(Flashback)
I left the airport after being interrogated for 5 hours.
We got detained shorter since Eric and I were minors.
My parents were not that happy at all when they picked me up after receiving a phone call from the airport officials that their 17 year old kid had been involved in some sort of catastrophe.
They have to close the bakery, my mom's pride and joy, in order to drive 3 hours from the province to Manila to bail out and vouch to the airport securities that their idiotic son will never do those things again.
I heard profuse apologies being thrown in back and forth from both my parents' mouths.
I am dead.
It was a tough drive back to my university dormitory.
My mom was the first one to break the deafening silence in our car.
"I thought when we sent you here in the city to do your fine arts course in UP Diliman (University) that you will be good." She said, her voice sounded sad, and nearly trembling.
"I specifically heard you say that you will stay out of trouble."
At times like these, I should just shut up...but of course, I was in my puberty stage.
I blame hormones for everything back then.
"I was, am, staying out of trouble but..." I whined.
Again, I was 17 so don't judge me.
"No buts, Nicholas." This time my dad spoke.
"I was so disappointed. Imagine what we felt when we received that phone call from them telling us that our only son was in jail."
"Detention unit dad, jail is too harsh." I butted in.
Ahh! Me and my stupid mouth.
"Whatever you call it, I know it had the same effect for both your mother and I." He said grimly.
"I thought you were a good kid. I thought we made you grow into a mature person."
At this time my mom was just shaking her head.
I tried to be strong throughout the whole drive. I tried to harden my heart for the sake of my parents whom I have letdown.
"I am sorry for everything." I started.
"I am sorry for all the embarassment I have put you through." I choked.
"And I am still a good kid. I am lucky to have been brought up in a good environment and to have great parents like you guys." I said as we were arriving in front of my dorm.
This is it. I have to tell them.
"She's gone, Ma, Pa." that statement alone explained everything to my parents.
The car screeched to a stop as both of them looked at me in surprise.
"Oh son! We did not know." They said in unison.
"She left this morning to go to Canada with her parents. I heard about it from one of her friends in school." I said.
Oh hell, my eyes were getting watery.
"I was about to tell her about my feelings this weekend when I was about to visit you guys back in the province. But she did not wait for it." I said as I blinked.
"She did not wait for me." And the tears kept on flowing.
All I remember after that was that I spent my years in university like a zombie.
Eat. School. Sleep.
This was when Eric and my other friends have dubbed me as a hermit.
For some reason, that word felt nostalgic.
Where have I heard it before? Hmm...
Fortunately, I still finished with honors and started working in an international firm.
However, I got so bored with the monotonous events.
The hermit had finally woken up and struggling to be free, at least that is what I think that happened that fateful day.
Out of the blue, I suddenly declared that I needed to explore my surroundings.
I started looking for jobs that others might think as outside my comfort zone.
This was when I saw a job opening for an assistant art professor with menial wages at a prestigious university in Florence and without thinking twice I grabbed that opportunity.
It was a very unstable job, with no possible future to be escalated and promoted. My parents tried to force me to stay but I was quite rebellious at a young age of 21.
My parents gave up on stopping me and my decision, on the condition that Manang Rosa had to stay with me in Italy.
At that time, it was the only way I thought I could get them to say yes, so I agreed.
I did not regret that decision up to this day to bring my housekeeper with me to this foreign land. I consider Manang Rosa as my visible conscience. I would never have survived in Italy without her.
Packed with two luggages, I moved to a country where I had little to no knowledge of culture, people and language.
I worked hard and upgraded my studies. The dean saw the potential in me and had given me the position of main art professor after the other guy retired.
On the side, I had been joining competitions and exhibitions as a form of promoting my artworks.
One decent day, a Japanese guy named Hiroshi Takashima and an American named Derek Marshall, both avid artists and philanthropists have approached me and said that they have the capacity to fund for my very own art exhibit. They said I have the potential to go into mainstream.
I was stunned and grateful at the same time.
This felt so surreal.
Thus started my journey in becoming a household name, and like the saying goes 'the rest is history.'
My face was plastered in every art magazine and shockingly even gossip magazines like to feature me. They dubbed me as "the artist bachelor", and became known especially in the locale scene.
I still try to be as subdued as possible for privacy sake.
And I still lived like a hermit, with Manang Rosa as my sidekick.
I only have three places I go to everyday like a routine: house, university, and business i.e. gallery.
And even within these years, I always kept track on what my beloved had been doing.
Yes, I admit on everything Manang Rosa just revealed.
I did do clippings of her articles, collage of her face, collected those public photos of her (most of them were blurred or just profiles of her but I can tell it was her), and I did take long showers once in a while to hide my tear-streaked face from singing "If Ever You're In My Arms Again."
I promised everyday that I will build-up the courage to talk to her. But in all honesty, after all these years, I still don't know what to say if I ever see her again.
(End of Flashback)