Mixtapes, Mistakes, and Memories

Teresa

If you had told me in my teens that twenty-six years into my marriage, quiet mornings and predictable evenings would be my life—and that choosing a new brand of toothpaste would be our biggest adventure—I’d laughed and punched you in the face.

 “Tere?” Eduardo called out and entered the kitchen.

At fifty-one, Eduardo still charmed everyone he met. The strands of gray mixed with his black hair suited him perfectly. He worked as a bank supervisor, but he could easily pass as a model with his fit physique. It showed in the confident way he moved.

I, on the other hand—despite being two years younger—was often called an aging witch by my students behind my back.

Eduardo

Teresa had a fiery personality—the cute rebel of Sagada. She was the type to suddenly burst out laughing in the middle of a radio drama, right when everyone else was caught in an emotional moment. She’d poke fun at her friends for gushing over popular OPM bands, yet secretly stole her sister’s Walkman to listen to her hidden mixtape of favorite ballads, singing her heart out where no one could hear her. No one except me—the man who slowly but surely fell hard for her.

But after years of marriage, I often felt like an anchor, keeping her from drifting to a better place. This feeling intensified whenever her genuine smile faded and was replaced by a forced one.

"I have a surprise," I said, handing her the envelope, my heart pounding as I watched her open it.

"What's this?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she pulled out the cash, hotel reservations, and a receipt for a rental car.

I reached out and kissed her forehead. "Let's go on a vacation."

Teresa

The rented car creaked as Sagada’s mountain views unfolded. Familiar pine trees lined the road, and Noel Cabangon’s Kanlungan played on the radio, pulling me back to my carefree days. I almost felt the cool, damp earth beneath my bare feet, the rice field mud clinging between my toes.

More OPM songs filled the car, but when Nerbyoso by Rivermaya came on, a strange resentment surfaced. I glanced at Eduardo, who gazed out the window with nostalgia. The stupid song was the first track on the mixtape he gave me when I was nineteen—the song that made me fall for him.

“I used to love singing that song,” I said.

If he heard the edge in my tone, he didn’t show it. Instead, he unbuckled his seat belt, leaned toward the driver, and politely said, “Excuse me, could you turn the volume up a bit?”

Something inside me snapped. “You always do this—always trying to fix everything!”

The driver’s fingers froze on the volume dial, and the car plunged into an uncomfortable silence. Eduardo’s face fell, his lips pressing into a thin line as he turned to look out the window.

I stared at my reflection in the window, chest tight. I didn’t know why I’d said it—or why simpler times ached so much to remember. Eduardo didn’t deserve my anger. He’d done nothing but love me.

“I’m not a child, Eduardo,” I said softly. “You can’t fix me with a song or a trip. Something’s missing inside me.”

Eduardo faced me, his eyes moist. “You’re not happy with me, are you?”

“What? No, that’s not true.”

“Then what is it? I thought this trip would remind you of how we used to be.”

I clenched my fists. “I don’t need a reminder, Ed. I need to figure out why I’m dying inside.”

“I never wanted to hold you back, Tere. Only hold you close.” His quiet voice felt like a knife to my heart.

Eduardo

It felt like someone grabbed my heart and squeezed it tight. The pine trees blurred together as my wife’s words replayed over and over. It hurt. Over the years, I tried everything to keep her happy: small surprises, spontaneous trips, even this vacation to Sagada. But none of it seemed to work. Maybe she regretted marrying me.

The squeal of tires snapped me out of it.

“What’s going on?” I asked, instinctively holding Teresa’s hand. She was trembling.

The car skidded as loose rocks tumbled down the mountainside.

I forgot to buckle the seat belt back, but I was grateful for it because I could wrap my arms around Teresa as the vehicle hurtled toward the edge.

The world flipped—then came a deafening crash. Glass shattered, metal groaned, and the force of the collision sent my head back. My vision blurred, the edges of the world dimming as pain shot through me.

My eyes found the bleeding driver and felt Teresa’s hand clutching mine, weak but still there.

“I’m sorry, Ed,” she said faintly. “Sorry for everything.”

“Don’t be,” I whispered, the words slurring. I could feel my strength leaving me. “I love being your husband, but if there’s a next life…” I gasped for air and squeezed out my last words. “Please, don’t choose me.”

Then, darkness before I was pulled into the light

Teresa

I yelped as my face slammed into something hard. I stepped back and saw that it was a banner hanging on a wooden fence. Wood?

The last thing I remembered was the car spinning, Eduardo’s arms around me, and the sound of his voice—steady, even in the chaos.

Now, I stood in the sunlight, surrounded by familiar sounds: chirping birds, busy streets, and a man cursing as his carabao pulled a wooden cart past me.

“What’s going on?” I whispered, taking in the surroundings. The noise of busy townsfolk, students running out of the gate beside me...

My breath hitched.

