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cooljovialjupiter · 4 years ago

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THE CONFESSION

Guinevere could hardly sleep that night. Her mind is full of unwanted thoughts for the morrow. A sudden pang of dread and excitement twisted inside her at the mere vision of it: she, finally confiding her feelings to Lance. She could only think of his reaction. Will he be happy hearing it? Will she accept her? What if he rejects her? What if he shuns her off? The overwhelming possibilities of either success or failure have made her restless above her bed. One moment, she was staring blankly at her ceiling, the next, she was facing her coffee table beside her bed thoughtlessly, a dimly-lit lamp laying above it. Neither positions had helped her ebb away what she was feeling, if anything the mobility made her more uneasy.

Who wouldn’t? A woman professing her love to a man has been a taboo topic and is still being regarded as such especially among conservative families. Men are ought to be the ones making the first move.

‘Nonsense’, her mind retaliated. ‘It’s 21st century now’, it reasoned. ‘Women can almost do anything what a man can do’, it went on. ‘And didn’t you reckon Lance feel something for you?’ her mind asked.

That’s true, she considered. Her instinct told her so. There have been circumstances where her hunches were confirmed, of course, at least for her. More often than not did she catch Lance glancing her way and stammered every time he speaks. And hardly in those times can he maintain eye contact with her. Lance has quite an expressive face for a man that anything he is uncomfortable of saying shows in his face. And although trying to appear oblivious about it, deep inside Guinevere, she knows her emotions are one tickle away to being unleashed and she’ll be all over him.

And to top all that, Lance has quite the temper when Derek, her suitor, visits her in their classroom. One time at it, his brows furrowed and his lips were pressed in a thin line as Derek gave her sandwich and a bottled water for snack. It was such a delight watching Lance in such a bad mood that she intentionally purred her voice as he mouthed thank you to Derek. This has earned her a chuckle from Derek’s. Derek is a muscly guy with a very chiseled and fine-looking face, but even then, he seems very goofy for a quarterback player. Lance, however, did not think it was necessary purring like that, said it was uncalled for and un-ladylike. But this, he said, after Derek was out of earshot. It excited her mind that Lance’s been behaving that way because he somehow felt something about her. And the thought roused her more than the idea that she’s got a suitor for the first time.

At the back of her mind, another voice had swarmed in, ‘You still got time to back out,’ it said in utmost contradiction. ‘He just doesn’t see you that way but a friend. You’re only like a sister she’s never had, that’s why he’s overprotective over you considering Derek’s reputation,’ it said shrilly, putting an end to the stretch of smile she just wore. The more she thinks of it, the more intense whatever building inside her makes her feel that she feels as though wetting in her nightgown.

She shook her head for the nth time now, hoping she could get a better grip of herself as to what to do. She is torn. Both choices are heaving terrible prices. If she really does confess and Lance rejects her, their friendship will crumble for sure and it will never be the same way again. If she stays zipped about her feelings, she will drown in the possibility that Lance will get a girl one of these days and she could only fake a smile because she will be stripped off of her right completely to have a say on anything about him as she’s only his ‘friend’. And she couldn’t point out which way is more terrible.

‘You’ll never know if you won’t try,’ urged the former voice inside her.

‘You can wallow in regret after he rejects you’, said the latter sardonically.

‘If only I could get a sign’, she sighed to herself. ‘Any sign’, she closed her eyes, draped her blankets over her shoulders until such time that her head is the only thing that lay visible on the bed in the view overhead. Her body under the wooly blanket.

The wall clock that stayed hung on the wall across her room above her vanity table says it’s already 10pm. This is one of the nights she stayed up late thinking. With a heavy sigh, she made up her mind, it’s tomorrow or never.

After what seemed a minute that she dozed off, a vibrating noise awoke her. Eyes closed, she tried reaching for her phone which lay pounding above her bedside table and mistakenly slid her thumb across the screen like she usually does when she snoozes her alarm. Not until he heard a voice.

“Gin, you up?”

“Gin?”

She thinks she heard the voice wrong. It sounded a lot like Lance’s. ‘I must be dreaming,’ she thought.

