It was not like any other night, that rainy night in June when I saw you. It was 9 pm. It was darker that the usual rainy nights I’ve encountered in my 25 years of existence. The rain can’t seem to stop from spilling its cold and harsh wetness from where we were standing. We we’re in a dilapidated waiting shed. Waters were leaking everywhere. The roof with all of its holes keeps dropping stinging cold water to people who just want to find shelter from the bad weather. Even the walls can’t fight the harsh winds that blow coldness to everyone in that long forgotten shed.
You were trying to keep it together. You were freezing all over. Wet because you were too late from looking for a temporary shelter from the unexpected visit of the rain. You’re shaking. You in that sleeveless shirt, high – waisted shorts, and high heels, I thought to myself that maybe you regret how you’re dressed that night. But you kept fighting the harsh weather with both of your arms embracing each other, shielding your body from the cold. You fought hard.
I can’t remember how you got there as I was busy playing on my smartphone. I was there before you, and before people flocked for shelter in that tiny shed. I was there because it’s the place where I wait for a jeepney to take me home. I was there before the rain. I was there before you came. I was there before this story even began.
As the night goes deeper and the rain harsher, people kept going in and out of that tiny shed. Some people stayed only temporarily until they find their umbrella while some people longer than the others. Apparently, you don’t have one, and that forced you to stay behind. Jeepneys, and tricycles passed by full of people who lost in their battle with the rain. Wet all over, you stood there waiting, too, for the rain to finally pass, and to finally catch a ride, and go home.
I know who you are. I have heard stories about you. Of how the beauty you possess can launch a thousand ships just like how Helen’s did. Of how that sweet voice of yours lures men in just like how a mermaid can. Of how those naive almond eyes can captivate anybody just like Audrey Hepburn’s. You’re the muse of an artist. And in that moment, I want to be one.
It was 10:30 pm when the rain stopped. The wind also stopped whistling with its cold voice. And in that damp night, it’s just the two of us, and that tiny shed we made our temporary home.
“Thank you, God! Tumigil din,” you said with your sweet enchanting voice as you stepped outside that cold, and gloomy shed still waiting for your transport to take you home.
“Chance ko na ito,” I thought to myself. You see, I want to talk to you but the torpe inside of me kept holding me back. I just stood there, and waited until you notice me, and my dreary existence.
I waited, and waited but you never turned your back. And I just stood there still as the crickets sing their lullabies. You’re just standing there too under the bright yellow light of the lamp post, waiting for that damn jeepney to pass you by.
I waited. You waited. Both of us waited. Until that jeepney stopped in front of you, and you got in without even looking back.
Some people may have lost their battle with the cold, and harsh rain that night but there I was standing still in that tiny dilapidated shed who lost in another battle far worse than the unexpected visit of the rain.