Midnight Summer

Come here. The memories that comes with the word, the voice that shouts those exact words in my mind.

The word still rings and pierces my ears as if it were a thin, painful sound that you hear when a fork and a knife is scratched on a ceramic plate. I still hear his voice, I can see his face, when I look beyond this rock that I am standing on. It had been branded on me like a hot iron pressed against the skin.

It was a whisper to my ear, as if the air that surrounds me keeps on reminding me of our summer together. It was both a sweet, magnificent voice that reminds me of our time together, how simple and happy the times were when it was just the two of us. And yet, it pains me when I remember.

It was midsummer of the year 2015, the first time that I’d seen him. I was waiting for the night to pass, afraid and unwilling to go home to a house filled with toxicity and loud noises. I was sitting on a park bench in Intramuros, poking at the fishball that I had bought recently. I had not eaten any of it yet, I just had my back leaned against the bench, staring into nothingness, not seeing anyone beyond the blur focus of my eyes.

It was then when a voice had gotten my attention out of my own little world.

“What’s with the long face?” He asked. I’d look up to him, his humble and soft expression intrigued me. He bent down to meet my eyes, his hand pushing back the lock of hair that dropped in front of his face. When the light hit his face, I knew that I’d seen him before. I always passed by him in the halls of our college, gathered around his friends.

I didn’t know what was going on in my head that time, and on impulse, I’d said: “Do you want to get out of here?” He’d looked around, and then turned back, looking at what I assumed was his friends. I noticed his hesitation and then said, “I’m sorry, it’s such a weird thing to say. You’re that guy from college, right? Ethan Del Mundo.”

“You're from BS Psychology, right?” he said. I’d notice his attempt to not offend me, it was adorable. He had forgotten my name, or something like that, seeing as how he had an embarrassed expression. I debated whether I would let him know my name, It's Cassandra, nice to meet you. Too proper.

“Sandra Garcia,” I introduced myself, “I’ve seen you around the halls.”

There was a silence that passed between us, and he’d looked around. We both felt awkward, and I knew that I should run from this kind of interaction, but there was a little hope that stayed in my guts that he’d take up my offer. But as I looked at him, I knew he wasn’t going to go with me. Not when his friends were all there.

“I probably should go…” I muttered, standing up from the bench and walking away. “I’ll see you around.”

“Let’s go!” I thought I’d heard him say that. I was halfway to the road when he ran after me, taking my arms. “My car’s up ahead, where did you want to go?”

“Are you up for a long drive?”

“How long exactly?”

***

Around two in the midnight when we decided to go to Nasugbu, Batangas. Our topic went from talking about cliff diving to asking each other “Should we go?”. While we were driving in the skyway, we had the windows open. There wasn’t much traffic, not much car around. The music was blasting and the windows were down. We’d talked about his friends, the ones that he left behind back in the park. He told me, point-blank, that he was planning to ask me out anyway, I happened to ask first.

We’d drive through KFC for food, then we’d drive all night, asking each other questions. Within an hour, we’d talked as if we were friends that knew each other our whole years, as if tonight was the only time we’d gotten together for a very long time. We’d already known each other’s past dating history. He’d told me that he was an open book, I could ask anything and he’d answer. True to his words, he had never avoided one question. He was in that park because his friends went to his house on a whim, peeling him off of his bed, and bringing him wherever. If he had to choose any country to be in right now, he would be in Scotland right now. He knew how to sing and play the guitar, not to brag— he added.

Around three in the morning, when he finally said that he was a bit tired from the drive, we’d checked into a hotel in Tagaytay city. We’d gotten a small room, one bed and one bathroom. He’d told me that he could sleep on the floor—- actually he insisted that he slept on the floor. He took one pillow, then I gave him a blanket for him to sleep on.

I could not sleep, staring at the ceiling for almost half an hour. I’d turn and jerk on the bed, finding the best position to make me fall asleep. I hugged myself, unable to sleep without a pillow to hug, but also to heat up myself. When he noticed it, he finally spoke up, “I told you, you should’ve taken the blanket.”