“Guinevere, pick up your phone!” Of course, it is Lance. What other voice can make her heart go ecstatic other than him.

Her eyes opened abruptly as it dawned on her. What the hell?!

“Did I awake you?” Lance said after she held her phone upward that her ceiling is the only thing visible on Lance’s end.

Why videocall at this hour? She thought. Is this the sign she has been waiting?

Did the universe finally concede defeat and conspired with her plan to confess? Or was it merely coincidence?

No, no… Lance wasn’t the type to do such calling, video-calling on top of that. He rarely even texts. This must be a pressing matter, she thought inwardly.

“I’m sorry. I’ll just drop this,” the other line said after hearing not a single syllable from her.

“No…no,” she snapped and hastily spit the words. “I’m just groggy from sleep. What’s up? Is something the matter?” she uttered hardly; excitement barely concealed. She finally faced her screen and got awed how dashing Lance looked even in his pyjamas. His hair unkempt. Eyes looking very troubled as it wandered in places as though looking at her is sin in itself, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

Only then did she notice why he can’t seem to focus his eyes on her and a tinge of pink crawled over her cheeks. How embarrassing, she mentally chided in. She quickly hid her soul under her blanket and pretended to look at him unabashed.

“Nothing… it’s just that…” he paused. The next words almost inaudible. “I’ve done a lot of thinking these days.”

You do? Well, I coincidentally do too.

“O…kay?” She feigned surprise as she clutched her hands on her bed sheet.

She felt frivolous because she sensed as though a confession is waiting to happen. Such anticipation is killing her. “And?”

“Will you be free tomorrow?” Right after these words were spitten did the stretch of her lips break unknowingly into a smile.

“I have something to tell you,” he said after so much contemplation. His expression looked as though a load has been lifted off his shoulder.

“Can’t you tell me here instead?” she tried nonchalantly. This guy, she thought, is he seriously adamant in keeping me awake all night? I can’t possibly sleep after the prelude of his confession, can I? she smiled giddily.

‘This is way much better than the sign I asked for, I really thank the heavens!’ she shouted in her head and imagined as though kowtowing in her altar for a hundred times and even then, it won’t be enough. She’s just so happy.

“I can’t say it over the phone,” he said determined.

“Shame,” she smiled.

She opted to keep her mum about what she has to say tomorrow either. It won’t be of use anymore if Lance himself confesses to her first.

“Quadrangle, 11am. I’ll wait for you.” Lance said in farewell.

Her smile stretched wider when Lance got up from his bed and dropped his phone on his carpet. She figured the phone fell because the screen completely went from still to unfathomable before it got picked and the screen went completely dark as though a palm has covered the camera.

A startled voice rang on the end of the line before she heard him whisper, “Did it get disconnected?”

“Obviously not! I’m still here, aren’t I?” Guinevere wittily said as though it was meant for her.

“Oh… Okay. I’ll drop it now. You better get sleep.”

As if, she thought. Silly Lance!

She barely got decent sleep that night. Her mind has zoned out to what would happen the next day. How she would willingly say yes when the most anticipated question is asked. And how she would jump in pure ecstasy to embrace him while he spun her round and round with not either of them getting dizzy. How he would brag to the whole campus how lucky he was to be with someone like her and how she would then respond with a demure yet pretty laugh. How he would swoon for her seeing her laugh… and the endless versions of this story she has quite formulated in her head. None of it seeming impossible which made her even more excited.

The minutes in that particular gloomy morning went by in a blur. She barely even noticed how Derek seemed to have forgotten to bring her snacks when the recess came which she had grown accustomed to already.

Well, in no time… it would be Lance bringing her the snacks she desired and she smiled inwardly again at the thought.

At exactly 10:45, their class ended. The pelting rain started to downpour outside as well. The weather was crazy… so was she. But it didn’t make her back down one bit.

She fumbled at her umbrella in her bag, opened it, picked and swung her jacket overhead and proceeded to go to the quadrangle. Five minutes before eleven and her knees started to wobble like Jell-O against the pitter-pattering rain. Not because of the cold whatsoever but because of the build-up anticipation from that night and the events that will happen onwards. Her heart started hammering like crazy against her ribcage and proceeded to hit it gently with her fist as though calming it.

