The One Who Will Never Be

What I’m about to tell you, is a true-to-life story that pretty much happens to everyone. I wanted to post this before the end of July but things got a little busy on my part, so I completely forgot I even wrote this. The following happened on June 2, 2018.

I thought I wouldn’t see her again.

Yesterday was my first day in the review centre for the upcoming Licensure Examination for Teachers (LET) board exam this September. I live alone and I woke up an hour before the class starts, so I had to rush to get there. I didn’t even know where it was, and I relied on the handy-dandy Google Maps to get there. When I got there, clusters of teachers are lined up, choosing where to sit for a better view.

I found two batchmates of mine so I sat behind them and a senior, also from the same university, sat next to me. The people around us were nothing more but strangers, soon to be acquaintances. We weren’t on the familiar side anymore, a side where we are in the comfort of our friends and security of our parents.

I was quite aware; this is the next step. Things are now being serious and safe to say, playtime’s over. I am in the stage of what is now called adulting. A stage where fresh college grads are stepping up into the stage of adult life; taking care of SSS, PAG-IBIG and PhilHealth documents, finding a job, etc.

Then, I turned around and saw a girl who, upon taking her seat, recognized me.

She was a friend—a dear friend—I met when I was a third year college student.

I was in a serious relationship that time and an upcoming badminton was brewing. I heard she played for our college once so I walked up to her and asked if she’s willing to be my mixed doubles partner. We immediately became close that time; teaching so many things about each other and talking about how wonderful life is. 

We had this pertinent similarities and differences that we knew quite well. At that time, I saw her as a comrade. She was there for me, despite the fact that we only knew each other for just a number of days, and I was there for her. There were things that we admire, that we love about each other, that kept the friendship going.

The event was catastrophic. I was unadvised that I wasn’t listed as a player and this fact was only brought to light on the day of the tournament. The managers of the event didn’t know what to say, as it turns out that they placed their close friend rather than me, who signed up early. A friend of mine who introduced me to the tournament told me that he was ignored when he kept on saying “hey, I already found a guy. He just needs a partner.”.

Both of us were mad at that time. I felt so betrayed that these managers betray me and couldn’t give me an explanation. I wasted three months pouring my heart and soul on training my body just so I could participate in the event, only to realize that I was replaced for someone they were close with.

She saw how devastated I was—I saw it in her eyes. I decided to let it cool and just accept it. When they were about to leave for the venue, she embraced me. She apologized for not being able to do anything, and I entrusted her with one of my racquets. At the end of the day, she texted me and told me how they devastatingly lost, and her partner (my replacement) was eaten with nervousness.

The following day, I was depressed. I was betrayed—the carpet was taken from under me. Then, she appeared and gave me a letter with a little flower. She lifted my spirits up. How could this person, this girl who I just met, be so sweet and caring? Of course my girlfriend at that time was furious about it, but she understood at the end.

The following semester, my relationship was falling apart and she was there to counsel me. She already had a boyfriend (whom she would break up with after a few months) but still we kept the connection going. We were friends, and our relationship proved me wrong—that guys and gals cannot be friends. Our friendship wasn’t just professional, but something worth holding on to. Eventually my ex and I broke up and the more, depressing days, followed. But she was still there, hoping and praying that I will be okay eventually.

Another tournament was brewing up, this time with the proper assurance that I will play. We did train, this time with my best friend, and a musician who we just met. The four of us entered the tournament, but lost anyway. But in the end, it was fun and we did get to meet new people who shared the same interest. 

The four of us were planning to celebrate, at the very least, but she and her boyfriend have compromises to deal with so she left early. She did apologize because she had to break off, and deeply apologized to me because she felt that the two of us lost because of her. She knew how dedicated I was at the sport, and felt that I let her down. Of course I begged to differ.

However, her new boyfriend was jealous. He was in her words, paranoid, over me. I understood where her boyfriend was coming off, after all I myself just got out of a five-year relationship. To make things easier for the two of them, I distanced myself. I told her that I was more than willing to break our friendship if it means that their relationship will work out. Of course, she was an adversary to this suggestion.