“This isn’t...” My voice trailed off as my hands trembled. I looked down at my slender fingers. My skin was smooth and tanned. I turned my hands over, flexing my fingers, running them over my curves in disbelief. I hadn’t been this thin in years.

I spun around, loving the feel of my favorite floral dress against my legs, my long black hair tumbling over my shoulders—hair I hadn’t seen in decades. I slapped a hand over my mouth. “No way,” I whispered, stepping back.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you too hard. You okay?”

I whipped around and met Eduardo’s eyes. He stood a few feet away, looking at me with concern and amusement. He was younger—so much younger. His hair was dark and full, his face free of lines. He wore a faded plaid shirt with rolled sleeves and old jeans hanging loosely on his frame.

“Eduardo?”

He cocked his head, frowning slightly. “Uh, yeah? Do I know you?”

The words hit me like a punch in the gut, leaving me breathless. He didn’t recognize me? So he wasn’t my Eduardo? Of course not. Eduardo was fifty-one. This man looked like Eduardo when we first met. But then again, what about me? I hadn’t seen my face yet, but all signs pointed to a much younger woman.

I turned away from the young man, facing the wooden fence, and rubbed my fingers across the bridge of my nose. Think. What was happening? I took a deep breath, then looked straight at the banner and hyperventilated. Bold, colorful letters painted on the banner read: Welcome to St. Mary's School 84th Anniversary!

My knees buckled, but before I could drop to the ground, Eduardo’s arm caught me, holding me up.

“It’s St. Mary’s School’s 84th anniversary today?”

He hesitated before letting go of me and nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”

“To celebrate with your cousin,” I said, making him furrow his brows.

“How did you know?”

You told me the day we met, my mind immediately answered. Despite the warmth of the sun beating down on us, my hands were cold and trembling. “It’s 1996.”

“Yes,” Eduardo said, smiling.

“You’re twenty-one.”

“How did you—” He paused. “You look pale. Are you sure you’re okay?”

I forced a shaky smile, my mind spinning. How was this possible? Did we die? And now—what?

Eduardo held out his hand, offering a yellow-and-black Walkman with a white earphone plugged into it. “You dropped this when I pulled you. Sorry again, but I don’t think it’s damaged. I already checked.”

I looked at it, remembering this situation.

I took it from him, feeling like I was forgetting something. Eduardo smiled as if he knew something I didn’t. But before I could point it out, a woman’s voice shouted my name.

“Teresa! Maldita kang babae ka!” She called me naughty as she marched toward me, furious. From my memory, I pocketed the Walkman, sprinted out of there while thanking Eduardo. But the sight of my twenty-six-year-old sister alive made me run toward her, tears falling down my cheeks.

“Ate Marites, I miss you so much!” She seemed at a loss for words as I tackled her, most likely expecting me to run away.

“I still want my player back.”

“Yes,” I said, snuggling into her.

Marites turned to Eduardo, who still hadn’t left. “Uh, excuse me, do you need something?”

“Ah, Ate, he saved me from being trampled by a carabao,” I replied.

“What?” She grabbed my arm. “That’s it, we’re going home before I find you in the hospital.”

I laughed as she pulled me away but glanced back at Eduardo. He watched us, amused—maybe sad? No time for him. Marites was my only family. She went abroad to support my dream of college in Manila but was raped and murdered. Now, back in the past, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight.

Eduardo

The moment I saw her, I knew.

I’d recognized her anywhere. Teresa—my Teresa—was here, standing before me. I didn’t know how, and I wasn’t sure why. One moment, I held her as the car spun out of control. The next, I was twenty-one again, back at St. Mary’s School’s anniversary—the day we first met.

When she turned and said my name, my heart stopped. She remembered too.

I almost pulled her into my arms right then and there, but I stopped myself and pretended.

“Uh, yeah? Do I know you?”

The words burned. I saw the confusion in her eyes as she turned away.

As I handed her the Walkman she had dropped, I tried to gather my thoughts. It was strange, seeing her like this. The years had melted away, and there she was—the rebellious girl who once stole my heart and sang her soul out into the Sagada mountains. But her eyes weren’t the same. Even then, I could see the weight of our years together lingering in them.

As I watched her sprint toward her sister, tears streaming down her cheeks, my chest tightened.

Marites. I remembered her too. Teresa had wept for days when she lost her.

Now she had her sister back, and she seemed happy. Free in a way I hadn’t seen in years.

Maybe that’s all she needed. A chance to be the girl she used to be, without the baggage of me.

She needed this chance, I thought. Even if it meant letting her go and the future we shared.

I nodded and turned to the school gate. I’d stay close—close enough to keep her safe. But I wouldn’t push. I’d be the friend who was always there, not the husband she didn’t want.

I looked up at the clear blue sky. “Ricardo, I’m sorry. Your dad’s probably going to be single in this life.”

Eduardo

Days and weeks went by. It started small. Teresa showed up at the school plaza during breaks, casually sitting on the bench where I liked to read. Sometimes, she’d glance at me and smile. At first, I thought she was just being polite, but then one afternoon, a day before I was scheduled to go back to Manila, she sat beside me and grinned. “Ed, do you think I’m different?”