“You need it more.”

He stood up, pulling the blanket off of the floor and giving it to me. “Here,” he gave the blanket to me.

I’d taken the blanket, wrapping myself around it. Then, out of—- guilt? I mustered up the courage to say, “Come here, get in the bed.”

“I don’t—”

“It’s alright, really. I won’t mind.” I urged him. He paused for a minute and when he realized that I was not going to take no for an answer, he finally threw me his pillow and settled beside me, sleeping on the corner of the bed.

***

It took me a while to notice that Ethan had his arms wrapped around me when I woke up.

It didn’t faze me. I’ve always trusted my guts, and it hasn’t once told me that I should stay away from him. Something in him made me trust him, unconditionally, at that. I looked up as I heard him yawn, and I waited for his reaction to come.

He jumped out of bed, pulling his arms that wrapped around me as well. I couldn’t help but laugh at his reddened, embarrassed face. “I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologized and dipped his head into a little bow.

“I didn’t mind,” I told him.

A couple more exchanges of saying I’m sorry and It’s alright, we finally went on with our plan. We’d continued on driving to the beach, continuing our questions for each other.

“Your most embarrassing story?”

“I was at a party, and we were doing this typical truth or dare, and they’d dared me to drink a cup of beer then spit it out and give it to this random guy. And this guy saw what I had done even before I could even give it to him, and I didn’t know it at that time, so I went ahead and gave it to him. I was called out, it was embarrassing.” I talked to him like we had met decades ago.

He’d told me about his experiences too, how his most embarrassing experience was last summer when his group of friends dared him to ask out a girl in front of the girl’s boyfriend, which he almost got into a fight because of.

When it was my turn to ask, I was testing the waters, but ultimately just blurted out, “Was this a dare by your friends? To go with me?”

“Sort of—” he answered, “They dared me to talk to you, but then you’d asked me out… I couldn’t pass.”

“Why not?”

“Last days…”

"Of Summer?"

But he didn't say anything. He just smiled, as if thinking that summer would be ending was painful.

I’d noticed his flinch and discomfort as he answered my question, so I’d told him that we’d drop the topic and move on to the next questions. We’d stopped at a mall to buy ourselves a couple of clothes, knowing that whatever we were doing was unplanned, and the most spontaneous thing that we had done. The ride went on for another hour and by ten in the morning, we’d reached the beach. We walked to the water, barefoot on the sand. I’d buried my feet under and then lift them up, as if to play with it. We spent the day playing and swimming, and then for lunch, we’d walk over to the nearest food truck.

By the end of the day, we were lying down on the sand, looking up at the stars that were above us.

“Are you sure that no one will be looking for you?” He asked. I kept my distance from him, a couple of inches away, but still close to feel the heat of him. “Parents, relatives, boyfriend?”

I shook my head, knowing my family, they were too caught up with themselves that they wouldn’t bother looking for me. “None at all,” I answered, giggling as I looked at him. “My family couldn’t care less and I don’t have a boyfriend that would worry for me.”

“Really?”

“If you wanted to know if I was single, you could’ve just asked.”

“Wh— No…”

“I was kidding,” I said, laughing at his red cheeks. I have adored the fact that his embarrassment was always noticeable, always evident. “I had an argument with my best friend Jake, a couple of bad blood with my family that I wanted to run away from for a while.”

And then I’d looked into his eyes, letting myself drown in my problems that had exhausted me so much, and I knew that only he could distract me from it. But it wasn’t enough, having him from a safe distance. I’d propped myself on my elbows and then leaned myself towards him. I’d waited for him, afraid to make a move on him.

He wanted it as much as I did, closing the gap that separated both of us. It was slow and what you’d call passionate, sweet and somehow… It was like testing the waters. I didn’t know what actions that I could do that would stop whatever this was happening between us.

