Crush in a Million

I had been gushing over his picture for a week already. It was kept firmly pressed in between pages of an old Archie Double Digest, far from the prying (usisera) eyes of my mom. I was 13 then, the typical adolescent made extra rebellious by the parental ban on having crushes.

My yaya, who was very resourceful, made friends with the neighbor's maid and eventually got ahold of his picture -- a full-body shot, in shorts and a t-shirt, sitting on a stool jar typical of households whose folks either once went to Hong Kong, Bangkok, Singapore or Zamboanga's Barter Trade.

It found solace under my pillow each night, in hopes that it would penetrate my dreams at one point and I could finally say "hi".

We had met at house parties before. I used to believe we were destined to be together, with them 3 boys in the family and my having two sisters. When I think about it now and ride the juvenilia, all of us could have been made for each other. Being an adolescent, I was too keen on looking out for so-called signs, I overshot.

Oddly, we only went as far as nodding when our parents would remind us of each other's existence. "Oh, Ness, si Jay-Jay!" After which, I would retreat to my room, which was no help by the way, as other kids have already found refuge there among the toys. Well, at least, he wasn't there.

His picture was of the cheap sort. What could I expect? His maid probably stole the least noticeable one lest she be accused of lusting after her own "alaga". The help were ecstatic! They were playing matchmaker to their surrogate children.

He, however, did not show any sign of admiration toward me. Not even a second glance or a follow-up nod. And when I displayed myself infront of m house, pretending to be engrossed in my bike, he saw through. I was invisible.

Still convinced that we were destined, I had to exercise vigilance. Perhaps he was just oo shy to come up to me. I had been reading too much of Sweet Valley Twins. I was the Elizabeth. He was my Todd Wilkins. In my world, that is. Nevertheless, I pleaded my yaya to ask him what he felt for me. I was so sure he felt the same way. (I look back at 22 and I can't help but guffaw. haha)

Her face was sullen when she returned, but all I could see was a young woman trying to suppress excitement. How powerful infatuation is, it blinds you! I almost bounded on her to get the juicy details. Finally, him and I would go past the candy looks and start talking serious business. My name attached to his floated slowly over me. I held my breath.

"Ne, dili ka daw niya gusto kay taba ka daw."

Hmm... did I say he was monstrously ugly?