I See You

Lyka

“A moment only becomes a memory if it lingers.”

* * * * *

I watched him puff down three sticks as if it were nothing to him. I get it. He was a teacher, and those were the most stressed people in the world. Well, aside from my previous guidance counselors. He looked completely drained, physically and emotionally.

Out of all the teachers in that damned school, he taught with the most energy and enthusiasm, as far as I could tell. But he also never smiled. He made jokes that made some students laugh, but he himself remained calm and contained. When he made emphasis on certain points he’d speak louder and louder until his point reached a profound conclusion. It puzzled me how someone could sound so excited without smiling.

Nonetheless, he was amazing. He held no textbook nor used any notes. Everything came from his own knowledge as if his lectures were a rehearsed one man show with audience participation. Imagine doing that for the whole day.

Compared to the mean-but-sort-of-nice guy I’ve met in detention, I had no idea he’d be that type of teacher. And as I stood next to him in awkward silence out on the street, finding relief in the sensation of tobacco, I had no idea that he’d be this type of guy. Passionate, but lifeless.

It’s confusing.

“Do you always brood like this after class?” I asked almost too loudly. He was startled.

“Is that what you’d call it? Brooding?”

“Staring into blankness, spacing out on the whole universe, contemplating on life, death, existence, tampons. All that while making a model’s hot constipated face. Yeah. That’s brooding.”

“I don’t brood.”

“What would you call it then?”

“Hmm. I’d like to think that I just find myself…living out of the moment, I guess.”

“Ah. Pretentious brooding, got it.”

“Kid, why do you insist on annoying me?”

“It’s a talent I’ve mastered from years of experience. And hey, you found me this time around. If you didn’t want to be annoyed, you shouldn’t have approached me.”

“Hmm…fair enough. I’ll be going now. Get home this time, alright?”

“What? So you’re just going to leave me?”

“I’ve got better things to do while there’s still some light.”

“Where are you going?”

“You don’t need to know. You need to get your ass home before your parents get worried.”

“They’re not here. It’s just me here right now. And-and so why would I go home all alone feeling lonely when I could be out here, on the streets feeling…feeling…”

“Lonely?” he interrupted. He then lit another one. “If you didn’t want to feel lonely, you shouldn’t have come out here all alone finding a stick to light.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”

“I like feeling lonely. That’s the difference between you and me. That, and I’m not clumsy,” he said, taking out the camera that I watched him assemble earlier. A sudden rush of familiar guilt filled my heart.

“You know, I could take that off your hands. I could make a few calls, I’ve got some numbers of repair guys who are experts at fixing the tiniest things—”

“Piss off, I can do it,” he said. For the first time since I’ve known him he started glowing purple.

“You really love that camera, I can tell.”

He paused for a second before he finally looked up at me.

“Yeah. Maybe even more than you love your red hair.”

“So not at all?” I said, laughing. “I told you, this, this frizzy pile of fur was a funny accident.”

“No, Kim’s neon hair was the funny accident,” he said with a blunt tone.

“So you admit that it was funny! Ha!”

His face was blank, but cocky. I hate this guy.

“You’re a really good liar, do you know that? Maybe you should become a lawyer, or a sales rep, or a pastor’s wife,” he said, killing his cigarette.

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, sorry, you could be the pastor. Changing world, no to gender roles. You don’t need no man, am I right sistah?”

“First of all, never say that again. And second of all, that’s not what I meant.”

“What then?”

“I’m not a liar.”

“I disagree. We all are. But you, you’ve got the skill. You know just the right amount of truth to tell in order to sell the lie part.”

“You think I made up the story about the hair dye?”

“No, I think you made up the reason why you kept it. I also think you lied to Shirley about you dying it back to black in a couple of months.”

“Why? What did she tell you?”

“Nothing, kid.”

He wasn’t lying. He caught me. What the hell is wrong with this guy?

“Are you also a mind reader or something?” I asked sarcastically.

“No, just a teacher. You think I wouldn’t know how to tell if a kid was lying?”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Yes, you are.”

“How would you know, Mr. Teacher?”

“Trust me, if you were an adult, you’d be wishing someone would call you a kid.”

“But you’re, like, still in your twenties, right? Technically, you could still be a kid.”

“Thanks,” he said, raising the right corner of his mouth, sort of like a half smile.

He was an adult, alright.

***

Despite his insistence on being alone, I convinced him to take me with him wherever he was going. The power of persuasion. It didn’t help at all. Persistent badgering, high pitched whining and a series of ‘pleeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaase’ begging with hands folded into a prayer? Now that s**t works. Turns out that he was out on the night taking photographs of the city lights. Not with the camera that I busted up. At least, not anymore. He has a digital camera, the kind that only professional photographers and persistent stalkers would use.

He let me come along to his city adventure on one condition: every time the camera was up to his face, I wasn’t allowed to talk. It’s a lot harder than I thought. I was so curious to see the type of photos he took. With a face like his, it’s quite surprising how he’s behind the camera instead of being in front of it.

