What If Only Then

What

We'd been friends since we were kids. I pulled her hair once. Once a day, that is. She'd cry sometimes. Most of the time she'd chase me. We were neighbors. I'd see her walk to school with her mother every day. I'd walk the other way to school so I don't have to listen to her talk. She annoyed me with her squeaky voice.

When we got older, things changed. We barely talked. Our family moved to another neighborhood, and I only saw her when she'd buy bread before going to her school. She sometimes walked with her friends. All girls. I figured she didn't have a boyfriend yet. I wanted to walk her home sometimes. I never did.

The last time I saw her, she was walking alone in the mall. I followed her for a while. People must have thought I was a stalker. She stopped and sat down on one of the outdoor benches. She was sad. She didn't see me. I didn't talk to her. I never saw her again.

If

If he wanted to talk, he could have approached me. If he still wanted to be friends, he could have said so. As it was, he never seemed to be interested, no matter our friendship in the past.

I saw him walk away. Why didn't he want to talk? I shouldn't be so annoyed. We haven't talked about anything for a long time. What made me think he'd want to talk now? I wanted him to talk to me. It doesn't matter now.

He has new friends now. He goes out with them, watching movies, playing computer, going to beaches. I sometimes see him jogging at the park with the rest of his group. I never look at him long enough to see if he would notice me. I just keep going my way.

One day, I decided to treat myself to dinner alone. I sat at a table near the back. he didn't see me. I guess he didn't. He was busy talking to his date. She was pretty, but I didn't stare. I focused my attention on my suddenly undesirable baby back ribs. As I walked out of the restaurant, I glanced back at them just long enough to see him reach for her hand.

Only

It's been years now. I lock the door to my apartment and start my way to work. I pass by a lady selling the daily newspaper. She smiled at me and asks me again if I've found that special lady I'd give my heart to. I sat her as she offers to take that position. We laugh because we both know she's only joking. She has a family somewhere. She wishes me good luck, adding that I might find the girl of my dreams today. She was right.

The girl of my dreams walked past me while I was having lunch. She walked fast, maybe she was late for an appointment. Maybe she was meeting someone. Maybe she just walked fast, the way she always did.

Only she wasn't alone. Her smile spread when she saw him. They didn't hug. Not her boyfriend, I thought. At least not yet. Only as I saw them talking, I saw the smile on both their faces. They were happy. they were obviously in love. I know because that's the smile she gave me once, the one that made me decide that I love her. Only she doesn't seem to know. Only I never told her. Only now it doesn't seem to matter. Only time can tell.

Then

Then he was there. He stood in front of me. He stood there and looked at me. He looked at me in a way I've never seen before. Not from him. there was something in his eyes, something different. I couldn't understand.

We were at the amusement park. I was with my friends. We were celebrating one of my best friends' engagement. They were riding the Ferris wheel. I chose to stay on the ground. Then I saw him.

He was standing beside the balloon stand. He must have seen me first because he didn't seem surprised. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't look sad. I contemplated walking over to him. I trashed that idea. I decided instead to just smile and wave. But he didn't see.

It was then that the girl, the pretty one from the restaurant, came toward him and dragged him off. I don't know if he looked back at me. I turned away. There was something breaking inside me. there was something I couldn't understand.

Then my friends brought me back to reality. Then I decided it didn't matter. Then I decided to let him go.

What if

What if she thought my cousin was my girlfriend?
What if he thought I was still with my old boyfriend?
What if she would never talk to me again?
What if he wouldn't let me explain?
What if I just told her before?
What if I just told him right then?

If only

If only I'd walked up to him at the amusement park. If only I had the courage to talk to him. If only I hadn't kept quiet all this time. If only I stared at them at the restaurant. If only I had at least passed by them to say hi. If only I'd looked up before he walked away at the mall. If only I'd walked after him. If only he didn't leave their old house. If only he'd walked up to me and talked. If only I told him how I really felt.

If only I could change everything. If only I could do the things I never did. If only I could walk up to her and hug her, tell her that I loved her. If only I could take her away from the world we made for ourselves to the world we made up for ourselves. If only I could spend my life with her, the way I've always dreamed. If only I could know that she loves me too.

Only then

Maybe only then will our lives start to make sense. maybe only then will our hearts stop hurting. maybe only then can we understand why all these things happened.

Only then would things matter. Only then would we go back to the way things were before. Only then could we be friends. Only then could the possibility of us being more than friends happen. Only then, after everything, could we finally throw away all the pretenses and just be honest about how we feel, about how all these years, after all these years, we loved each other. Only then.

What if only then, after everything, would she know that I love her?
What if only then, after everything, would he find out that I love him?

What if only then would never come?
What if only then?

To Be Distant

is to be there but be miles away
   to stay in the same room but not with each other
   to speak words that will not be heard
   to contribute but feel empty
   to be part of something you're really not
   to think that things will be better than what it is
   to rely on one's self for most everything
   to accept the reality of being alone
   to deny the fact that life is an adventure
   to long for something that can never be yours
   to long for someone who once was
   to smile at the memory of a past long gone
   to cry at the silence that engulfs the present
   to stay standing on opposite corners of the world
   to stay together on opposite corners of the heart
   to be the one who walks away
   to be the one who hurts the most
   to be the one who still holds on
   to experience the beauty and wonder of the world but share it with no one
   to see things in a way that only you can appreciate
   to never see things the way others see
   to stand in the middle of a crowd and wish to be with only one
   to wait for the one who couldn't wait for you
   to lavish love on people who will never understand
   to love without truly speaking, showing, pushing, pursuing
To be distant is to be the person who stands right where he's supposed to be but remain emotionally unattached to the world.
To be distant is to be a balloon caught in the wind, the tethered string broken, now floating away. Far, far away.

