this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on February 12, 2000.
I had my palm read last night by the guy I’ve been seeing for a little over a month and whom I have known for about two. It was . . . interesting. I close my eyes, and I still can see him looking sideways at me, a smile playing on his lips as we wait for the light to change so we can finally turn. Gosh, he has the most perfect pair of eyes (sometimes I’ve found myself feeling like I was actually drowning in them). Cliche-ish, I know, but true. And his nose? Aquiline. And he has the most kissable-looking lips too (sighs). I sound like I’m smitten, don’t I? Maybe I am. I can’t say for sure. And if truth be told, I don’t think I want to know. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a perfectly decent guy, one of the few true gentlemen left, I think. And I’m not saying this because I’m going out with him; I’m saying this because I find it to be true. He is as beautiful inside as he is outside, and I feel as if I’ve known him for years. I remember a conversation we once had in which we reached the general conclusion that we didn’t know where this (referring to whatever it was that we had going) was going, but that we both liked the way things were, and that we were both looking forward to what was farther down the road.
I am, I truly am, but oftentimes I try not to think about the future too much. The reason for this is that I seem to have a gift for entering into impossible relationships. A dramatic statement, I know, but it has been proven true time and again. While whatever this is has the makings of something truly wonderful, it has ”impossible relationship” written all over it as well. For you see, he is of another race, another culture and of a totally different religion as well. It was the last detail that first gave me pause. It will, at some point, have to be discussed at length. I admit that I have no great claims to spirituality, but the way I see it, the issue of religion may be a possible bone of contention if we continue on this path that I think we’re going. Then again there’s more.
Very recently, while we were having yet another of our marathon phone conversations, with me lounging in a very comfortable chair at home and with him still in the office at about 11 p.m., he mentioned very casually his plan to leave his uncle’s firm and maybe start to go on his own back home. The time frame? About a year and a half or so. I don’t know why it mattered so much to me, but I suddenly found myself choking, with real tears falling from my eyes. I believe I spent more than an hour weeping that night, just because I was already feeling bereft. I didn’t want him to go. I actually thought of telling him that I couldn’t go on seeing him anymore. True, it would probably be the easiest (and most cowardly) thing to do to get out now and be hurt less than I would be if I hung around till the end. But then again, I reasoned that if in the end my saying goodbye now would spare me from more heartaches in the long run, maybe it would be the right thing to do.
But after some careful thought (my friend Jen would call it brooding), I came to the decision that regardless of how it was going to end, if I gave up now, then I’d spend the rest of my life thinking about ”shoulda-coulda-woulda’s.” I’d always be wondering ”What if?” even if he has a ”When I’m gone I’m gone” policy. Never mind if in the end we do have to say goodbye. Until it actually happens, I’d better enjoy things while they last. I was in that frame of thought for a few days, and then we went out over the weekend. That was when he read my palm. As we talked about what my ”money, life and love lines” showed, he showed me his palms, too, and he told me what his lines meant. On his ”love” line were curious breaks on both palms. He explained that they signified that he’d find his one great love, and that it would go really, really well, but somewhere along the way he’s going to ”split.” For a little while I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t even meet his eyes.
Was he talking (either unconsciously or consciously) about the two of us? Was someone trying to tell us something? Five, four, three, two, one. Ah, the moment passed. I quipped that no one really knows anything for sure, and that nothing’s for certain. He shrugged, and told me I’m probably right. We went on drinking our coffee, relishing the last few moments until the time when we had to get up and he had to drive me home, making the long trip from Makati to Las Pinas and back again. He hung around for a little while, seemingly not minding the mess that my two brothers left, probably because he himself lives with two small cousins of his own. Then he said good night, and I walked him to the gate. He gave me a salute of sorts just before he closed his car door, and off he went. As I watched the taillights fade in the darkness, I noticed that the stars were out. I made a wish on one, and before I finally went in, I decided that, as my friend Jen put it, it’s better to have found the courage to love and lose it in the end rather than never to find love because one is too afraid to face its challenge. Who knows what’s written in the stars? I certainly don’t, but I won’t let that stop me.
