Strings of Fate

Kung ang utak ko ay isang classroom, siguro suspended na ako ngayon dahil sa kakasigaw sa loob.

As in, literal na parang may teacher na galit na galit sa estudyanteng hindi marunong mag-behave. Pero ako rin 'yung estudyante. Ako rin 'yung pasaway. Ako rin 'yung gumagawa ng gulo.

"Solene."

Hindi ko alam kung ano'ng mas nakakabaliw: 'yung tinawag niya ako sa second name ko—na hindi ko naman ginagamit unless sa official school records—or 'yung fact na he remembered it. Hindi ko pa nga siya binibigyan ng chance na makilala ako ng buo, pero somehow, he found a way.

RHYLER DAVIDS:
Nevermind. Ask again when we’re closer.

Putangina talaga. Sino 'to? Lovechild nina Mr. Mysterious tsaka Mr. Mind Games?

Bumangon ako mula sa kama ko kahit wala pa akong tulog ng maayos. Naglakad ako papuntang kusina, nakasando at pajama shorts, sabog ang buhok, parang contestant sa "Pinoy Big Brother: Pagod na Season."

Ate Aira: "Uy Eli, may kape na rito."

Ako: "Thanks. Kailangan ko ng panlaban sa... reality."

Ate Kaye: "May nangyari nanaman sa Instagram?"

I swear, these sisters of mine.

Wala akong sinagot. Uminom lang ako ng kape habang nakatitig sa laminadong mesa na may gasgas pa ng panahon. Sa utak ko? Flashbacks. Of that one message. Of that one word:

"Solene."

TANGINA. NAKAKAINIS. BAKIT BA ANG LAMBOT NG TUNOG PAG SIYA ANG NAGSABI?

I shook my head and went back to my room. Dapat nagrereview ako for Bio. Pero guess what? Ako 'yung type ng taong kapag may isang bagay na gumugulo sa utak niya, parang corrupt file lahat ng iba. I couldn’t focus.

So I did the most academic, most logical thing any top student would do.

I opened our chat thread again.

And backread. Like an addict. Like a clown.

YOU:
Depende. Bakit?

RHYLER DAVIDS:
Tinitingnan ko lang if mabilis ka matuto... o kelangan mo pa ng tutor.

Still illegal. Still a violation of the Solene Republic's Emotional Constitution.

But it didn’t stop there. Kasi the more I reread, the more I noticed...

He remembers.

Yung maliit na things. Like how I avoid emojis. How I like dry, short replies. How I leave messages on seen pag wala akong energy.

But then he mirrors me. Konti lang. Enough na hindi ko mapansin agad. But it's there.

Like this one message:

RHYLER DAVIDS:
Anong favorite mong word lately?

That’s not a normal question. That’s a question someone asks when they pay attention to how you speak.

And what do I do?

I brush it off.

YOU:
Wala. Ikaw?

But he drops it. Like a bomb.

RHYLER DAVIDS:
Solene.

And now I can’t stop thinking about it.

Sa sobrang inis ko sa sarili ko, naglinis na lang ako ng buong kwarto. Literal. Dinampian ko ng basahan 'yung sahig. Nagwalis. Nagpunas ng bookshelf. Pati 'yung notes ko sa ilalim ng kama, kinuha ko at inayos.

At habang ginagawa ko 'yon, may napulot akong lumang notebook.

Grade 9 pa ata 'to. May doodles pa ng molecules and enzymes. Pero ang mas nakatawag ng pansin ko? 'Yung isang page na may nakasulat na:

"Dream School: UP. Goal: Doctor. Never trust boys. Focus, Solene."

Napangiti ako. Tangina. Even back then, alam ko na. May foresight na ako. May battle plan. Pero bakit ngayon... natitinag ako sa isang engineering heir na may generational wealth at K-pop level ng tahimik na appeal?

Reality check: My dad is a tricycle driver. My mom is a housewife. I grew up sharing one room with two sisters, studying under yellow light habang may karaoke sa kapitbahay. I drink 3-in-1 coffee na minsan may amoy plastic. I fold the laundry while memorizing the periodic table.

I am not the type of girl na mapapansin ng isang Rhyler Davids.

And yet.

Here we are.

Typing...
Deleted.

Typing...

RHYLER DAVIDS: Do you forget things easily?

YOU: Depende. Bakit nanaman?

RHYLER DAVIDS:
Wala. Curious lang. About the way you remember things.

YOU:
Random mo talaga.

RHYLER DAVIDS:
Baka lang kasi... you remember things that matter. Or people.

HINDE. HINDI AKO PAPATOL.

YOU:
May amnesia ka ba? May kailangan ba akong tandaan para sa'yo?

RHYLER DAVIDS:
Wala pa. Pero baka dumating 'yung time.

Tangina.

I threw my phone again.
Then picked it up.
Then stared at it.
Then screamed into my pillow.

Because somehow, he knows how to trigger thoughts in me na hindi ko na sana babalikan pa.

The way I remember things?
I remember things in color.
I remember people in fragments.
I remember pain in silence.

And for some reason... I’m starting to remember him.

No label.
No clear reason.
No definition.

Just his name.
His words.
His timing.

And the way he says...

Solene.