Chapter 2

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Work hard, party harder...but save hardest and invest supercalifragilisticexpialidocious-ly! Repeat 3x then pray.

I had that quote placed on the ceiling of my bedroom, just above my head. So, every time I would wake up, I would see that first and remind me what to do for the rest of the day, the week, the month, the year.

I also had it placed on my corkboard at the back of my PC in the office. Again, to constantly remind me not to be lazy on anything. And so, I was progressing, I could tell. This is the start of a new life, I thought.

Since I was going back to being a bibo kid, I accepted a conference invitation our boss sent to our group.

It was a ‘media laws and ethics on a political setting’ seminar in San Beda Law School. I thought I already passed that in junior-senior college year?

Anyway, to one cool surprise, I came across a high school batch mate in that seminar. He was actually one of the speakers  and he discussed about public administration. Nose bleed.

During break...

“Elizabeth Cordova. The dramatic actress-slash-writer of our batch,” he called out with his baritone voice as he approached me in the buffet table.

Seriously? You actually remember me like that? Huy, Salva!Looking good, ha,” I responded awkwardly.

“Thanks but please just call me Dennis. You know, I don’t really feel like getting old. Look at you. You look--------healthy,” he said as he stared at me obscurely from head to toe.

Healtheeeee??!! What the f---! I really felt embarrassed and I just wanted to stab his jaw with the fork I was holding. I pretended not to care, though. “Hiyang sa work, eh.”

“Seems like you enjoy being in the media a lot. So tell me, what have you been doing lately,” Dennis asked. Ah, alam ko na kung saan patungo ‘to.

Dennis Miguel Salvador.

The over-popular, over-arrogant, over-self-proclaiming overachiever.

That describes him all. No further evidences required.

Over na nga eh! We used to call him Salva back in high school because we were fond of calling people by surnames; and well, because he was rumored to be gay.

“Oh, I’m actually very busy. I’m currently the head writer of the midshift newscasts in our station. I also attend theater classes thrice a week. But you know I had to make myself available this weekend for this seminar. Well, as you said—dramatic actress and writer of our batch,” I gave a plastic laugh.

“Sounds interesting!” he complimented, or did he? Fuck you! “Me, I just enjoy life to the fullest. You know, I travel a lot because of projects...”

And the list went on, I would never want to share. We just ended the conversation with an exchange of calling cards.

***

The hours between 11PM and 4AM are my functioning hours.

Back in school, I would review for quizzes, periodical tests, midterms and finals during those hours. That’s the time when my neurons responsible for memory enhancement are fully awake.

It’s because I absorb things better when everything else is quiet (except for the kuligligs) and the night sky is darker that stars look a little more visible.

It is also when I become so hooked with something that really interests me—writing stories, for example.

But that night, I had a new technique that would help me not only collect words and lines but also, somehow I hope, lose weight. Midnight jogging for 30 minutes.

I went home really tired after doing a rare midnight jogging. Just when I was preparing to take a shower, my phone vibrated notifying an incoming message. A message at 12:40 A.M. That must be real important.

I was about to read the text message but my phone went off so I had to make use of my time taking a bath while charging my phone.

After the 15-minute shower, I opened my phone to see who texted. The message opened and it read:

“Hey batch mate! You are cordially invited to the most awaited and long overdue High School reunion of batch 2007. Your presence will be highly appreciated, since almost 10 years na tayong ‘di nagkikita-kita. We’re excited to see you. Let’s bring back the old days! This Saturday, 8PM @ Plaza Ibarra, Timog, QC, in hot semi-cocktail attire. See you there! –Trina/Trining”

Wew. Thought it was a wedding invitation. I’m not ready to be a bridesmaid or maid of honor, not even a principal or secondary sponsor.

High school reunion??? Why on earth are they organizing something like that?

***

“That Salva boy must have given my number to Trining,” I told my college best friend Carol as I fit the dresses in the fitting room.

“It’s good you’re having a reunion with your high school friends. I wonder when we’ll have something like that. That’ll surely be fun,” said Carol as she tossed dresses to me.

“Surely, I miss my high school friends. But only my high school friends, and there just a few. Besides, what does everyone do in reunions like that? Chismisan, boasting what they have achieved for the last 10 years. I went here and there, I did this and that, I had 20 girlfriends, I earn 50k a month, I become assistant to VP—all those bullshit,” I opened the door. “This one’s maluwag,” I said referring to the black pencil-cut off-shoulder dress.

“Hay...plus the hassle of looking radiantly beautiful. Ay naku, idadaan ko na lang sa ganda ‘to!

***

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