LOVE, IN TIME
We met in college. We got on like a house on fire. That’s because we were the bagong-salta, the newbies in this unfamiliar campus so it was just natural for us to have banded together. On our first semestral break, she invited herself to sleep over. Her parents brought her to my house and we spent most nights gazing at the stars, trying to identify each formation and hoping to catch a falling star.
We liked the same subjects except she was not a diligent student. She simply wasn’t interested. However, she applied common sense in every situation she encountered. Generous to a fault, we shared the same junk food — shoestring potatoes and freshly roasted castañas, even if the latter wasn’t in season.
When we discovered boys, it further sealed and strengthened our friendship. We shared secrets, sworn to keep the mouth zipped tight even if hell froze over. Thank goodness, she was cool and levelheaded, quick to give timely advice, “Use your head. Don’t let the moon glow cast any spell and make you lose all sense of propriety and control.” Oh my! I swear she was like my mother and the dreaded madre
superiora, rolled into one. Have you ever heard anyone tell you to “Be the channel of grace to the boy you love”? That’s her.
It therefore knocked me out of my senses when she decided to marry. We were barely out of our junior year. “Why?” I wailed. “You hardly know him.” “I know,” she admitted. “But my dad is seriously ill and I have this feeling that he wants me to settle down before things make a turn for the worse.”
As a bride, she was breathtaking. She chose a little chapel in the old part of Manila and I held a rosette bouquet and stood as her bridesmaid and maid-of-honor, combined. I brought my hand close to my chest to pray, for her. Her smile gave me the assurance that joy and peace were attainable.
And then the babies started coming. A boy, a girl, and another boy. All incredibly adorable. She made me the
ninang to her only daughter. While she continued to dote on her husband, her babies, and her job, I was still at the core of choosing a career but steadily dating many good, potential husband material. Finally, I made a choice and she instantly warmed up to him. She cheered and encouraged me to be the best wife, (second only to her). Sometimes, when rough seas threatened my world, she’d throw me a lifebuoy and sit next to me to listen. My lamentations, exaggerated and full of drama, found a captive audience in her. Whether I was right or wrong, she always took my side. That’s her.
One day, pregnant with my second child, she showed up unannounced. That’s how welcome she was at my house. I had some repair work done and when the tradesmen left, I discovered that a vintage watch given by my mother was missing. I turned the house upside down and I bawled like a lost, helpless child. “Mama gave that watch for my birthday,” I cried. It was the latest model in the 1950s, the first with interchangeable leather straps that came also with a solid gold bracelet. My friend tried to reassure me that the watch will “appear” if I stopped looking for it. Dispirited, it took me several months before I gave up on ever recovering the watch. I felt that St. Anthony, patron of lost things, had denied me on this occasion.
On my birthday, my friend showed up for a simple lunch. Over dessert, she gave me a box wrapped in my favorite purple. “What is this?” I asked. “Open it,” she laughed. When I opened the box, it was my missing watch! Or so I thought. “I saw how distraught you were when you lost your watch so I’m giving you mine,” she said. That’s her.
I wore the watch constantly and on one trip to Geneva, I went to Bucherer, a jewellery store that carried the Rolex brand. “Would you by chance, carry the leather straps for this vintage watch?” I asked. The manager examined the watch, excused herself, and came back with a tray. It was filled with leather straps, in different colors. “Oh my goodness!” I exclaimed. I picked all. “This is our whole stock,” the lady manager continued. I broke into a Kylie Minogue song, “I should be so lucky, so lucky indeed.”
It has been 42 years since my friend gave up her watch, for me. It has been six years since she has gone on to heavenly bliss. Whenever I wear the watch, it opens a flood of memories, of the caring, loving, and genuine friendship that had stood the test of time.
My inaanak, her only daughter, is turning 40 years old. What better homage can I give (back) to her?