When she reached the side of the quadrangle where a shed has been made available for students to sit and watch the vast soccer field, she immediately felt nervous. This was where she and Lance had agreed to meet and coincidentally so, someone had already taken a seat. This person’s back is facing hers. Even with the jacket, she could tell who it was. This person has a sporty build and the more she gets closer, the more it gets clearer to her.

She perfunctorily coughed the anxiety aside before blurting, “What are you doing here?”

The person was startled but quickly recomposed himself and when he faced her, Derek’s awkward smile was replaced with a goofy grin.

He motioned her to sit beside him, but she was flabbergasted. What if Lance arrives? Her expression was complicated. He hates Derek. What if he gets the wrong idea? I cannot let that happen, she mentally scolded herself.

“Scram, Derek… I’m waiting for someone,” she rudely said.

As if struck weird, he just stared at her and smiled. Eyes calculatingly calm, he said.

“I’m waiting for someone too—”

“I didn’t tell you to wait here for me—”

“He’s here.”

“What?” She asked incredulously.

Guinevere was speechless. Lance has just arrived; his locks sodden and his uniform drenched wet.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Lance. I didn’t tell him to come here.”

“I know.” His eyes were guarded as though afraid he was treading on someone’s toes. “I told him to come.”

“W-what? I don’t understand.” Her head is in complete shambles. “It’s not him that I like, why are you pushing me to him? I thought you hate it,” she hardly spat, teary-eyed.

Guinevere was panicking. None of which that had happened now was in her bubbles of imagination earlier. Someone has messed with the order of the events and it’s making her utterly frustrated.

“I do hate it. Because… I like him.” Lance’s hands then find its way into Derek’s. Then there was deafening silence.

Guinevere’s jaw dropped from the confession. Her umbrella fell from her hold. Then, there were expressions of shouting before her. One she was all too familiar since she was a toddler.

The beam supporting the roof collapsed and for some reason, a gush of water seeped through her jacket drenching her cold before falling into the abyss… of her bed. She landed with a thud. Her mother was standing at the foot of her bed, in her hand a glass of cold water emptied into her face.

Before she even had the time to snap, she caught sight of the clock hung above her vanity table and it reads 12pm.

All events are fictitious and are used fictitiously.

This was supposed to be posted March last year. Halfway through the construction, I lost the will to continue writing and thought it would remain in my pc and will soon be put in the bin. But hey, I made it through. While browsing which documents to delete, I came across this 2-page draft and straight up finished while awaiting sleep. Thank you for reading!

#fiction #freestyle #writing

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cooljovialjupiter · 5 years ago

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The Girl Who Can't Go Home

That particular afternoon was raining. The window panes breathed mist blurring the view outside and a loud thunder could be heard minute by minute. Mud splattered across the painted brick walls from the heavy rain. It was one of those rare times that we, the students, were looking past outside the windows wondering when we are allowed to go home. Our teacher, who was also glancing outside, had stopped earlier in his discussion while awaiting the directive of our principal. I reckoned it was the typhoon from yesterday’s weather broadcast that was brewing outside that day. Heavy rainfall has started since that morning and I bet the rainwater had now begun gushing from the canal all over the sides of the pavement.

We were just listening to the pelting whips and whaps of the furious wind towards the trees that danced blurrily above the ground through the windows. Everytime a lightning struck, silence befell upon our lips and our hands quickly to cover our ears for the loud and echoing thunder that followed suit. The whole class was rather silent, observing keenly the weather outside. You could make out some faces etched with worry. Some were busy tapping their phones in frenzy like their lives have depended on it. Some were almost bawling their eyes out with the fear of possibly being stranded overnight in school and a million scenarios you couldn’t help but overthink.

I never peg myself to be a keenly observer. But that particular time, I was, and maybe the weather has urged me on. I noticed this girl from the same class at the back row. I never noticed her before, which was odd. Or maybe I was, I don’t know. Her head was carefully side-positioned above her folded arms which lay right on her desk. She was sleeping. She looked so peaceful amid the chaotic weather outside and the bothersome faces of my classmates.

