She first belonged to Le Beau’s older brother. I remember seeing this car for the first time in 2004. They picked us up — me and my cousin — from the house in Elizabeth for a movie night.
He said my cousin was teasing him about me, even before I arrived in New Jersey. He was hesitant; he was already chatting up a girl and it was going well. He caught a glimpse of me from the front door.
We, plus the middle brother and another good friend, caught Man on Fire at Loews. He sat a couple of seats away from me. It was a great movie.
After, he and his brother drove my cousin and I back to Elizabeth. We were at the back seat. He casually said, “You smell nice.” It was oddly weird. Or adorably weird. I think it was more of the latter because three days later, we got together. A year after, it was his turn to fly to Manila and spend a month with my family.
It ended a few more months after that visit. We tried to be friends at first but it never really worked out. I constantly checked on him from time to time, as networking moved from Friendster to Facebook. He seemed good. I stopped checking.
A year after breaking up, his brother married my cousin. We were paired up in the entourage. I was with someone else already.
Seven years later, two weeks after I buried my father, he came back to Manila, with his brother, my cousin and their daughter for a short visit. Three days later, he asked why we we’re not together. When he left after 10 days, I realized I never really answered that question.
My seven-year relationship ended bitterly and dirtily. I cried too long, he kept me company. As much as he was helping me through the breakup, he was still asking why we’re not together.
I tried to date around, but he was still there, asking why we’re not together.
I was in the middle of graduate school, and he kept asking. He was persistent. Consistent. Like a man with a mission.
Before that year ended, he asked again, “Why are we not together?” I finally replied, “I have no idea.” Then, it was like 2004 all over again.
Fifteen weeks later, while walking out of the baggage claim area in Charles de Gaulle Airport, I saw him again. It was the best surprise of my life.
Two academic terms and pile after pile of workload after, I stare at my computer screen with unbelieving eyes. MNL NRT DTW JFK.
Six days. And I get to see him with Buggy again.
I have been looking for an opportunity to tell this story in this blog because this is the happiest I have ever been in my entire life. I would liked to thank the Daily Post for inspiring me.
And to my readers, may the Buggy you deserve come (back) to you. :)