The church was silent as I entered that night. Gone were the heavenly voices of the children’s choir that a few hours ago lent the small full packed house of worship an ambiance of solemnity and reverence. All I could see were the soundless and immobile statues of saints and Christian figures. All I could hear were the muffled echo of my footsteps as I entered.
“Nobody here yet?”
I asked the shadows, expecting no reply and I was not mistaken.
I forced my legs to move forward, and guided them to a small side entrance near the left side of the altar. It took me to a small enclosed space beside the priest’s home, a plaza of sorts which our theatre group was able to borrow for a few hours a night to be used a rehearsals. And tonight was going to be the first night.
I seemed that I was a bit early for our 7:00 pm schedule, and looking at the greenish luminous dial of my wrist watch, I found out that I truly was a bit early.
“Darn!” I muttered to myself never expecting a reply from the darkness.
“Good evening,” came a hesitant voice from somewhere to my right.
Surprised, I ventured a glance from the direction from which the greeting came and a shadow began to form from the dimness; that of a young man approaching me uncertainly.
“Come nearer please, so that I can see you better!”
But still he did not come nearer, shy maybe, doubtful yet, after a bit of time with small tentative steps he did approach and it was the first time I ever laid eyes on that face.
Dark brooding eyes almost covered by soft curly clumps of hair. Skin, unmarred by time and stress. Long lean arms, a body covered by a thin shirt that could barely hide the muscles rippling from farm work. Maybe it was the gloom that lent him that aura, that look that made me think of Botticelli.
And the lights suddenly came on.
“Thank goodness you are here JR, we should be here when the first of our casts arrive!” intruded Jenny, our director.
She was followed by more people and the theatre group soon exploded with a flurry of activity all around me. I never saw nor talked more to that young boy of 17 that night. Although I glanced upon him with the props crew here and there. But his face was imbedded upon my thoughts.
Days went by and the rehearsals became more and more eventful.
Still, I cant forget that very first look. Until finally, one rainy night right after we have packed up. I was struggling home with bundles of unfinished costumes and suddenly he was there.
“Can I help you home?” he asked.
Timidly I nodded and drenched in rain, we both walked towards my temporary residence burdened by parcels of plastic bags yet somehow I felt elated.
“You don’t have to stare at me all the time you know, all you had to do was talk to me!” he suddenly blurted out. I stopped, right in the middle of the road and looked at him. He was looking right into my soul and I knew it was pointless to speak.
“I know!” he said and those two words said it all.
From that night on, we were inseparable. Well, he spent the night at my grandparent’s house and the rain only made what was inevitable better and warmer. For weeks we got closer and closer and though I was a few years older than he was I never felt the gap. In fact there were times that I realized he was older than me in thoughts. Maybe growing up in the farm gave you more insights.
The performance was great but somehow I felt empty. I knew that something I had with him was about to end, I had to go back to city life and what we had was over. The fling had to stop.
I shed a few tear, well not a few as I recall but then again, we had to move on. He himself cried. And somehow I knew that what we had made an impact to him as it had to me. I began to wonder, was that even just a fling?
Years went by, more flings came but I never really forgot that face from a darkened hall beside a rural church. I never forgot those words … “I know…” I never forgot him.
Then one day, eight years after that summer fling, standing tired in a full packed MRT. My heart suddenly raced…my blood pressure shut up… I was all trembling when I heard the words … “I know!”
Hesitantly, I looked behind me and there he was. Somehow older, somehow more mature but the eyes spoke it all. And I said, “Yes, I really do know!”
And now the fling is over, and the real companionship began. Now its been eight years and when someone tells me that love is sweeter the second time around I just shrug my shoulders and say …
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