Letters after Goodbye

CHAPTER 4-Things that shouldn't ask

MIKA'S POV

October 18 — 8:24 AM

May mga tanong na hindi mo itinatanong dahil alam mo na ang sagot.

At may mga tanong na hindi mo itinatanong dahil natatakot kang malaman iyon.

Hindi ko alam kung alin doon ang ginagawa ko.

3 days na mula nang dumating ang ika-36 na letter ni Derek.

3 days na rin mula nang magsimulang manggulo ang kung sino mang nasa likod ng mga anonymous messages.

At ngayong umaga, habang nakaupo ako sa harap ng laptop ko, isang bagay lang ang malinaw:

Wala akong natatapos.

Dalawang oras ko nang tinititigan ang parehong design.

Logo.

3 letters

One simple revision.

Pero wala.

Napabuntong-hininga ako at sumandal sa upuan.

Sa tabi ng laptop ko ay naroon pa rin ang lumang sketch ni Derek.

Ang bahay.

Balcony.

Puno.

Dalawang pangit na stick figure.

Someday.

Dapat ibinalik ko na iyon sa drawer kagabi.

Hindi ko ginawa.

Siguro dahil gusto kong makita.

Siguro dahil gusto kong maalala na bago ang Canada, bago ang away, bago ang--

Napahinto ako.

Bago ang ano?

“Pag-alis,” bulong ko.

Bago ang pag-alis niya.

Iyon lang.

Kinuha ko ang tasa ng kape.

Malamig na.

Perfect.

Isa na namang bagay na nakalimutan ko.

Tumunog ang phone ko.

Napatingin ako agad.

Lara

Lunch?

I stared at the message.

Then replied.

Busy.

Three dots appeared.

Dinner?

Busy pa rin.

Mika.

Lara.

Galit ka ba?

Napangiti ako nang bahagya.

Hindi.

Sinungaling.

Hindi ako sumagot.

After a few seconds:

Pupunta ako mamaya.

Napakunot ang noo ko.

Hindi ka invited.

Wala akong pake.

Classic Lara.

I placed the phone facedown.

At least siya, consistent.

11 pm, pinilit kong bumalik sa trabaho.

Hindi ko binuksan ang box ng letters.

Hindi ko tiningnan ang sketch.

Hindi ko rin chineck kung may bagong anonymous message.

Work lang.

Normal.

I needed normal.

Pero habang inaayos ko ang typography sa screen, bigla kong naalala ang sinabi ni Derek dati.

Kapag hindi mo alam kung anong font gagamitin, Helvetica.

Napairap ako kahit wala siya.

“Lazy designer.”

Architect ako.

Parang narinig ko pa ang sagot niya.

At bago ko mapigilan, ngumiti ako.

“Helvetica?”

Derek looked offended.

Nasa sahig siya ng apartment ko noon, napapalibutan ng rolled plans at papel.

“Yes.”

“That's your solution?”

“It's clean.”

“It's boring.”

“Classic.”

“Boring.”

Binato ko siya ng unan.

Nasalo niya.

“Violence.”

“Deserve.”

May ginagawa akong logo noon habang gumagawa naman siya ng presentation para sa isang project.

Magkatabi kami pero magkaiba ang mundo.

Ako, laptop.

Siya, plans.

Ako, tahimik.

Siya, hindi marunong manahimik nang higit sa limang minuto.

“Mika.”

“Hm?”

“Pag nagkaroon tayo ng bahay--”

“Again?”

“Let me finish.”

“No.”

“May sariling office tayo.”

“Magkaibang office.”

“Why?”

“Maingay ka.”

“I'm inspiring.”

“You hum when you work.”

“Cute kaya.”

“Hindi.”

He moved closer.

“Fine. Separate offices.”

“Good.”

“Pero may connecting door.”

“Derek.”

“Negotiable.”

I tried not to smile.

He saw it anyway.

“See? You love the idea.”

“I tolerate you.”

“Same thing.”

Then he reached for my notebook.

“Hoy.”

He wrote something before I could stop him.

A tiny door.

