FICTION posted by Rica
She was standing in the middle of that stupid overcrowded mall, her left hand on her waist, her right hand fumbling in her pocket for her cell phone. Has he called yet, she heard the lady at the information booth ask. He hasn’t, but I doubt he’d bother to. No, but he will in a few minutes, she heard the guard stationed at the booth answer the woman.
Even that phantom vibration of her phone wasn’t there. She would know if he had called or had sent a message saying he’d be late again. But since it had been three hours since she started waiting for him, she was sure by now he had stood her up again. Not again, she told herself. Always falling for the same trap.
Her friend had once told her she was foolish. Stupid would be a better term, she joked, but they both knew she meant it. She was stupid, so stupid she always ended up waiting for hours for a person who she knew would never come anyway.
She would’ve liked to tell him, or her friend, or anyone really, that she was tired. It’s not as if waiting’s an exciting game, she mumbled to herself. She enjoyed observing people who ogled other people who were better dressed; she liked seeing kids running around the mall with their hapless yayas running after them; she disliked seeing mothers and fathers bringing along their kids to coffee shops instead of McDonald’s or Jollibees; and, she abhorred seeing couples walking around happily while she stayed in one place for an hour or two hoping that whom she was waiting for would see her right away if she didn’t move from that spot.
She hated what waiting made her mind do. She’d think too much about something insignificant, like how it was going to be too late to take a jeepney ride home when she finally decided to leave. She’d have to take a cab instead. She disliked thinking about what else she could’ve done if she were in the office or at home. She could’ve cleaned her room, washed her clothes, or even finished that report two weeks before the deadline. She hated thinking about what a waste it was sitting there, waiting for someone who she wasn’t even sure was coming. She abhorred waiting, but she still sat there every time she felt her phone vibrate.
When did it start anyway, this crazy waiting-in-vain drama of hers, she heard her friend ask. Her friend had never met this person she was always waiting for. Because he’s always late or never shows up, her friend laughed. He’s missing a lot by not meeting me, she heard her friend add. He’s coming, you’ll see, she told her. Her friend gave her the usual shrug before taking a sip from her espresso and taking another drag from her cigarette. That’s going to kill you, she reminded her. It’s a habit I can’t quit, she heard her friend say as she smiled back at her.
It was a Friday when she decided she was going to see him. This is the last time, she typed on her phone, Please. She felt so sure he was going to be there. She didn’t mind that it was payday, and all the kids were there to watch another Pixar movie, and that almost all the couples coming in and out of the resto could see her ogling them. She didn’t mind at all. She was sure he wouldn’t stand her up. If he wasn’t going to show up now, she was certain she wouldn’t stop waiting for him.
She took out her cell phone with her right hand and stared at the small LCD. It didn’t light up no matter how many times she tried typing anything on it. “Hey.” “I’m waiting in front of…” “I’m sure you’d like how I’ve done my hair.” “My friend would like to ask if…” “Sssstill heeeere.” “Are you almost here?” “I’m just waiting.” “Hello.”
