(A Short Story)
The strains of 'Bali Hai' come floating from my car radio as I drive home, and I am seeing you again as you were that last night - seeing you as you whistled that very same tune - seeing you as you sat moodily studying the patterns on the door while the smoke from your cigarette circled upward over your slightly bowed head. My right hand seeks the pendant hanging from the chain you placed around my neck. "Whenever you wear this, think of me."
It was my Uncle Ray who brought you home with him one summer afternoon - on one of his yearly visits from the South. My first sight of you was when you were coming up the house, an insinuation of a smile playing on the right corner of your mouth. I barely heard your name when Uncle made the introductions because then, my heart was strangely beating so. The ghost of a smile which really began in your grayish-black eyes had now taken real form. All in that moment, I tried to size you up from your slightly wavy hair, sparkling eyes, smile-curved mouth, down to the tips of your dark brown shoes. And then Uncle was speaking again over the din that was now inside of me. "You would hardly think he is an honest -to-goodness lawyer, no? But Fred is all of 27, though - my good-looking associate"! And your smile continued to weave its spell over me and I experienced a sensation which prompted me to hold on to something lest I fell.
I could never reconstruct those minutes you spent at home that first evening. To say that I lost my head would be a hopeless understatement. All too suddenly, I was seized by that undefinable emotion characteristic only of persons bitten by some kind of unearthly bug. It was something beyond analysis - beyond explanation- something to which I had never been subject before. And I asked myself, why him?
And then that night, you did not allow me to sleep. Always when I tried closing my eyes, your image would be spotlighted in my mind - the slow easy grin coming from the right corner of your mouth - your watchful eyes, taking note of my every move, my every gesture, every titling of my head sideways before I speak. Not even a sad shadow of my peace of mind I had always prided myself in having remained now.
The next day during lunch, I couldn't help looking anxiously towards you every time I sensed you might need something and precisely at those moments I caught you looking at me in a meditative way, almost as if you were trying to ask yourself questions about me - questions which I am now sure you couldn't have gotten the right answers of.
But it was after dinner that same day when you came over to where I sat. As you stood in front of me, your left hand fumbling with something in your shirt pocket and your right hand holding the characteristic cigarette, I held my breath. You asked me about school, my interests, the friends I keep, my preferences, and so on and so forth. You talked about yourself too, about the places you had gone to, the people you met. And then you told me you like my eyes and that you'd give anything to be able to study them and find out the secrets they hold. When I jokingly asked what thing you would give for example, you fervently answered, "My heart, and if that doesn't suffice, my soul." I told you you would be getting the shorter end of the bargain but you said you didn't think so. You flicked your cigarette butt away . Then you brought out from your pocket a chain with a pendant engraved on it one of the lovely sights of Bali. I'm sure you knew that my family were not locals of the island. "Let me give this to you," you half-whispered as your eyes intently searched mine .... and your hands ever so gentle on my neck.
That morning you were leaving, you asked me if I would think of you now and then after you leave. Your gray-black eyes were really boring through my soul now as I stood in front of you fidgeting. You repeated your question urgently but I couldn't answer you anymore because Uncle had come to check on you if you had all your luggage in the car. Then did my heart furiously answer you, "How could you have asked such a question? You know fully well every moment of life from here on shall be spent in thinking of you - the way you smile, the way you hold your cigarette, the way you always looked at me from the corners of your eyes - the thousand and one different things about you!" And then I felt your hand clasp mine - tightly, almost desperately, and your low whisper meant for my ears alone, " This must not be good-bye." You turned to the rest of the family and shook hands with all of them while I just stood there where you left me, devoid of sensation now, almost as if I were looking at the whole thing from a seat in a crowded theater.
But that was 13 years ago.... when I was only 14. I don't live in the island anymore. And neither do you. But somehow through the years as I continued to treasure those time-constrained memories of you, we managed to stay in touch. If only to say Hi! during the holidays, and for you to greet me consistently on my birthday, we managed to stay in touch. But it was just that. We never asked anything about each other - nothing! It was just plain and simple staying in touch. I only got to know of the places around the world where your work takes you from the postcards you sent. So that today, as you take possession of my sensibilities just like that, I haven't the slightest idea of how you look like now or if you're already married and with a family or if whatever else! I don't even have the slightest idea of why I am thinking of you now! Out of time and space, you're just suddenly there again. And again I ask myself, why now?
Now I have reached home. And as I check mail before I get in, I single out an envelope for me post marked from Bali. Now I stare at this old familiar handwriting. You have returned to the island?! My hands shake as I open it up to find a round-trip plane ticket to Bali -and an invitation from you to a dinner for two at the Ku De Ta! Once again you make me hold my breath. Once again you leave me devoid of sensation. Once again you hold my heart and my mind on a delicate balance and I as myself, why me?
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