Terminal

Note: Bloody in many parts - Part 1

I felt relieved to have spotted this FX taxi immediately after I crossed the busiest street on the planet. It was very rare that I chance upon one on a Sunday. Usually, I had to take a jeepney to reach the rotunda and another ride that would take me to the mall. You can just imagine how grateful I was to have spared a calorie from burning. The vehicle, a blue-violet Mitsubishi Adventure, looked new and clean from the outside. I took the vacant front seat and sat still while the air condition blew winter on my face.

Surprisingly, the driver beside me wasn't that bad looking either. He didn't smell the combination of gas, grease and putok. There was no sticky feel every time his arm would brush against mine. I could tell he never missed a bath in his life and knew how to take care of himself. At his age (mid to late 30’s), he was lean and looked younger than most 30-something guys I knew. He was also very courteous to his passengers. When we stopped by the gas station to refuel, he gave few pesos to those kids singing him Christmas carols. He smiled at me when he got back to his seat and gave me my change.

Suddenly, the world around me began to swirl.

I liked the sound of his voice. It was cool and kind, the type you would want to hear before and after bedtime. There was no hint of jologs tone in it. I had learned about his name "Blademir" from that ID on the dashboard. It sort of inspired me to coin an appropriate nickname for him. (“Bloody” or “Bladi”, you bloody choose. Before you readers bloody bash his name, the guy owns and operates the unit.)

All of these quick observations were made while I was busy texting two people. I was smiling not because those two people texting me were funny. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him stealing glances at me the way an Edward Cullen would in real life. When we reached the destination, he whispered “Ingat.”

There was the "kilig" feeling I swear I never had for ages.

I couldn't get him out of my head the whole time I was inside the church. He was this invisible presence that disturbed me all through out, like a poltergeist messing up my brains. There was something about him that attracted me like magnet. Perhaps it was his scent, the car perfume or his voice that got stuck inside my head. I was not so sure what it was that hit me hard.

After church, I went to buy stuff at the mall to distract myself from this confusing possession. It was almost 9 p.m. when I went to the terminal to catch the last trip back home. To my surprise, the familiar blue-violet Adventure was parked at the front line waiting for passengers. That same driver I nicknamed "Bloody" appeared from nowhere. He was all smiles when he saw me and let out a surprised “Hi. It’s you again. How was your shopping?”

I couldn’t remember the exact lines I told him when I took the seat beside him. Everything went dark then light and muddled in between. But every pore in my skin was screaming "Destiny!"

We were quiet the whole time he was driving. I couldn’t think of a good conversation filler to break the silence. If I did, I would have probably squeaked my lines all through out and that was the kind of embarrassment I was not prepared to make. So I feigned sleep to discourage any conversation that could lead us off to topics I might not be able to answer anyway, given my current state of mind.

I was the last person he still had to take to the last stop. After his passengers left, he started asking me questions. Silly questions like how my day went and something about those Christmas shoppers emptying their wallets at the mall. He asked about my husband and looked surprised to find I do not have one even figuratively. It was a very short conversation that lasted 5 minutes. When we reached the final stop, I bid him goodbye and I heard him say “ingat” in a quiet manner. I took off immediately without even looking him in the eye, asking his name or telling him mine. I was afraid my eyes would give myself away.

This story rehearsed itself inside my head as I took the long walk from the village gate to the house. I was not sure if I would still see him on the same time and place tomorrow or next Sunday. But I had this feeling that we would soon.

He'd be there waiting.