The long silence stretched on as seconds ticked by and the palpable concern to get home has only increased tenfold. As though hearing our silent plights, the intercom spoke our principal’s voice mouthing the very words we wanted to hear. Everybody got up to their seats and immediately swung their backpacks around and through the door they went thronging among themselves. I stayed behind not wanting to get into a possible stampede. Our teacher scurried his way to the door as well in longer strides. Left alone by the door, I decided to just turn off the lights before I go. But my hands got suspended when I noticed a figure still slouching in her desk in the far corner of the room.

That girl! I thought. Did she have no friends? Why did nobody bother to wake her up? I thought.

I had no choice. If it hadn’t been raining outside, I’d never EVER walk towards her to wake her up. It’s particularly hard getting a ride outside going home with this kind of weather, so I’m basically doing her a favor.

I stood behind her watching the corners of her mouth heaved in a faint snore. I shook her shoulders lightly, “Miss,” I said. “Manguli na.” She only blabbered some incoherent words at first as though indirectly telling me to go away. I shook her again, this time with a bit of force until her eyelids slowly opened and blinked, closed, opened and blinked again. After realizing what had just happened, she sat upright the back of her hand wiping the invisible drool on the corners of her mouth. She stood and straightened the crease on her faded blue blouse down to her dark blue skirt. Her head panned from left to right like she had been wondering where the others went. She begun stuffing her things inside her bag in haste.

“Asa na man sila?” She finally wondered out loud. Now that she’s awake, my work is done and I can go home peacefully. I walked through the door and rummaged my bag at the side pocket for the foldable umbrella that has always been with me. The rain still hadn’t stopped completely so it really did come in handy.

The long pathway from outside our building stretching to the next and unto the exit of the gate was exceptionally slippery with thick green mosses scattered across the elevated pavement. And just as I suspected, the rainwater has almost caught up with the elevation.

“Shit wala ko’y payong,” I heard a voice from behind. “Pasunua ko ha taman lang sa gate,” she said almost confidently as though I’d let her. Before I could say no, she already swung her arm around my left shoulder as I held the umbrella in my right hand, pulling me awkwardly close to her side. I looked at her incredulously but said nothing. She puckered her lips at the sight ahead of us. Afterwards, the corners of her mouth stretched into a small smile. Silence then ensued between me and her as we walked side by side towards the exit of the gate, the pelting raindrops against my umbrella as the only background. I just don’t know what to say. And I reckon that was the longest walk of my life.

The guard opened the gate and smiled faintly at me. “Salamat. Uli sa me ya.” I told him sincerely.His smile faded and his eyes squinted curiously at my direction. His next words hit me like a thunderbolt, “Unsay me, naa ba day kay kauban?”

After a while that I have been dumbstruck, he went on, “Gisabayan ka ni Lala?” he joked in half disbelief and bewilderment.

That seemed to have waked me up in a trance.

Lala was and is still an infamous name. Of course, I knew her. Everyone did. But never did I know how she looked like.When I glanced back beside myself, the beautiful girl was gone. All I see is a faint white figure donned in faded blue blouse and dark blue skirt which, the longer I observed, looked as though drenched in a faintest hue of red. She looked grotesque, one eye almost falling out of its socket. Her head disfigured and her hands clutched at her heart. She smiled and mouthed ‘thank you’ before she disappeared into the thick fog just across the cemented highway.

Two years ago, a senior student named Lala and her classmate met an untoward accident just across the school gate. The weather was as bad as today’s weather. Just as they were about to cross, they did not notice a car speeding up their way concealed by haze and fog from that afternoon’s endless rain. Her classmate was thrown with quite a force while Lala was runovered beneath the screeching tires, her head almost unrecognizable from the sudden impact. She ended up with several broken ribs, one eventually punctured her heart. Lala did not survive.

Until now, she still shares umbrella with any random student towards the gate during rainy days, hoping she could get home dry, safe, and ALIVE.

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All events in the story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people and places is purely coincidental.

#lala #rainyday #caraccident #ghost #creepy #umbrellagirl

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