An Empty Room and a Taxi Ride Home

by Yas Jayson Tuesday, April 21, 2009 10 palagay

Afternoon.

I decided to come home to Marikina by Sunday evening. But I found my self sitting in a barber's chair having my hair cut. It was raining, quite wierdy for a week of hellish summer heat. I got soaked in the rain. Nevermind.

The next thing I knew, I was curling in my room alone, bored with Jessica Zafra's Twisted 6.

Then I slumbered. With plans in my head to wake up by 6:30 PM, go to the shop were I will ask for a replacement of a non-functional card reader, then hear Mass in the village chapel by 7:30.

The next thing I knew, it was already 7:50 when I awoke. The alarm clock already tires of snoozing. Dead hungry of the day's work.

I got up, washed my face, cleaned my glasses, tucked my almost empty wallet in to my shortpants then went to the shop in the nearby mall.

The next thing I knew, the saleslady already went home. The shop closed. Me pissed off.

Bought my favorite Nova Summer Salad junky , went to the nearby net shop to upload pictures to my multiply account. And because of the bad weather, the electricity went off then on then off. Madly, I asked the owner how much is my rent. Went out of the cafe.

The next thing I knew it was past eleven. Rain heavy pouring. No umbrella. Numb with cold.

I managed to grab a tricycle. Upon reaching the apartment, I saw Jeff packing most of his things because he's also going back home somewhere in Baclaran by next week. Up in the room, there was Tom, deep in his slumber.

My things are still in its place the way I left them. The unfixed bed, the hanging clothes, scattered books and dust, the overflowing laundry bin, the more overflowing ashtray Tom and I are too lazy to empty. The scene is almost perfect. It is almost home.

Then the next thing I knew, I was packing all my clothes in no-manner, only sorting used from the clean ones. I put all my books in a container, folded my beddings, cleaned the space that was now empty. Its just then that I realized, I have a handful of possesion.

[...]

Jeff's brother came with a pick-up. I was really planning to hitch since we have the [almost same way. But his things filled the whole trunk. No choice, I have to stick to plan A. Get a taxi ride home.

I asked them to give me a ride up to the village entrance so that I can fill my tummy. Lucky as I am, all karinderya and eatery are closed. No choice. I have to go home hungry.

I grabbed a taxi and return to the apartment, load my things up, give the place a last glimpse, turned off the lights and locked the door.

Then the next thing I knew, I was on my way home. Clutching my back pack. Practicing how to knock on the familiar and welcoming door.

At last, almost home.