There was an awkward silence between us. I was still holding back few tears in the corners of my eyes which could have dropped at any moment if I winked.
He saw me teary-eyed over a stupid book. How stupid can that be?
How did I allow this to happen?
I might just die instead.
His blue eyes looked like a cloudless sky when his pupils dilated. He was still holding the rim of his black and white Nikon camera and I thought of all the photos that Nana buried along with her dead sons. He looked at the book that I was holding and his expression swiftly changed to delight.
"Oh! Angela's Ashes, by Frank McCourt!" He exclaimed. "That one has a dark humor to it," said he like he's reading my mind. "It had won the Pulitzer, you know..." he continued like he can go on talking for days and I badly wanted him to stop. Perhaps a punch straight in his face that I held back earlier would do trick.
"You know the Pulitzer? The greatest..." he emphasized the word Pull-it-zer like I did not know what he was talking about.
Did he think I'm dumb or something?
I clenched my fist and stopped him mid-sentence. "I know what Pulitzer is..." I snapped out which got him flustered. His face turned red and he was silent for a while then he said "Of course you do..." and looked at his toes remorsefully like a child caught of eating cookies before bed-time.
There's something about his facial expression that made me feel guilty.
In my head I would have said "Get the fuck outta here," but what came out of my mouth was "Thanks for the ride earlier by the way," his eyes lit up like a log-fire crackling with flames that refused to be extinguished.
It was hard not to look at him so I gave him a side-face glance. He smiled and everything around us gravitated towards the dimples on his cheeks.
"I'm Larry Davis Magsalay," he reached out his hand to me pulling me in to him like a blackhole. You know Blackholes? Those monstrous space odditties that eats planets and stars for breakfast?
"I'm Florante Mendoza." I cleared my throat.
We both shook hands mid-air. His hands felt soft and velvety to the touch and I was afraid I wounded him with the decade-worth of callous on my palms.
"Can we be friends?" He beamed at me again with his light-emanating smile. Maybe he's a pulsar too.
I have not known of any friendship etiquette since no guy ever dared to befriend me before. Not that I care. So I just said "Uhhhmm..." then looked away. His face was full of expression, mostly happy and he was not holding it back. He was not afraid to show it.
He was not afraid of me like the rest of the guys in the school.
"What are you listening to?" He eyed my Walkman.
We were both seated opposite to each other. Is this what friends do? Sit opposite to each other so close that it made me feel claustrophobic? I'm starting to have second thoughts about this friendship offer.
"Cyndi Lauper...Time after Time..." I replied uninterestingly.
"That's neat! Can I hear it?" Beam fired again. I would not wonder if I go blind after this encounter.
I'm starting to hate this friendship thing but I played along to shut his machine-gun of a mouth. "Sure, slide on in..." I sounded very commanding but he did not mind. I moved a little to make a space for him beside me and placed the other earphone on his right ear, almost instinctively.
Almost.
That was the closest that I have ever been with someone and I almost choked.
Almost.
**The song played**
Flashback, warm nights
I fall behind
suitcase memories...
He smiled. I smiled (or more likely scorned). We were so close that I can smell his head full of hair and it smelled like watermelon.
I think his presence was tolerable.
**The song continued**
Secrets stolen from deep inside
The drum beats out of time if you're lost you can look, and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting
Time after time...
"Nice song..." he commented.
"Yeah..." I shrugged my shoulders.