Soap Bubble

The first time I saw you, you were crying.

With your little body crumpled in the midst of the summer heat, I found you. Your clothes were tattered and torn in places; blood and dirt mixed in scattered spots. Your little shoulders shook with every stuttering breath you took, and I was genuinely afraid for you.

So I took your fists away from your face and gave you the flowers I brought for my parents. You didn’t smile back at me; but I felt warmth spread behind your glassy eyes.

You’re so frail, so sickly beautiful.

And I fell in love instantly.

We became best friends.

I know what you knew, you do what I did. We spent most of our time together.

But there’s one thing that I couldn’t, and can’t do; and that is to touch you.

For some reasons, you would cower or ran away wildly whenever I pat your head or accidently brushed your hand;  genuine fear passed through your eyes, making them glassy with unshed tears; and always, I’ll froze in fear that you’ll be crying like that time, long ago.

Thankfully, you didn’t.

You’ll just grin like a silly girl you are and continue where we left off, wherever it is; and from then on I learnt to adore you only with my eyes. The beautiful, frail you, which always floats away from my hand.

I struggled so hard to keep my hand in check; just to stop you from disappearing by my touch,

like a soap bubble.

Then suddenly we were going separated ways; for the first time, I go to a different school, a medical university you didn’t attend to, and things were getting hectic with all the stuff I needed to learn, all the friends I met.

Maybe that was why I didn’t realize that we were slowly drifting apart.

Every time we met, I ended up spilling all experiences I’ve gone through, and feeling happy for the silent smile you gave to me. If only I paid a little attention, maybe I would realize that your eyes were becoming glassy, just like that time in the smoldering heat.

At one point in my final term, I became so fed up with things and decided suddenly to go and find you, wherever you are. Going to your university, I learnt that you were not enrolled; there’s no name as yours in the student’s log. “Maybe you’re mistaken?” the attendant had asked, and I had answered stubbornly, “No.”

I had remembered like it was yesterday, how your eyes sparkled brightly when you knew that you were accepted to that university. I long to wrap my arms around you and hugged you tight till you can’t breathe, but I know that I can’t. So I gulped, hard, and whooped and yaayed with you while banging my empty cola can to the park bench we were seated in.

Then after I checked and re-checked but still can’t find your name, I stomped in anger to find you; to ask so many why, why, why that I didn’t even know which one should be asked first.

As I stand before your house, I realized just how I was never allowed to come play back when we were still giggling youths.

I had a hunch that maybe it had something to do with our gender difference; but then I swat it away when I found that you prefer to come and mingle with my parents at my house. When I sent you home once, for it was too late for a girl to go back alone, I buried all my hope to visit your house as a guest; because your house had such brooding, lonely feel that made goosebumps appear in various places of my body. I even felt that your Father’s face held some sinister light when he came to get you inside;  I felt you became rigid when his hands touched your shoulder and thought that you were  afraid because you were late; so I apologized that I held you too long at my house and turn away before meeting your eyes, feeling sorry. Now and then I do wonder how your face looked like when you saw my back retreating that night.

But that’s then, and this is now, and I needed to see you.

So I gathered my courage and knock; but nobody was coming.

A little irked, I try to turn the door’s knob; and gasped silently when it opened. The door is unlocked. So maybe you were home. Without any thoughts, I walked inside- tip toeing unconsciously, for I felt that I’ve broken inside your house without any permission.

Slowly, slowly, I made my way towards the stairs; you told me once that your room was on the second story of your house, so you can see the town clearly if you ever opened your windows. If you squinted, you even may have seen my house, you had said. I grin a little when I remember your cheeky expression back then. But suddenly I heard something rustled, and the grin died.

What is it, I thought. More rustles, then slow gasps, and some soft curses. Putting my feet away from the last stair, I realized that the sounds came from the room just beyond the hall. Still tip-toeing, I made my way; and peeked.

There I saw you, hands limply hanging from your bed; with your Father looming over your body.

“Too tight-“your Father cursed, and your body rocks ever so slowly, glassy eyes looking everywhere but not anywhere in particular.

Suddenly our eyes were locked; then your eyes were not as glassy anymore.

I can see your mouth formed an O of surprise, and traces of tears that were threatened anew with the ones spilling from your eyes. Blinded with rage, I stormed inside and fling your Father away; bits and pieces about him starts to spill inside my brain.

Your Mother had died the first time we met, you had said. You were living only with your Father. That little grim smile you made. The way you would cringe silently whenever your Father put a casual hand on your head, your shoulder, by your waist. How your eyes turned glassy whenever you got the mail telling you to “Come home, Father is worried.”..

Over and over, my fists connected with your father’s body, face, arms, everywhere; and just before I beat him into a bloodied pulp, I heard the softest whisper of “I’m sorry..” and turned around in a flash.

There you are, messy, eyes glassy, and so beautiful; sitting by the windowsill, the sunlight made it difficult to see clearly. Just when I raised my hand to reach, you smiled with face full of tears; a flicker of time wiped that glassy look off your eyes.

“I love you.”

Then you leaned,

out of the window.

However much I ran, I was not fast enough; even though I lengthen my arm to be able to catch you in a harsh hug; even though I screamed so loud I felt my lungs burst;

You flew away, frail, and beautiful, sparkling in the sunlight;

And when your body connected with the ground, all I can hear was a soft voice;

Pop.