somebody loved

“So we finally got to eat pares,” he said while we paid for the food. We were in the middle of a crowded mall carrying our overnighters like a bunch of hillbilly backpackers. I looked at him, unsure of the anecdote he was hinting at. “Remember? Back in November. We were supposed to have breakfast here but we flaked.”

The memory resurfaced like a buoy set free underwater. He’d refused to meet me for weeks and then he suddenly invited me to grab a bite. A craving, he reasoned but at the last minute, plans fell apart. I thought for sure we’d never meet but yet there we were, months later about to enjoy our first bowl of pares together.

“I’ll go get us a table,” he offered, juggling his backpack and a tray of rice bowls and iced tea. As the cashier was handing me my change, a little lightbulb flashed in my head.

“Is this seat taken?” I asked in a voice that didn’t sound like my own. He looked up from the bench he was on and flashed me a smirk. I set my tray on the wooden table to offer a firm handshake.

“N,” I introduced. “And you are?”

“Z.” He smiled, I melted. We shook hands and went through the ritual of pares-eating. Anyone who was watching might have believed we were strangers who’d just met for the first time. In reality, we’ve been together for almost three months and I have loved him for close to six.

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It’s moments like this that I recall when I’m in bed, alone and missing him. I think of the way he stirred the burnt garlic crisps and sliced onion springs into his rice. I recall his untouched bowl of house soup and how he looked at me for approval as he sheepishly ordered a second helping of rice. And though we’ve eaten at a lot of nice places, it’s this quick fastfood trip we made that I’ll probably always remember. It was such a perfect image of who we are, of how uncomplicated things should be. There was nothing gourmet about the large chunks of beef bathing in broth. There were no spirits in the ₱15 iced tea they served in disposable cups. But still, I knew I had all I needed at that little table in the middle of a crowded mall with a man I pretended I’d just met.

There are times when I feel like I’m addicted to him. I crave the way he picks up the phone when I call him. I always long for the feeling of his head on my arm when we cuddle and watch TV. I love the sound of his laughter when I tell a joke or curse at the cartoons he watches. In the morning, I look forward to him showing me pictures he took of me sleeping. We glide through the previews and I see pictures of me, mouth ajar, legs bent at odd angles. In my head, I’m thinking ugly, ugly, ugleeeee but he’s telling me that I look funny, cute, and adorable. In less lucid moments of having just woken up, I actually believe him. I’d tell him about the wicked dreams that came the night before and he’d listen, without prejudice as though dreaming of dragons who steal your coffee was the most normal thing in the world. He’d tell me how I elbowed him in my sleep and I’d remark at how his snoring woke me up in the middle of the night. We’ve built a little routine around each other’s quirks and it’s things like this that I recall when I’m in bed, alone, still missing him badly.

It’s not perfect. Nothing is. We bicker like nine-year olds and we make up like them too. He tells me I smoke too much. I scold him when he refuses to abstain from the lechon’s fatty grip. We’ve hurt each other deeply with our words. We’ve both acted like jerks who didn’t care for each other. But then all I need to do is look into his big ol’ eyes and I remember how everything that happened in the past year only made sense when I met him. We were both disillusioned by love, both held shards of dreams we built with other people. And in the middle of all that rubble, he saw a broken boy and turned him into somebody loved. His heartbeat is my lullaby and if I close my eyes, I can almost hear the words.

Rain turns the sand into mud.
Wind turns the trees into bone.
Stars turning high up above.
You turn me into somebody loved

Nights when the heat had gone out.
We danced together alone.
Cold turned our breath into clouds.
We never said what we were dreaming of.
But you turned me into somebody loved

Someday when we're old and worn
Like two softened shoes,
I will wonder on how I was born
The night I first ran away from you.

Now my feet turn the corn
Sun turns the evening to rose.
Stars turning high up above.
You turn me into somebody loved.

I do not want to say I love you for we know not what the future betrays. Instead, I offer three simpler words: you are home.

♫: The Weepies | Somebody Loved (2003)