cut her pinky with a knife while slicing onions. She was too embarrassed to see us that even after persuading her to come play with us again, she wouldn’t. However, after days of pressing her, she finally did.
As always, we watched the clouds, drew figures and made up stories. This time, we gave a solo time for each to tell his own story, with no interruptions supposed to be, but I guess we’ll never change. Ha-ha. The first was Lawrence, pointing to the sky, he began, “hmm . . . Once, there was a huuuge spaceship! And suddenly it came across a horrible alien monster!”
“Hahaha . . . That doesn’t resemble an alien monster . . .”
“Shut up Esther, it does for me ok? Anyway, here’s the story: the spaceship came from a faaaraway planet looking for a nice place to land and rest. But, on their way, a gigantic scary-looking alien monster in a form of . . . an asteroid—teehee, the cloud’s transforming, you see—and they shoot at him!—wait . . . the spaceship’s disintegrating—oh! The monster was too powerful that he crushed the spaceship in just one blow . . . then BANG! End . . .”
“Nah, poor story . . . now here’s mine. Listen,” it was Jasmine. Before she began, she smiled and winked at me. “Look at the clump of clouds just above Lawrence’ poor spaceship. Can you see a—cake? That cake is a very magical pastry, don’t you know? It never runs out . . . And it tastes sooo yummy that you can live forever with just only that! There are chocolates, candies, marshmallows, butter, cookies, jellies, and blah blah toppings and fillings. The icing’s very creamy, too . . .”
I looked at her ogling round eyes as she spoke with passion. I felt pity for her because it had always been her wish to have a beautiful cake on her birthdays, but she had quite the contrary. Even after she spoke, she looked so sad.
Then Kirk interrupted with his usual unusual stories, “Ahem . . . Ladies and gents, I welcome you to another story of the Silly Mango Vendor of Purok 2-A. It was after a hard day’s work in the market selling green mangoes. He packed all his stuff, including his cell phone and pushed his cart home. While he was walking, a fast car nearly ran his tattered cart—”
“W-w-wait . . . can you please point to us the clump of clouds your making your story about?”
“Oh . . . yeah—well . . . alright! I’ll change it! It’s about that cloud—looking like a sheep . . . so now, the sheep loved to dance—and oh—he dances Wowowee’s hits and he wanted to be a real man and to live in the city. So, one day he went to the city and shaved off his wool. Guess what happened next? He wore a poodle-hair wig! He joined Wowowee and went on meee-meee-meee all the way ‘till he died of a cold!”
Next was Esther. She made up a story of the three figures in the sky. There were two taller figures and between them was something smaller. The three were connected by thin wisps of clouds on their middle. Esther interpreted them a family. The clouds looked like they were dancing so she said that they were very happy. “But, one day, the father left his family. He said he’ll buy pizza but he never came back . . .”
“Did he die?”
“Hmm . . . maybe . . .”
“No way, he just bought some pizza; he might be taken by the pizza goblins or that sort of weird stuffs . . .”
“It’s your turn now.” They all looked at me. Mine was nothing cool or exciting, I’m really bad at story-telling and interpretations. It was just about a dog missing and finding his loving owner after losing his way in the streets.
And it was all just memories. Unmoving, I blankly stare at the clouds. Where could they be now? It had been years since we saw each other—the complete five—six years before Esther doomed herself by straying through worldly pleasures of sin. How could we, her only friends, have abandoned her at those times when we knew of her parents’ separation? Then, it was Kirk who made a scandal in college by allegedly beating a teacher out of anger. But, I believe that the teacher does deserve it. To quote Kirk’s description of that teacher, “he’s a screwed up demon hog, and he’s too bald, smelly, stingy, and foul for a professional.”
Aside from that scandal several years ago, I never heard of anything else from him until now. Once, a rumor reached me. He strangely dropped out of college and left the town. He was heard laughing and whistling noisily in the streets one evening, disturbing the sleeping neighbors, and throwing stones at the gates of some houses. He was merrily telling everybody that he’s leaving that forlorn town, that he was on his way to find a big profit business, and buy a luxurious doghouse for his pit-bull and find a six-foot tall international model for a wife.
Another rumor says he was stabbed to death in a brawl one evening in another town. He was exchanging sarcastic jokes with a hot-tempered man in a bar, which later ended into a bloody fight. If the rumors were true, that leaves me, Lawrence and Jasmine in our supposed-to-be five-man friendship.
One year ago, after Lawrence get to board on plane, I lost contact with him the next few months. And just this year, his hopes of piloting a plane died with him on a crash. And Jasmine? She went to work abroad two years ago. I’m hoping she stays safe. I’m glad she frequently emails me, that’s how I get to know her status every now and then. She promised to go home this December; I’m looking forward to it.
“You’re all red Jasmine!” they teased her.
“I’m not!”
“What did you see in the clouds? C’mon tell us!”
She glanced at me briefly, and then looked down. What’s with her? She was about to tell her story when she grimaced and blushed so red and wouldn’t continue. We all looked puzzled, that we gazed to the clouds and tried to find what made her uneasy. From east to west, west to east, south to north, and north to south I glanced. Then, something caught my sight. Something you can never see by scanning each and every clump or wisp of cloud. You had to look at the vast sky as a whole, by then, you could see the two distinctive figures distractingly entwined to each other. They looked like giants, united, falling down to earth. Then, I understood why she blushed to that image. Haha . . .
“Nice image you drawn from the clouds! Interesting,” I said to her, flashing my most mischievous grin. Her eyes widened and she ran away.
When it was my turn to speak, I hesitated for it would be another boring story, plus I am still distracted by huge image of the clouds. The others never discovered what the both of us—Jasmine and I—saw that day. I laughed to myself, we had our secret.
Watching the clouds, I still can’t find the stupid answers. There’s no peanut left.
The clouds . . . the clouds . . . what’s with the clouds? We loved to watch it . . . we always watched it. And my friends, they’re all gone now—leaving me and Jasmine. This is crazy—no—that’s stupid! That’s not the answers I’m looking for. But . . . it seems it is . . . the stupid answer that I actually don’t want to take. . . I don’t know if I should believe such weird thing, but . . . was it God who formed those clouds those days? Then, ignorant and innocent as we were, made up stories from it which unknowingly was our—reality.
They died out of child’s play. We weaved our own fate, and the clouds were too cruel to deceive our innocent minds. Today, I still mourn of a great loss—my best bud Lawrence. Our circle of five is now reduced to two. But despite the ill-fate of our friendship, my boring life, and, though I can still read the subconscious ache of her discontented childhood, I am able to share my life with the woman I have always loved—my Jasmine.
Then again, I can’t help but let myself be taken away by the mystery of the clouds. Now, I get to see a piece of the whole picture. As the clouds move, divide, combine, disintegrate . . . we move with it. And the truth is—me, Jasmine, Lawrence, Kirk and Esther—we all live in the clouds. And despite the distance in place and time, we will always be never too far apart.
Finished
3:37 am
October 14, 2009
