After all, it's been a long time since our last encounter and he is married today.
Perhaps it's because I just waken from my dormant, I begin to remember.
I begin to remember those have been buried intentionally again.
It's not healthy to dwell in the past. But from time to time, you can learn from your past.
Strange as it may sound, history does tend to repeat itself but with slight variation.
What I experience today with this guy perhaps is the trigger to unlock those memories I had with him.
You never know what you can discover from your past.
That's a surprise.
Not many people really know what happened to us.
We always have this weird relationship.
He is the only one that I feel safe enough to fall asleep at passage seat.
Even when he rides his bike with 120 Km per hour, I could fall asleep at back seat, with my head rest on his right shoulder but not hanging on to his waist.
Of course, no one knows about this but two of us.
Not even his girl friend then, wife now, aware of my existence.
There was this time, 11:25PM, he called and said he would pick me up in 20 minutes and hung up.
I just grabbed my ID and wallet and went downstairs.
No question asked, I just got on his bike and rode with him.
I just let him take me to places.
That was the only hour we could go out together because both of us were way too popular (well-known) in the neighborhood.
The whole night, we didn't have a conversation.
At some occasions, he would take me to this jazz club he likes.
I would just watch him drink, and look at his red eyes from the dark corner I sat.
It's always after midnight, so he wouldn't be seen with me.
Somehow, I don't know if this kind of night out is for his own comfort or for my own good sake.
I was in a fairly bad shape as well. The school was terrible to me and I did need get out of that study den of mine.
I am not a club goer, except with him.
That was 9 years ago.
December 1996.
I had no way to know where his about. I sent a postcard, with my return flight date.
30 hours before my departure, he called and said, he would pick me up in 5 hours.
He was in city K and I was in city T.
As usual, he took me to another jazz bar.
We talked this time.
Maybe he noticed I probably wouldn't come back any time soon.
In fact, he couldn't ask me to stay.
He said to me he only feels peaceful with me.
I still believe he said that to ease my pain. After all, it was me who pushed him away.
Last time I met him, December 2000. He was married that year.
I was surprised none of our mutual friends know about this big event.
He is the oldest grandson in the house, and he is the SON of the wife, not the mistress.
He took 3 hours train to meet me, and I emptied a block of time for him.
Just like good old days, without jazz bar but Thursday afternoon Starbucks.
Bittersweet coffee instead of Jack Daniel he drank.
I looked at his tiring eyes from my usual dark corner quietly.
And I waved him adieu at subway station.
I watched him leave and he saw me stood there until the end.
No major conversation; no catch up, as usual.
I still remember the late night outing, riding bike with him, had my head rest on his right shoulder.
Perhaps that's why I always like to roll down the windows and open moon roof, just to let wind brush my hair.
And I never scare of high speed driving.
Thanks to him.
I never really put down writing about this piece of memory.
It's not a bitter memory, no hate, no sorrow, and no regret.
It's just a piece of memory that I would choose to lock it away or review it from time to time.
I never really know what I am to him, just like I have no way to figure out what I am to this particular guy.
And yet again, what purpose will it serve to know all about these?
But I will remember what he said to me, he feels peaceful with me.