Champorado

36

THE months are unbearable.

Jiya wakes up scooted to her side of the bed. Always. Every morning, even though she sleeps on the side once-his the night before.

And then the realization that she lives alone here, she sleeps alone on this too-big bed, seeps in like wine passing the bloodstream.

Jiya feels like a walking corpse in this house. When she comes home after work, eats dinner alone, she hears their giggles and moans and gasps, the whispers and screams of their names, the clumsy footsteps across the flooring when she sees the ghost of her and Migo dancing in the living room to his loud and off-tune singing to that fucking song—"Isayaw mo ako, sa gitna ng ulan, mahal ko...kapalit man nito'y buhay ko..."—they echo all around the house, loud and vibrating.

Migo's laugh isn't here.

Migo isn't here.

Work is a welcome distraction. She feels high of her new title, her booked schedule, the bright faces of her colleagues. Gelo was right—there are nap rooms, and the food tastes better.

She can go to dinner and drink wine with her co-workers and laugh, but then she'd check on her phone every few minutes and ask herself bakit hindi pa nagte-text si Migo. Nasa hospital pa ba siya? Kumain na ba? Is he picking her up?

Elaine wags her eyebrows at her when she checks again for the nth time. "You waiting for someone? Boyfriend?"

And then Jiya will stiffen and Gelo will feel it beside her, and she'll paste a smile on her face and force out, "No." And then she'll ask for a refill and drink until she stops wondering why he hasn't told her not to drink and drive and to be safe and that he loves her. Doon niya lang pinalitan ang wallpaper ng picture nila because she keeps forgetting na—

She keeps forgetting.

And then she'll go back to the house where she lives alone and stain the cushions on the sofa with her tears.

Jiya kept all his notes and their pictures and his gifts tucked inside her bottom drawer in her closet. She found several shirts of his in her luggage that she forgot she packed. She found hoodies and caps and locked them all inside. Caged.

Ganito ba ang gusto niya?

"You know it was the right decision," Van says quietly sa FaceTime nila. "It's not easy, Ji, pero you would've been more miserable if you stayed with him. Mahirap paniwalaan ngayon, pero alam mong you did the right thing for yourself."

Jiya had her beer out and she was ready to just hang out with her girls without thinking of him, without mentioning him, pero sinabi ni Addie while they were laughing, "Tumatanda na ako! Akala ba ni Castillo magiging young and fertile ako forever?"

And then, without thinking, sabi ni Jiya, "Baka mauna pa kami ni Migo sa inyo—"

Her fingers almost dropped the bottle. It was the first time she said his name out loud again. After months.

And then the next thing she knew, she was wrecked again. Crying. Sobbing. Wanting to hurt herself—kasi tama ba 'tong desisyon niya? Paano siya magiging masaya kung wala naman si Migo?

"It's not your fault, Jiya babes," Addie adds quietly, looking guilty. "You did what's best for you."

"I'm selfish," Jiya chokes out, trembling, hugging herself because damn it, wala si Migo dito, wala, wala, putangina, wala siya—"I left him alone."

"You put him first for years, Jiya," Van says fiercely. "Mahal namin si Mi—"

Jiya whimpers.

"Mahal namin siya and kaibigan namin siya," Van continues, jaw tight. "Pero when it came down it, he was going to tie you down with a chain for a ring."