Andromache and His Little Secret

Chapter Three

At that very moment, we had a small talk. It is part of the activity. I don’t really like talking with strangers, but with her, it seems different. It is, as if, I met her before but my memory can’t recognize her. In this fleeting time, Mrs. Welsh starts the discussion. “Newton lay down the idea that gravity is a predictable force which acts on all matter in the universe.” Things collide in my sight. I hear her voice again, a voice like mallow that sinks in over my ears through my head. Olivia raises her hand while Mrs. Welsh is in the middle of the discussion. “What about gravity pulling love?” She asks with excitement. Mrs. Welsh makes it clear, “Do you mean gravity of love?”. “Kinda.” I sigh knowing that she already knows the answer about it.

“There are forces outside of our reality which are trying to move us towards a better future. If gravity and love are two ways of describing the same thing, then love is the only thing that exerts.”

“Can somebody feel it?” She asks to clarify her point.

“Without gravity, there would be form. All things around us would be a void of chaotic darkness. Love has space, time, and gravity. Great gravity pulls us so painfully toward each other. We don’t bond because there should be space like what I’ve said. But yes, anybody can feel it.” Mrs. Welsh explains as clear as crystal. Olivia seems earnestly listening to every word Mrs. Welsh has to say.

“You can’t blame gravity for falling in love.” Mrs. Welsh continues. “Love is an example of a falling object. Gravity is a contributing factor in nearly 74 percent of all accidents including love.”

Mrs. Welsh dismisses the class soon as the discussion ends. I muster all my courage before I am the right person to do whatever I want to do. Now I know: Love and gravity are equivalent in value. It’s never a matter of why we end up being heartbroken and why we break someone’s heart. It can never exist between two people if they couldn’t also feel it exist outside of them. It can hurt because the pain has deep roots.

I am amused by what is happening to me today. Reluctantly, I pack up and leave. When I get back to the house, I find mom doing her cross-stitch in a stairwell, books spread out over the landing as if it were her desk. “How was school, Andy?” She asks and wants to know it as quickly as possible. “It was fine, mom. We had a group discussion and a lot to take in for a day.” I reply without sarcasm. I find myself wishing we can talk more often, but things are not like that around the house. Dad isn’t home yet. He usually goes home around midnight when everybody falls deep into their sleep.

I head to my room to change my clothes and to write a letter. I set up my laptop and turn on my lampshade. Writing a letter is my journal where I can keep records of what happens to me every day.  I leave the door ajar so I can hear what my mom has to say then I start writing.

Dear Friend,

 I am still thinking of other things I could have said during Advanced English class but as a result, I thought of nothing. It’s not that I do not like the topic Mrs. Welsh gave us for the group discussion. It’s just that I really do not know how to pick the right words and how to articulate my thoughts well. The good thing is, I did not get to read the first chapter of the book she assigned us to read. I’ve studied the first chapter and I am pretty sure I can pull it off. During the discussion, there was a girl who participated well. Her name is Olivia but she insisted to call her, Oli for short. She’s well-spoken and a smart-aleck. I have this odd feeling that I met her before but my memory tends to not remember her. If there is one theory I know aside from Quantum Theory or Theory of Relativity is this: We tend to forget what our mind is telling us to remember. There is so much to know about her without me giving her a clue that I have my oddity. She always gives me a look that would bewilder me; I could not understand it. If she seems to be in my memory, then why does she feel distant to me? Is that how it is supposed to feel? Even though I know everything will make me feel dismayed, I would still discover more of her. As this feeling grows ephemerally, I can sense a course of change. A change I am willing to make. But the thing with many of us is that we are always willing to change for someone, but not for ourselves. At least, I knew this long before I have to do it.  We always question our capability to be someone else, but never did we really question ourselves to be the better version of ourselves. I know things that happened today are a lot to take in and I am prepared to wake up the next day knowing I have nothing left for me. There is always tomorrow. It is just a small miracle that one day, I find myself looking at my own reflection and start to wonder my what-ifs. I want to be able to wake up tomorrow and tell myself that the only thing keeping me alive is keeping my secret. If I get to trust someone, then I might say it. I just do not know how long I will be keeping it with me and make it my own. I want to wake up tomorrow and be able to say, “There is always a better tomorrow to look forward to.”.

                                                                                                                                                                Love always,

                                                                                                                                                                Andromache