Allan's niece Maggie asks me to teach her play the piano.  "But I haven't played in over a year, what am I gonna teach you?" I ask her.  "Whatever you still remember Tita Erika," she says, as she looks up at me with her irresistable pleading eyes.  I gave in and taught her Mary Had a Little Lamb, two hands, mind you.

I envy her. She's a little girl with talent and dreams and the world at her feet and I'm just a girl who stopped believing, disillusioned with the grown up world.

Sometimes I'm even at a loss for words, and it's a little sad, really, because after all, words are all I have.

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But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm getting older too

-Landslide, Fleetwood Mac

He shifts on the bed as I type these very words, his large hand seeking the small of my back.  I hear him call my name, softly, as if I am in his dream, if he is dreaming at all.

And suddenly all is forgiven.


(Although I'm not sure it will be just as peaceful in the morning when he wakes up to see the mangled remains of another one of his leather shoes that Chicken chewed).

For the past 3 days I've been sleeping well past 3 am; like now, with Al noisily snoring beside me.  A number of things have been keeping me up. 1) My job and how I sometimes love it but most of the time hate it, 2) how I badly want to transfer my sister to St. -Bleep- and how on earth am I going to pay for the expenses, and 3) how much I want to hack Al's accounts but could not, for the life of me, because that would be the ultimate betrayal of trust.

I did mention I could do that, didn't I?

It was a small white house - just a front porch, a garage for the car and the dogs, and a small square for everything else. It was simple, we didn’t need much. We leave for work, like most people do – me to take care of the sick and you to teach, but we go back to our small white square, to each other. We always do. We were happy.

The first time we had an argument, I smashed all the plates in anger, you went out to get some air. I waited for you to come home, watched TV slumped on the couch, ended up crying myself to sleep. When I woke up, I heard you snoring but noticed it was fainter. I opened my eyes and there it was, in the middle of our small square. A wall. Our small square now has a bedroom. “Why did you build a wall,” I asked, shaking you awake. “What wall?” You looked at me, confused, like I suddenly had button eyes. “That wall.” I said, pointing to my right. You stared at it for a minute and shrugged. “Must’ve gotten there while we were sleeping,” you said.
“Are you still mad?”
A heavy sigh.
“Come here.”
I scooted over to your side of the bed and you kept me in your arms till I fell asleep, till your hands went numb.

***

Neither of us ever saw the exact moment they appear but there they are right after a fight, after a shouting match, after a bitter exchange of words we never meant to say. The thick white walls, the big white doors. A fight over the remote, a second room. Dirty dishes left on the sink overnight, a wall. You forgoing our date for a school event, a long hallway. A jealous fit over what’s-her-face, another room. Me forgetting to pay the bills, another door…and the list goes on. Clothes unwashed, papers scattered, toothpaste wasted.

Our biggest fight to date, another floor.
We now live in a mansion. I miss you.

***

It’s Valentine’s and I’ve been looking for you in this maze the whole day. I grow tired and lie on the floor of one of the hundred rooms we now have. I hear the dogs barking, but the sound is too far away from where I am. I bring my ear closer to the floor, hoping to catch a footstep, a back against the wall, any sound from you.

Nothing.

I close my eyes and whisper I love you, hoping this would crumble all the walls.

Unknown to me, a hundred stories above, you’ve been saying the exact, same thing over and over and over, like a mantra to the gods.


The space between the tears we cry
is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more
-The Space Between, Dave Matthews Band

‘Cause it’s you and me and all of the people with nothing to do
Nothing to lose
-Lifehouse, You and Me

The sky was filled with stars the night I said yes.  But there was this one that shone the brightest.  I went straight to my room the minute I got home, borrowed my little sister Arielle’s blue permanent marker, and wrote our names on our star.  Louise and Andrew.  Andrew and Louise.

“Will you love me?”  Andrew asked.
“Yes,” I said, my heart beating wildly, “yes, I will.”

I play this in my in mind over and over.  It’s been a week but I’m still feeling lighthearted.

***

He’d walk me home every night since then, and our star would shine a little brighter each time.  The glitter was not meant to last long as I found out months later.  Nothing lasts forever.  But you know me, being the overly romantic one, I found it hard to just let it lose its glow.  I know there are a lot of other stars out there and I can easily pick another one to be our next star.  Thing is, I don’t want another star, I want what we have right now. 

“Eto na po miss, metal polish. Maswerte po kayo, last na ito,” says Manong Magic Shop
“Manong, kailan po magkakaroon ng dagdag?  Dalawa sana bibilhin ko para may reserba.”
“Miss, wala na talaga eh.  Di ko alam kung kailan ulit magdedeliber iyung supplier namin ng ganito.”

So I pluck our star out of its cloud cushion and polish it.  “There,” I thought, “it’s twinkling again,” and put it back to its spot.

I feel giddy once more and stare at it the whole night.

***

Sometimes the dullness would creep in so quickly I’d have to clean our star after only weeks.  Most of the time though, it takes months.

“Hey darling, happy anniversary,” I say over the phone at the stroke of midnight.
“I love you,” Andrew says.

***

“Manong, wala na po ba talagang polish? I really need it, nagtanong na po ako sa iba, out of stock din.”
“Miss, pasensya na, wala talaga eh.”

***

I’m staring at the monitor.  I have been staring at it for an hour.  I can’t write. 

So I tell the boss, “Paolo, it’s late already, I go home alone now, remember?  Can I just give this to you tomorrow morning?” (But the truth is I just don’t want to think of anything anymore.  Just for tonight.)

“Sure, Louise,” he says, “take care.”

“Bye Paolo, Anthony, Homer,” I say before shutting the door as silently as I could, not wanting to wake the ghosts I see lying down on the floor of the hallway.  The dim light flickers with every step I take.

I find my way out of the HSc building, and follow the path I’ve walked through all these years.  I remember our starry night a thousand memories ago.  I look up at the sky and try to figure out where our star is.  I couldn’t see a damn thing.  Nothing but the vast darkness.

It’s all black to me now.