I remained good and silent most of the time like he asked. I wanted to get on his good side. From experience, I learned that you wouldn’t want to anger meek and nice people. You wouldn’t want to be on the other end of the line when they’d snap.

We rode trains and buses, stopped by street food vendors, and went up and down streets. He was full of energy all of a sudden, running and crouching just to get the perfect shot. Or at least that’s what it looks like. I thought maybe he was just showing off, but there were times when he’d look back and be surprised that I was standing behind him watching. It was either he forgot that I came along or he just wasn’t used to doing his thing with someone watching him. Well, someone he knew, at least. A tall good-looking foreign guy flexing his muscles when taking pictures with a fancy camera is certainly a sight that would attract even the busiest people walking by.

Our last destination was the parking lot of the convenience store. It was a bit emptier now, it being almost midnight.

“Why are we back here? Couldn’t you have just, like, taken pictures of this place before we left earlier?”

“Something poetic about coming back where you started, don’t you think?”

“You’re really full of pretentious crap, aren’t you?”

“Watch your language.”

“Oh, sorry. You’re full of pretentious crap, Sir.”

“Hmm. I’ll take it. Want one?” he said, offering yet another cigarette.

“You know, you smoke too much.”

“I know. I quit once, lasted eight years without it. Then, two years ago, I started again, with my addiction back and better than ever,” he said, striking a match to light his cigarette.

“Never heard of a lighter?”

“I had one, once, custom made even, but that’s gone. Besides, it’s much better to use matches. Out with plastic, you know?” he said as he, well, huffed and puffed like a tobacco addicted wolf. Before I could ask him another question, he lifted his camera, pointing at the convenience store’s neon sign.

“Don’t you use flash for this kind of time?” I asked as soon as he finished.

“Flash is crap. Everything here’s got night mode settings.”

“Even the film camera?”

“Even the film camera what?” he asked.

“The film camera has night mode settings too?”

“No, Yours doesn’t, but I’m not really sure if there are any film cameras that do.”

“Huh? What? I’m confused.”

He looked at me like I was crazy until he came to a realization.

“Right, I forgot to explain. These cameras have names.”

Maybe I’m not the crazy one after all.

“What…? You mean like the models or brands or something?”

“No, actual names. Like people. This one’s name is Everything. The film camera’s name is Yours.”

“If I can recall right, you have two other cameras?”

“Yes. The other two are Mine and It.”

“Really? You couldn’t have gone with normal names like Bob or John or Cammy?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t name them.”

“But aren’t they yours?”

“Well, technically it’s just Yours and Everything that are mine.”

“Does that mean It and Mine aren’t yours?”

“No, Yours isn’t Mine, they’re totally different.”

“Its name is quite confusing.”

“What’s confusing about It? It isn’t mine.”

“Like how Mine isn’t yours?”

“Yours is mine. It isn’t mine.”

“So you don’t own Yours either?”

“Own my what?”

“Yours.”

“What?”

“Forget it.”

“It isn’t mine.”

“Just stop. Just stop everything.”

“Everything is the other one that’s mine.”

“WHAT KIND OF i***t NAMES HIS CAMERAS?” I yelled in frustration. I covered my mouth, realizing I was louder that I wanted to be. His face was blank, but I swore I heard him laugh under his breath.

“Well, that was fun,” he said with faint grin on his face. It was the closest thing to a smile that I’ve ever seen him make. I was still embarrassed, but I was proud at the same time. I made him (sort of) smile.

“Wh-why did you name them?”

“It’s fun.”

“What’s with their names?”

“Based on tiny inside jokes made to confuse people.”

“Who owns the other two?”

“A friend,” he said, turning blue. Before I could ask, he put his hand up to stop me from talking. He turned his wrist to me to show me the time on his thin leather-strapped watch.

“Wow, I think I should go home now.”

“You think? You have class in the morning, and I’m very sure you’d piss off your teacher if you show up late again.”

“Well then, I guess I’d rather not go,” I said jokingly. He didn’t get it.

“I’ll say this for the last time today. Go home, kid.”

“Jeez, it’ll be pretty dangerous walking from here back to the apartment.”

“Are you carrying anything like scissors or something heavy?”

“No, all I have is my phone and cash.”

“Here,” he said, handing me a switch blade. “Bring it back to me tomorrow.”

“You know, you could just walk me home. You know, to make sure I get home in one piece. You’re a grown-up, after all.”

“You’re technically eighteen this year, you’ll be fine. Plus, I’ve got my own place to get to, much more farther than where you live from here. Besides, you don’t need me for protection. All you need is that knife, and some caution.”

“Chivalry is dying, isn’t it?”

“It is dead. To make room for gender equality. You don’t need a man to walk by you to feel safer, just like how I trust that you’d be capable handling things yourself without my aid.”

“It confuses me how you’re a jerk and a nice guy at the same time.”

“I know. See you in class,” he said as he walked away, killing his last cigarette of the night.