When he’d pull away, he stared me in the eyes, stopping a smile that was eager to come out. “I’m sorry.”

I touched my fingers to my lips, making out what I thought of the kiss. I didn’t know what to say nor do I want to even say anything. I lifted my head to his, kissing him again, this time more savagely than I did before. I didn’t know why I had kissed him, whether it was just out of lust or attraction or passion. I didn’t even want to know. Perhaps this kiss was a test that I have answered briefly and didn’t want to know the score that I had gotten. And so as I propped myself on my arms, I was afraid to move. I have not yet come to a conclusion on whether I did like it or not, or maybe I did not want to end this yet.

When the kiss ended, I’d gone back to sit and grabbed handful of sands every now and then, unable to both make up my mind on what to say and on whether or not I should look at him in the eye. So I kept playing with the sand, waiting for him to initiate the conversation that we needed badly.

Then he’d stood up, walking over to the water that was a couple of feet away from us. I’d only watch him, realizing that all these times that I’d seen him around in college, I’d never really been looking. There was a certain beauty in his smile, shallow dimples on both sides of his cheeks when he laughs. I’d seen him around but if only I’d looked a little longer, I’d have notice these even more. Like when I’d stared into his eyes a couple of minutes back, how when the sun shines through his eyes, they’re like whiskey.

A little later, we’d finally returned to the car and changed into our clothes that we had bought earlier. I was the first to change and then after, I’d wait for him on the passenger’s seat. A slight view of him, I could see through the side mirrors. I couldn’t help but look. And then he’d met my eyes— I was caught staring at him, and still, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

He’d repaid me with the same desire in his eyes. Somehow, my guts were telling me what would happen this night, and there wasn’t a shadow of hesitation grazed my mind. I wanted this, and so did he. So I’d say the only thing that I could push out of my mouth. “Come here.”

And he did.

***

“Come here!”

They were the exact same words, and yet they were different. When those words were once something that excites me and somehow make me feel like there were butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, now just felt dull and a reminder of what I’d lost. I turned around, only to my chagrin, it wasn’t Ethan. It was Jake. We all turned around, he watched from a distance. “We should get going, Cass.”

“I’m coming,” I shouted back, placing my hand on Maya’s shoulders and pulling her close to me.

“Where is he now?” I’d heard Maya, my eldest daughter, ask. “Ethan?”

After that one night, he’d brought me home and then drove home. I was excited for summer to end, to see him in the halls with his friends, say Hey, how are you? as I pass by him and maybe make something more out of what happened that summer. It was a couple of weeks after that night that I’d realized that I missed his touch, I missed his company. But like always, I’d always been too late to admit my feelings to anyone, even myself. So when I’d walked up to his friends the first day of our classes, and asked where he was, they’d told me words that I’d never want to hear.

“He’s gone.” I answered her, my pain evident in my voice, but only I could hear it.

I’d found out that he had been battling cancer for the past few days, and over the summer he had gotten worse and worse as the day passed. His friend, Matt, whom I’d recognized from the night that I had asked him out, had told me everything that had happened. He’d told me that Ethan didn’t want me to know, thinking that what we had was only for that night. And then towards the end, as I’d sobbed from knowing about everything that happened to Ethan, Matt had told me that the only thing that Ethan wanted me to know was it was the best part of his life, our little trip together. He’d known me since our first year in college and always wanted to ask me out but never had the courage to ask me out, because of both fear and his illness. He’d told me that I had given Ethan the best part of his year, possibly even his life, and that he will always be thankful for it.

Had I known that that was what he meant about last days... I would've talked to him more, called over the phone... Just be with him more. I didn't know that I'd miss a person with whom I shared a night six summers ago. But here I was, missing him like crazy.

“And your friend, Sandra?”

With my throat closing up, I’d forced the words that I dread to say. It’s stupid and it was a reminder of how much I’d taken things—- him for granted. And now, I could only reminisce about our one summer night together. And I knew that with him, I was also... “Gone.”