When She Said Yes

Yes. A three-letter word that can carry the weight off a person's shoulders. A tiny word that can change lives and create futures. The sweetest word to the ears of lovers longing for acceptance. Yes.

Out of all the yeses I've heard from her, there are three that stand out.

The first time she said yes wasn't even a good thing for me.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

We were in a fast-food store. She was alone at a table. All the other tables were full. I approached her.

It wasn't even a yes, really. She just sort of smiled and nodded.

"Sorry," she said.

I turned and spilled my Coke all over the floor. The people around started staring and moving away from the spillage.

Quick, say something cool to cover up how embarrassing this is, I thought.

"Gravity." She said it so casually, I wondered if she was mocking me or just stating an obvious fact.

"Yeah. Newton was right."

The store staff started mopping my mess. I spotted an empty table and made my way toward it.

She went back to whatever she was doing. I never saw anyone sit on the empty seat in front of her.

***

Her second special yes happened so quickly, I don't even think she realized what she just said.

She was at her friend's house. They were doing a surprise project for another friend. I just got off work and had nowhere to go. I knew she was busy and I couldn't see her that day, but I still called.

"Hello. Just got off work?" she asked. I heard her open a door, probably moving into a more quiet room.

"Yeah. How's the project going along? Did you find the rubber tacks at the bookstore?"

"No, the salesperson said they ran out. We're improvising. They're making something out of glue and something else right now."

"Hmm . . . need help?"

"Uhh . . . not really. It's a girls' activity. Plus, we wouldn't want to bore you with our girly girl issues." She was using her annoying valley girl accent. I loved it.

"Well, yeah, you've got a point. I just . . ."

"Hey, who're you talking to? We need you upstairs." I heard one of her friends on the other line. "Oh, is that your boyfriend?"

"Yes! I'm talking to my boyfriend. Now go. I'll be right up after this." I could hear the smile in her voice and the teasing of her friends. "Hello? You still there?"

It wasn't much of a yes, I admit. It was the first time I heard her say it out loud to her friends, though.

I could hardly stop smiling. The people on the street must have thought I'd gone crazy. Maybe I had.

"Hello? Are you there?"

"Yes, your boyfriend is here."

***

"Do you still love me?"

We'd just completed one year of married life, and we were experiencing the tension. The honeymoon season had gone, and everything about being a couple started feeling more like an obligation, a duty I didn't enjoy doing.

We were renting a house. There were bills to pay. Our work schedules were changing from time to time. We couldn't stay put for a moment. We never went on dates anymore. We never talked heart to heart the way we used to. There was never time. Not until now.

"Do you still love me?"

It was a Wednesday night, and everything just fell apart. It was a mess. I made a mess. "Gravity," I heard her voice in my head. Gravity that pulled us down, drowning us, drowning me.

She waited for me. She waited at the lobby like she always did, like she was supposed to. And I was driving away from her, driving with someone else in the passenger seat, driving like I wasn't supposed to.

I got home that night to a dark house and went to sleep beside a broken heart.

"Do you still love me?"

She sank to the floor in tears that day I told her. She felt helpless. She felt betrayed. Then she told me.

"I saved it for you. The seat. I saved it after that day. Because I thought it'd be nice to be your friend. Because I thought you were different. I saved it every single time."

And we were there again. At the fast-food store, Coke all over the floor. I sat a ways from her. Her own Coke now only a cup of ice, my wet food staring at me from my table.

Suddenly she was there. She introduced herself. She said sorry again for making me spill my Coke, as if it were her fault. She started talking, and though I did find it weird, I couldn't help but listen to her. I don't remember most of what she said that day, but I remember how she said it. There was life in her. There was vibrancy spilling out of her every word, every gesture. Her smile, the way she would pause and try to remember something as I guessed what she wanted to say, the ease in the conversation. That was when I said yes. Yes to this girl who blames gravity. Yes to a life committed to loving only her.

In time she would tell me she loved me too, that she'd marry me. In time she explained why she did what she did that day at the fast-food store. She said yes to my friendship, yes to my love, yes to a lifetime with me. Yes. For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to say yes---to someone who just broke her heart.

"Do you still love me?"

She sat there, watching the sunset. She sat there, alone. She was older now. There were streaks of white in her hair, caught by the sun and reflected like glitters in the air. I walked up to her. She saw me and smiled. I sat with her. We spent that moment together. And it was then, after all those years, I figured it out.

Yes to love is not a free pass. It needs to be worked on and cultivated. It needs to be taken care of and valued. It means not taking advantage. It means sticking to one's promises, one's commitments. Love means action. Love makes decisions. Love needs forgiveness.

As we sat there, her hand in mine, I felt the ring that symbolized our promise to each other. A promise that needs guarding. We sat there and I asked her.

"Do you still love me?"

And every time she says it, I know that I'm saved. I'm saved by gravity. I'm saved by her openness and her acceptance of me. I'm saved by her forgiveness. I'm saved by a three-letter word that means everything to me.

"Yes."

Yes, I will always do.