Two rooms.

Mika and Derek

I frowned.

“Bakit ako pupunta sa office mo?”

“Because you'll miss me.”

“Never.”

He grinned.

“Liar.”

Napakurap ako.

The memory faded.

I was smiling.

Then the smile slowly disappeared.

Three years.

How could a person still feel so present after three years?

I knew his laugh.

His coffee order.

The way he rolled his sleeves.

The way he tapped his pencil against the table when thinking.

I remembered all of that.

So bakit may mga bagay na hindi ko maalala?

My phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

My stomach dropped.

New number again.

For a few seconds, hindi ko binuksan.

Then I did.

What was the last thing you said to him?

I froze.

No.

Not today.

I blocked the number.

Almost immediately, another message came.

Different number.

Do you remember?

“Tumigil ka.”

My fingers moved quickly.

LEAVE ME ALONE.

Delivered.

No reply.

I threw the phone onto the sofa.

Then stood.

Walked to the kitchen.

Opened a cabinet.

Closed it.

Opened the refrigerator.

Closed it.

Ano bang hinahanap ko?

Nothing.

I just needed to move.

What was the last thing you said to him?

Easy.

We fought.

He messaged me.

Hindi ko na kaya. Sorry.

But that was what he said.

What did I say?

I tried to remember.

I must have replied.

Maybe I called.

I knew I called.

He didn't answer.

But before that?

Our argument.

What did I say?

“Bahala ka.”

Maybe.

Or--

“Then go.”

My chest tightened.

Did I say that?

I leaned against the counter.

A fragment came.

Derek standing near my door.

His jaw tight.

Kung gusto mong umalis, umalis ka.

I closed my eyes.

Was that real?

Or was I building the memory because I needed an answer?

“Enough.”

I opened my eyes.

Hindi ko kailangang tandaan ang bawat salita.

Tatlong taon na.

People forget.

Normal iyon.

Dumating si Lara nang 6:30.

May dalang pagkain.

Again.

“Hindi ka ba marunong bumisita nang walang pagkain?”

“Hindi ka marunong kumain kapag walang nagdadala.”

“Rude.”

“True.”

Pinapasok ko siya.

She placed two containers on the table.

“Pancit.”

“Thanks.”

“May lumpia.”

“Marry me.”

“Pass.”

For a while, normal kami.

Kumain.

Nagkuwentuhan tungkol sa trabaho.

May officemate siyang nakipag-break sa boyfriend dahil nahuli raw na may dating app.

May client akong gusto ng seven different fonts sa isang poster.

Normal.

No Derek.

No letters.

No anonymous messages.

And I liked it.

Until Lara noticed the sketch.

Again.

“Mika.”

“What?”

“Bakit nandiyan pa rin?”

“Bawal?”

“Hindi.”

She ate quietly.

Then I asked, “Ano'ng huling sinabi ni Derek sa'yo?”

Her fork stopped.

There.

That reaction again.

“Bakit?”

“Curious.”

“Bigla?”

“Yes.”

She put the fork down.

“Hindi ko maalala.”

“You don't remember?”

“Three years ago na.”

I studied her.

“Pero naaalala mo na pinakita niya sa'yo yung sketch.”

“Mika…”

“I'm asking.”

“Why?”

Because someone wanted me to.

I didn't say that.

Instead, “Gusto ko lang maalala.”

“Ang alin?”

“Everything.”

Something changed in her face.

Not fear exactly.

Sadness.

“Minsan,” sabi niya, “hindi mo kailangang alalahanin lahat.”

My stomach tightened.

“You've said something like that before.”

“Because it's true.”

“Why?”

“Because some memories don't help.”

“That's not for you to decide.”

“I know.”

“Then stop deciding for me.”

Silence.

She looked down.

“I didn't mean it like that.”

“Then tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What happened before Derek left.”

Her eyes met mine.

“We already talked about this.”

“No. Ako ang nagsasalita. Ikaw, puro ‘Mika’ at ‘stop’.”

“Mika--”

“See?”

She closed her eyes.

I waited.

