Letters to My Heartbreaker

19

Bumangon akong may mabigat na ulo at imamasahe na sana ang sentido nang may maramdaman ako sa isang kamay. Napatingin ako sa gilid ng kama at nakita sa sahig ang natutulog na Jarvis. Ang kaniyang ulo ay nakapatong sa kama habang ang isang kamay ay nakahawak sa akin.

Kumabog ng mabilis ang dibdib ko kaya agad kong inalis ang kamay sa hawak niya. Unti-unti ko ring naalala ang nangyari kagabi; ang pagbabaka-sakali kong malimutan ang trahedya sa pag-inom ng alak. Ngayon ko lang napagtanto na isang kabobohan iyon. Nadala ako sa emosyon at sa kagustuhang malampasan na ang nangyari sa nakaraan.

Muli ko siyang pinagmasdan at umambang tumayo ngunit napaupo rin ulit sa kama nang maramdaman ang konting kirot sa may tuhod. Napatingin ako sa paa ko at nakita ang napakaraming band-aid.

Inalala ko ang suot ko kagabi at sigurado akong naka-pajama ako at hindi naka-shorts! Sino ang nagpalit ng suot ko?

Napatingin ako sa damit pang-itaas ko at napabuntong-hininga nang makitang hindi iyon napalitan. Tiningnan ko si Jarvis na unti-unti na palang gumagalaw, nagising yata dahil sa akin.

Siya ba ang nagpalit ng pajamas ko? At bakit may mga sugat ako sa paa?

Humikab ang bagong gising na si Jarvis habang kinukusot-kusot ang mata. Agad siyang napatingin sa akin at napalitan ang maamong kagigising na mukha ng pag-alala.

"How are you feeling? Does your wounds hurt? What do you wa—"

"Chill, Jarvis. Chill." I smiled at him, hoping it would wipe the worried look off his face.

He sighed and sat beside me, muttering a series of curse and "ows!" on the process. His back and butt might be hurting right now for sleeping while sitting!

"Need a massage?" I offered but he immediately shook his head and gave me a serious look.

"Did you know how worried I was when I went in here to check on you only to find you in the kitchen with a glass of rum in your hand?" he said in frustration.

He messaged his temples while breathing hardly before continuing, "And when I carried you from the floor, I almost fainted when I saw your red-stained paja--"

"I'm sorry," I blurted out. I looked down and played with my fingers. I felt ashamed and guilty of what I did. I'm supposed to be helping him yet I'm being a burden instead. "I should just leave. I'm being a problem already."

"No, it's not that." He lifted my chin yet my eyes were looking everywhere but him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

"All I'm trying to say is that you don't have to force things to happen since it will just hurt you even more," he explained.

"Healing is a process, please don't force yourself," he added.

I brought my eyes to him, curious on why he's talking about these healing stuffs, "Why are you telling me such? How did you know that..." I trailed off.

"You told me last night. Don't you remember?"

I shook my head so he recalled what happened. He had to wake me up to let me change my pajamas since it was stained with the blood from the wounds I got from kneeling on the fragments of the broken glass. He was the one who cleaned my wounds and placed band-aid on it.

I thought that the story ends there but I was mistaken. It turns out that I cried all night while telling him what I wanted to happen and complained about everything that has happened. In short, he witnessed my drama yet I couldn't remember any of those.

"At what time did I stop?" I asked.

"Around two in the morning," he answered, his arm now on my waist, pulling me closer to him.