Chapter 7 - Diary Entry No. 1

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Date: January 19, 2003

Time: 10:46 P.M.

Dear Diary,

                We finally did it.

                This entry marks our first day in this lovely house. Our dream house! We saved every penny we could to make this dream come true, and at last, here we are. No words could describe how glad I am. Stella and I have been planning to move in together for years. Unfortunately, neither of us would settle for a rented space, for both of us believed that having a house of our own would be very cost-efficient instead of paying monthly due. We worked very hard to put up this home from the ground up, sacrificing whatever amount we could.

                I haven’t introduced myself yet.

               I’m Wilfredo, and we’re going to be buddies from here on. Unfortunately, I can’t promise to write every night because I tend to stay up late working. We’re saving up for our next dream, you see. It’s been so long since we planned to start a family, but first, we need to get married. I do not want a son or daughter dubbed a bastard for not being able to carry my name legally. This house was the first step. With patience, and enough savings, I could finally give her the wedding she deserves. My account doesn’t have much, and so does Stella’s, but I’m sure that we’ll get through this. Every single coin we had went to the construction of this house, so we’ll have to start from almost nothing again, just like before.

             Be patient with me. Sometimes, I may not have a lot to tell for my days are almost constantly unchanging. In the morning, I drive to work with my old scooter. I wanted a car, but it was all my dad could afford as a graduation present. I’m grateful, nevertheless. Stella, on the other hand, resigned from work a few days ago. But it was a good move, for she’d be working at a different company from now on, with the promise of a higher salary. We’re on our way to the top, I tell you.

                Stella and I have been together for a very long time. I met her when she was still a bank teller. Mine is the lousiest of all love stories. From the first time that I laid my eyes on her, I knew it was love, and I didn’t believe in love at first sight until then.

                 I was in the bank, for all intents and purposes, to deposit money. I’d like to carry on with the details, but let’s leave it at that. Fine, I’ll admit. I forgot why I had to. All I could remember now was that I was there to make a deposit, but before I could, I had to wait for my transaction number to appear on the screen, for there were a lot of people on queue.

                I was at least twenty numbers behind, so I occupied myself with the television which didn’t even give a sound. I felt like watching a mime show, an awkward action movie where the characters screamed and shouted during the collapse of a building. Well, I could only say that through their facial expressions. Like I said, there was no volume.

                It was when I got so bored when I saw an angel by the counter. She had a name plate on the left side of her uniform just like every employee in the bank. I had to know her. I imagined I’d get my chance when it’s my turn to transact, but it was a one to three chance for there were two other tellers besides her. I knew for a fact that it was rare to catch a glimpse of heaven, for we all get one shot at it with a success rate of fifty percent, and that’s when we’re dead. I’m a Christian, and I thought God was indeed very kind to grant me an opportunity to meet someone like her.

                I prayed that the available counter, when my turn came, was hers.

                When it was down to the last three customers, I smiled when the old man at the counter next to hers seemed to be taking too long. Soon, the other counter would be free, seeing that the lady was already counting a wad of cash, a habit prior to leaving. The number ahead of mine would soon be called onto that same counter, and I’d get the privilege of marching of towards the beautiful teller.

                As expected, the female customer left, but to my surprise, returned for reasons I did not know. The middle counter was still occupied by the old fart, and to my horror, the teller which I sought was now available after having concluded her latest transaction, hence, leaving the one ahead of me to take the glory which was supposedly mine.

                But lady luck was on my side.

                The man beside me stood up. I caught a glimpse of his transaction slip and saw that he was the one to proceed to the available teller who waited for her next client. What are the odds, right? All it took was the guts to ask him to let me take his place on the line, which I did, and to which he agreed with. It was kind of him to make that sacrifice, and I thanked him a bunch.

                Grinning, I happily marched towards the lady I fancied.

                She greeted me a good morning to which I responded likewise. After that, an awkward silence came between us as I admired her, whom, on the other hand, seemed to be waiting for something. She called out to me as I got lost in my thoughts, asking me if I was okay, for I was must have stared at her for several seconds. I shook myself and gave a forced nod. I didn’t know what to say. I remembered my purpose of choosing her counter, and seeing her name plate made me recall my purpose of going to the bank.

                I was there to make a deposit.

                I was so lost in her eyes I could not speak fluently when I told her what I wanted. I was literally mumbling. She gave off a soft laugh at how clumsy I was. When she asked for my deposit slip, I felt like the leaning tower of Pisa about to crumble for good.

                Unlike the banking system nowadays, everything wasn’t electronic during that time, at least not in the bank I went into. When a customer gets in, the guard usually handed a transacting number, a number that would appear on a slideshow controlled by who knows who, signifying the holder’s cue to walk towards a teller.

                I held in my hand a transaction number. A deposit slip, I forgot to fill out.

                I laughed at my stupidity so hard that I wanted to give myself a well-deserved uppercut. I begged for her to let me leave the counter for a while so that I could get the damn slip and write on it. She was kind enough to allow me to do so, only she’d let the others proceed to her, and me falling in line once more.

                I stayed in there for almost another good hour.

                Sadly, I do not have much to tell you right now, except how excited I am with this new house. This is my first attempt to keep a record of my daily life, and I’m doing this mainly because a new house means a fresh start to me.

                Our house is too big for just the two of us, but I hope to have a child in the near future whom I’d scold for running around the house and breaking stuff. I bet it’ll be as stubborn as I was when I was a kid. We have no neighbors, except that ranch a few meters across the plains to our residence’s immediate right. I haven’t met its owner yet, but I intend to get to know everyone around if I bump into them. This seems a peaceful place, away from all the pollution in the city where I used to stay. Both our parents are dead. My dad passed away a few years after I became a licensed architect, while my mother left us before I was old enough to know better. My loss was nothing compared to Stella’s, learning at some point that she lost her parents to a car accident. She was the only survivor of the crash, and Stella lived under the care of her mother’s friend when she was six, someone who took her in as if she was a child of her own, together with Stella’s younger siblings. The only relative she had left was her sister, and a brother who’s under her support until now.

                I guess that would be all for now. Bear with me, for we’re only getting to know each other. Soon, you’d be the keeper of my secrets, if I happen to have any.

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