Dearest Fynn

       I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you by the registration table. It was really you! After I don’t know how many years, I finally got to see you again. All the heart-warming memories of the time spent in my room playing the guitar and taking pictures of you in a cowboy hat came rushing back, and for once these few months I felt truly happy. A smile drew across my face, and I weave myself in the crowd so I can steal some more glances at you before the potentially awkward greeting. Your physique seemed to have remained the same, even the way you dress was unchanged —a long-sleeve shirt tucked inside blue jeans and paired with white sneakers— on the edge of ridiculous with just the kind of quirky that you possess.

       I could sense you glancing at me. I tried to be myself and pretended to be involved in a conversation. I wonder if those feelings you had for me still exist. I remember distinctly the week when you were staying in Vancouver, you would come up to my room as soon as we’re home and just sit next to the bed. I would follow you quickly and sit beside you in silence, not knowing why. It was only until later, after you had left, that I found out how you felt about me. I wish you could’ve just told me.  If we had a choice, I know we’d spend every minute together. And if we lived in the same country, we would probably end up together. Funny how fate’s always against me; playing tricks on my heart for letting me want what I cannot have.

       I pulled myself out of dreaming a future with you and focused on the present, by which time I had made a trip ’round the desert table and gotten myself pieces of fruit. We finally made eye contact at the buffet line. You smiled and I waved. I decided to stroll over to talk because the line was moving quite slowly. As soon as I neared, your smile widened. “How’s it going?”, inquired by both of us at the same time, drew some laughter. I wanted to hug you, but the plate of rice and chicken in your hand and bowl of fruits in mine prevented physical contact. I retreated to my end of the line so we could concentrate on having some dinner first. I tried to contain my excitement throughout the night.

       I went to sit down close to you so we can have a decent conversation, just like we used to do.  Between us, there are millions of unfinished conversations which we never have enough time for. We’ve been out of each other’s loops for so long that everything seemed familiar yet completely new. When you asked if I were ever going down South to visit, what I really wanted to say was “of course, if you want me to”. But long behold, I came up with excuses out of timidity. What would I be getting myself into if I did take that trip? A promise of a better life together in the future, or more heartache because there is nothing in store for our future and I’d have to leave a good friend in a couple of days? I couldn’t tell from your eyes how you feel about me anymore. I was just an interesting subject which you had not fully understood yet. The quiet and mysterious you was the same to me. I was very eager to find out more.

       After dinner and some small talk, we settled into the program of the night. You sat on the piano bench, which was more than 5 chairs away from me. I was stuck sitting beside relatives of yours and my own. I didn’t have the guts to walk over from my place to yours, so I hoped the speeches (which you didn’t understand) would end soon. You looked very busy with the handouts they provided. I thought about getting up and walking out of the room and taking you with me. We would sneak into the littlest corners of that building and let our desires take over. I could feel the intense chemistry between us when we were in the room together. I listened to the speaker half-heartedly, but pretended to be enjoying myself.

       With much anticipation, the report ended. I was excited for a moment before learning you had to leave. I look for you in the dispersing crowd and find you looking for your family at the other end of the room. My mom and your parents and your aunt decided to take a picture together. She wanted to do the same for us kids. So you were summoned by my side, and how I wanted to grab your arms and retreat to a corner where it was quiet. We fall into formation for the picture-taking. You stood beside me, and I could feel my heart pounding. Maybe yours was, too. I saw your mom gesture wildly, something I did not understand, behind my mom, who was taking the picture, and I laughed it off. Maybe she knew how you felt and wanted you to take some action. Maybe I was too naive to understand your silence. You headed towards the door with your family. How I wanted to hold you back and hug, or even kiss you goodbye. It was all too late. You stalled around the door for a while and waited for your parents to finish their goodbyes. I stayed back and tried to not look so sad. It was yet another goodbye. That greeting which we always dread.

       After you had left, I could not stop thinking about you. What you were doing and when exactly were you leaving town. Maybe there was still a chance for us to meet one last time before our next encounter in whoever knows how long.

       The possiblities and the chances were there, but we were not there to take them. Give us one week and I know sparks will fly. Now, everything is bygones and I try to look forward. It wouldn’t be hard to move on because you’re so far away from me. But the decision is still up in the air. I look up and see a blurred picture of you that I took a few years back. With your signature outfit and your head down, the world in the photograph is just like a mirror image of mine. It’s starting to swirl out of control without your presence. I cannot believe that once again I have to let you go. I cannot sleep. I’m afraid that as soon as I close my eyes, everything will dissolve into a bittersweet dream. I am really going to miss you, Fynn. You can hold me to that until the next time we meet.

 

Yours always,

w i gg l e R o 0 O m