“Nag-away kayo,” she finally said.

“I know.”

“About Canada.”

“I know.”

“Hindi kayo okay.”

“I know that too.”

“Then ano pa?”

“What happened after?”

Lara went still.

My heartbeat changed.

“After what?”

“After he sent the message.”

She looked away.

“Lara.”

“Late na.”

“What?”

“I should go.”

I laughed once.

“Seriously?”

“I have work tomorrow.”

“It's 7:30.”

She stood.

I stood too.

“Why do you always leave kapag ganito?”

“Ayokong makipag-away.”

“Hindi tayo nag-aaway.”

“You're interrogating me.”

“Because you're hiding something!”

She looked at me sharply.

For one second, I thought she'd shout.

Instead, her voice softened.

“I'm trying to protect you.”

My anger disappeared.

“From what?”

Her eyes filled with something I couldn't name.

Then she shook her head.

“I shouldn't have said that.”

“Lara.”

She grabbed her bag.

“I'm sorry.”

“Stop!”

She flinched.

I did too.

The room went silent.

“I hate that word,” I whispered.

She knew why.

Derek's last message.

Sorry.

Lara looked at me for a long time.

Then she walked toward the door.

Before leaving, she turned.

“Please, Mika.”

“What?”

“If that number messages again…”

She swallowed.

“Don't let it make you doubt everything you remember.”

Then she left.

I stood there.

Confused.

Because that was the opposite of what I expected her to say.

If she was hiding something, shouldn't she want me to doubt myself?

Unless--

No.

I locked the door.

At 10:41 PM, I opened the box.

I told myself I wouldn't.

I did anyway.

Not all 36.

Just the first.

The oldest envelope.

The one I'd received 3 years ago.

I unfolded the letter.

My Mika,

I'm sorry.

-D

I ran my thumb over the handwriting.

“Anong nangyari sa atin?”

No answer.

Obviously.

Then I remembered the anonymous message.

What was the last thing you said to him?

I reached for my phone.

Opened old messages.

Scrolled.

Three years.

Derek's thread was still there.

Thousands of messages.

Photos.

Memes.

Arguments.

Random I love yous.

I scrolled toward the end.

My breathing slowed.

There.

His last message.

Hindi ko na kaya. Sorry.

I stared at it.

But something was wrong.

Not with his message.

With mine.

Because underneath it--

there was no reply.

Nothing.

No angry message.

No goodbye.

No fine.

No I hate you.

Nothing.

I had called him six times.

All unanswered.

Then stopped.

That was it.

I frowned.

I remembered crying.

I remembered being angry.

I remembered throwing something.

A pillow?

A mug?

I remembered--

My head hurt.

Then another memory flashed.

Someone saying my name.

I dropped the phone.

“No.”

Gone.

I pressed both hands against my temples.

“Hindi iyon sa araw na umalis siya.”

I didn't know why I said it.

Maybe because I needed to hear it.

I looked at Derek's letter.

I'm sorry.

Then his final text.

Hindi ko na kaya. Sorry.

Same apology.

Three years later, I had always treated the first letter as proof that Derek regretted leaving.

That he was still out there.

Still thinking of me.

Still loving me.

So why was someone trying so hard to make me remember our goodbye?

My phone vibrated.

I stared at it on the floor.

I didn't want to touch it.

But eventually, I did.

Unknown number.

One message.

You keep remembering the fight.

Another appeared.

Try remembering what came after.

My hands went cold.

I typed:

WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

This time, the reply came immediately.

The truth.

I stared at that word.

Truth.

As if there was only one.

As if mine wasn't enough.

I looked at the thirty-six letters beside me.

For three years, I had never asked myself whether I believed Derek's letters.

I simply did.

Because the handwriting was his.

The words sounded like him.

The perfume smelled like him.

And every fifteenth, they came.

That had always been enough.

But now, for the first time, another question entered my mind.

Not who was sending them.

I knew who.

Derek.

I still believed that.

The question was--

ano ba talaga ang nangyari pagkatapos naming mag-away?

At bakit wala akong matandaan?

Damn..