Story: Memento by Lesly Bries

Memento

by Lesly Bries

We were supposed to meet in a while. Five minutes and thirty seconds to be exact. You were early.
I would be a little late, just so you wouldn't suspect anything.

You were at the first floor, humming your favorite bossa nova song to yourself, while I watched from above, drinking lemonade and flicking nicotine-tinged ash at the ledge. You were wearing a blue Beatles shirt--and the last time you wore it was two weeks ago. I know how you tuck in the ends of your laces to the zigzag railroad of your sneakers so they won't come undone. I know you don't put milk in your breakfast cereal. I know you use rosemary-sandalwood soap because I saw the empty, damp box in the recycling bin in your house.
We talk for a few minutes about upcoming exams, good bands, politics and the latest headline. I know you named your dog Zephyr because of a Red Hot Chili Peppers song. I know you secretly cry to "The Ice Is Getting Thinner" when you think nobody can see you because it reminds you of your ex-girlfriend. I know you hate using a straw when you drink soda because you don't like feeling bloated afterwards. But you don't know that I know these things. You don't realize that I can see what other people can't, and one day you'll find out and you will fucking fall in love with me. I just know it.
The whole time we've been hanging out, I remain calm but friendly. This is to keep you from uncovering my plan. It's too early. Not just yet. Not just yet. We part ways, say our see-you-tomorrows, and you walk toward the jeepney stop, while I watch, wait and follow from a distance.
When you step out of the jeepney and walk to your house, you pass by her family's old apartment. I know you pause for a few minutes and glance at the windows, hoping to see her there. Hoping that she will say something wonderful and you will say something wonderful back and everything will be just wonderful, wonderful, wonderful again.
But you won't. Because I sent her letters to warn her if she ever so much as happened to be in the same building as you. She didn't believe me at first.
She believes me now.
Your time of observing and wishful thinking passes, and you keep walking. Your brother is home, and he is cursing while trying to fix the electric fan. In a while, you'll be opening your schoolbag, taking out your notebooks and working on your drafting assignment. Then you'll be idly watching whatever it is that's on TV, going through the channels like they're Kleenex.
When you're done, you look at NBA scores on the internet, talk to some friends and then look at her Facebook page. We're exactly the same that way, you and I.

We only watch out for the ones we love. We're not so different. Someday you'll come around and you'll see me watching you. And you will love me because I am the only one who understands and knows you.
The only one.