Until the last semester came, and friendship was totally over. I told her that I did have feelings for her and she felt betrayed. Ironic that, she comforted me when I felt betrayed, but I ended up betraying her. I remember her saying that I was the only friend that didn’t fall in love with her, and I remember laughing it out. Our constant conversations, the minute-long conversation when we see each other before class, the fun times that we had, it all ended when I saw in our Messenger conversation the words:

“You can no longer reply to this conversation.”

It was the day before my final demonstration. My last subject, and everything depended on it. If all was successful, then all the sacrifices paid off, but that happened. I had to remain strong, and I understood completely that she did the right thing. But at that point, after my final demonstration—that would soon prove successful that I didn’t even dream at that time—I realized the words of my best friend. He said that his girlfriend was a paranoid and he lost quite a few friends because of her jealousy, and it pained him the most.

I finally understood what he meant, what he felt. So this is how it feels, I thought.

Before and after our graduation ceremony, there were instances that I wanted to walk up to her and congratulate her. There were words ready to be said, goodbyes that are waiting to fly off. But I didn’t. I didn’t want any more reason for her boyfriend to get jealous, for her relationship to go in flames. I didn’t any part of it anymore.

She deserves to be happy. And that means destroying the friendship entirely. Let it fade into nothing.

As soon as graduation ended, and the adulting process starts, I already accepted that I lost a friend. I accepted that I wouldn’t see her again, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Until I saw her again, in that review centre.

She told me that she planned to be a loner, but deep inside, wanted someone familiar. The seat next to me was empty so I offered her to sit next to me. She told me that she and her boyfriend are constantly fighting over things. Our senior, me, and her, started a team for this review. We shared lunch and accompanied each other in the mall after the orientation.

She told me that I might’ve met someone in that review centre who could be the One, where time will move slowly and connections made immediately. But I digressed. I told her that time moved slowly when I saw her again, and memories came flashing back immediately. There was hope for this friendship to cling on to its dying existence.

Our senior had to leave early, so it was just the two of us again, after all these months. I told her that I was happy to see her again. I told her that I didn’t want to lose the friendship again, and she felt the same. We both had to give up on something in order for something else to work out. We went to this pizza parlor—my treat as usual—and ate, at least I did.

When her plate was offered at our table, her boyfriend called. I told the busboy to have her order packed. I told her, with a smile, to go. I told her, like I always did.

She apologized once more. The same thing was happening all over again. She would leave me hanging, so to speak. Even though I kept on telling her that it was okay, and that I understood completely, she still apologized. But there was never time for apologies—she had priorities to take care of.

I was left at that pizza parlor, finishing my plate, alone. Life was complicated, I said to myself and to the person sitting next to me. I finished my meal and left. I walked the same path she and I walked when we first had our training. I walked below the train platform and saw that little dining place we had our first dinner, and how it was my first time eating at that platform. 

I remembered those days—a past where things weren’t that complicated and less painful. I walked past her drop-off point, remembering the words we exchanged in parting. I walked to the underpass and remembered how marvelous it was seeing it the first time, despite it being dangerous.

I walked that familiar path, and remembered my realization, that she made me discover new things. She made me appreciate things I didn’t like before, and shed light to the shadows that clouded my mind.

I woke up early to find her boyfriend leaving a message to me. It wasn’t threatening, but he told me that he trusted me. For the first time in my life I was enraged over such trivial things. I told him the truth, that I have no intentions of stealing her from him nor do I have the time for relationships. I told him how these past few days that I felt so powerful now that there is nothing else to distract me from reaching my personal legend. I told him the truth, that under no circumstances, will hinder me from reaching my goals.

I was firm, because in reality, I don’t want to be in a relationship. I don’t want to fall in love. I don’t want any of that, at least for now. All I wanted was to reach my goal and perhaps fate brought her back so we could become friends again. I didn’t want anything more, nothing but just to meet and catch up.

What I realized was this, as I walked the familiar path:

What we loved about each other, was never enough to leave the ones we were with.

That love was our friendship, our memories and lessons we imparted with one another. And the ones we were with was our comforts. She was with her boyfriend, and I was at the comfort of discovering new things—a different life that I’m exploring.

My best friend once told me that she was the one that got away. I begged to differ, and I still stand on it up to this day:

She was the one that will never be.