I blinked and closed the book I was reading, confused at the sudden question. “Different from what?”

She shrugged, looking away. “From your ideal girl.”

The mixtape in my pocket burned. I ended up making it again, even though I never planned to give it to her this time. However, I desperately wanted to tell her the truth, to tell her that she wasn’t different at all—that she was still the most extraordinary person I’d ever met. But I kept my mouth shut.

“Eduardo,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Have you ever thought of me as more than a friend?”

My heart stopped. I searched her face for any sign of mischief, but she was serious.

“Why are you asking me that?” I said, my voice trembling slightly.

She smiled, and for the first time since we’d come back, I saw a glimpse of the fiery girl I’d hopelessly fallen for.

“Because I think I’ve been waiting for you to ask me first.”

“Oh, I don’t think it will work between us.”

“Trust me, it will.”

“But,” I looked at her with both hope and fear in my heart. “You will come to hate me.”

“Oh, shut up. I love you.”

Teresa

What the hell are you doing? My brain screamed, but my heart was louder. Despite the words I spat at Eduardo before we died, I still loved him. I didn’t think I could ever love anyone else—not after knowing what he was willing to give up for me.

He might have fooled my nineteen-year-old self, the one who didn’t know our future, but not me. He probably thought he could, but I hadn’t lived with him for over twenty years with my eyes closed. This wasn’t the young Eduardo of the past. He wasn’t acting like himself, and he was trying too hard to sell the idea of friendship.

I was tired of waiting. If he wouldn’t make a move, I would. I’d show him my heart wasn’t confused anymore.

I stretched my hand out. “Come on, give me the mixtape.”

His eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

“The mixtape you made for me to remember you after you left.”

He swallowed. “I don’t have it.”

I leaned closer and said, “A wife’s gotta do what a wife’s gotta do,” before kissing him. I felt him smile against my lips as I pushed my hand into his pocket. He let me take the tape and pulled me closer, kissing me back.

Eduardo

The steady beeping of a machine woke me up, but my eyelids remained shut. The sound felt distant as if it was trying to pull me from somewhere far away. My body felt heavy, my head pounding like I’d been through a storm.

I forced my eyes open, blinking against the sterile brightness. The white walls, the faint smell of disinfectant—it all came rushing back.

The accident.

I tried to sit up, but pain flared through my chest, pinning me to the bed. My heart raced as I looked around, desperate for a familiar face. And then I saw him. Ricardo, my son, sitting by the window with a little boy on his lap.

“Dad!” he exclaimed, standing quickly. The toddler in his arms clung to him, wide-eyed and curious. “You’re awake!”

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, and only a rasp came out. Ricardo grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and helped me drink.

“Where’s...?” My voice cracked.

Ricardo smiled softly, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Mom’s just outside with my wife. She recovered a lot faster than you because you protected her, but she’s been here the whole time.”

Relief washed over me, but a sliver of doubt crept in.

The trip to the past, Teresa’s laugh, the passion in her kiss—was it all a dream?

I glanced at Ricardo’s face, searching for answers. He looked older, his features sharper than I remembered, and the boy in his arms—my grandson—was proof that time hadn’t rewound. My chest tightened.

“Are you okay, Dad?” he asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

I nodded weakly, watching as he handed the boy off to someone in the hallway and stepped out.

The door creaked open, and I held my breath.

Teresa stepped inside.

Her hair was short, but her smile was the kind that reached her eyes and felt like sunlight breaking through the fog.

“You look terrible,” she said with a smirk, crossing the room to stand by my bedside.

I stared at her, my heart pounding. She reached for my hand, her touch warm and familiar, “It’s... it’s really you?” I whispered.

She raised an eyebrow. “Who else would it be?”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. “The past... Did it...?”

Her lips twitched into a grin. She leaned over, her face close to mine, and whispered, “You should be ashamed of yourself, Eduardo. Making me pursue you like that.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded, before a laugh bubbled up from my chest. Relief crashed over me like a wave, and I reached up to cup her face, pulling her into a kiss.

A familiar voice groaned dramatically. Marites stepped into the room. “First thing he does after waking up?” She crossed her arms in mock annoyance and wrinkled her nose. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Teresa straightened. “Good thing we’re already in the hospital.”

“Oh, please,” Marites waved her hand and turned to everyone else. “Okay, out everyone, let’s give the old lovebirds their room.”

Ricardo stared at her. “Aunty, please don’t give them ideas. I don’t want to be an older brother at my age now.”

“Why not? They still can.”

Teresa and I looked at each other and laughed.

The past had been real, and somehow, it had rewritten our future. Marites was alive, and Teresa... Teresa was glowing, her fire brighter than ever. I reached for her hand and held it tightly. “If we ever return one more time, will you still go for me?”

She beamed. “Always.”

I kissed her hand. “Yeah, me too."