He was just my best buddy, and yet he remained until now as my first love.

Eric. That was his name. We have been friends ever since I could remember.

We were the inseparable kids in our block. I played house with him when we were seven. He beat me up in chess when I was twelve. We shared a skateboard when we were seventeen. I've been with him all my life that I don't even know what life is without him.

He was the sweetest guy I've ever known. He was thoughtful, cheerful, understanding, sweet and kind - most of all he was a gentleman. I have adored him since long ago that I couldn't even remember when I fell for him.

I just woke up one day from a nice dream, a fantasy of him and me together in a faraway land. I loved him already. I don't know how and why. It just happened.

I thought that one day we would end up together. That he must be meant for me. That maybe, just maybe, I was the Ariel of whom he would be willing to die for. I enveloped my heart with a fantasy that I thought would come true at the right time and at the right place.

And then I turned nineteen.

We were not the same kids who only wore immaculate white lingeries while playing anymore. We were not the same teenagers who would wrestle with each other when one had beaten up the other in a game of checkers or scrabble. We were not the same punks who gave trouble to our parents just because we are always at the park at night, rolling our boards.

We grew to be more responsible individuals. Yet, we were still the same old buddies.

"What's that?", I asked one day. As usual, I entered his room without even knocking. It was wide open anyway so there's no need to knock.

He was doing origami. He was cutting bright colored specialty papers into squares and folding it into cranes.

"Uh? Hey, you're here?", he said without looking at me. "It's, um, nothing. Just nothing. Some, um, projects at school."

Ding!

There was something fishy with what he said. With all the ums in between his sentences, I thought he was lying. But why would he lie over something like that?

"You're lying."

He looked at me, and looked away again.

"Why would I lie? What would I lie about?", he declared.

"I don't know." I said, fixing my gaze on him. "You tell me."

"It's true!", he exclaimed. "This is really my project!"

I gazed at him for a moment before answering, "Okay. If you say so."

I fell silent for a while. I knew there was something wrong. I just couldn't point a finger to what it was. Besides, I felt cheated. I really thought that there were no secrets kept between the two of us.

He sighed softly, yet I can still hear it.

"By the way, I have something to talk to you about." He said. "I can't attend the Homecoming with you this Saturday."

I was shocked, and disappointed. Our high school Alumni Homecoming was supposed to become a memorable event since he would be my date for the night. I was looking forward to it because I would be wearing a black evening cocktail dress. Because I was boyish in the way I act, I want him to see me as a woman even just once.

"Why?"

"I will be taking flight lessons at school over the weekends." He explained. "I need to catch up on my flight time so that I will be able to graduate next year. I will be sleeping over at my friend's house so that I could cut off my expenses for the transportation."

Yeah, right. He was a soon-to-be pilot. It was his dream, ever since we were kids. He already told me weeks ago that he still lacks flight time, a graduation requirement that entails being able to pilot successfully a real plane in a real-time situation with a given time duration. By the way, he was actually the best man I've seen wearing the white pilot dress.

Though I understood him, it sucked. It was supposed to be a memorable night.

"Yeah, it's fine." I said, forcing a smile. "Don't worry about me."

Then the weekend came like a fast, wheezing bullet. He was already many kilometers away from me, here in the city. I attended the Homecoming, in respect for my batchmates who organized the event. But, my heart was not there at the party. I already left it somewhere.

I chatted with my friends from high school. We updated ourselves with what happened with whom, who ended up with who, and topics of the sort. The festivity of the evening was starting to rub on to me.

I still remembered my friends from high school. Andy, the fat guy in our class but now a soon-to-be Knowledge Engineer. Marcus, our class president who will inherit his father's business. Yna, the cutest and most demure gal in our pack, now to become a flight stewardess. Therese, the smartest of us, became Yna's best friend in college.

There's also the acquaintances from the other class. Johan, my ex-suitor in third year. Pat, the president of the student council. Mel, the SGO Treasurer, who worked hand-in-hand with Eric who was the Auditor at that time.

There were a lot of them.

When I got home, I kicked off my pair of sandals. I was too tired to even crawl upstairs to my room. I fell asleep peacefully on the sofa at our sala.

Morning came, and I heard my mom waking me up. She was tapping my face violently.

"Wakeup!"

I opened my eyes dreamily. What could it be now? Am I on the way of her cleaning? Or do we have visitors and I need to go up to my room now?

"What is it mom?", I asked while slowly helping myself up.

"Here," my mom passed me a newspaper. She looked worried. "I don't want to tell you, but I think you should know."

I opened it appropriately. I started reading the news staring right into my face.

CEBU CITY, Philippines – Amid the exodus of Orient Pearl Airlines pilots, a student pilot died yesterday morning when a two-seater Cessna 152 trainer airplane crashed while landing at the Mactan Airport here.

The pilot of the plane Captain Glen Pedraja suffered minor injuries and is now being treated at the Philippine Military Academy Hospital. The less fortunate student pilot Eric Espinosa died two hours after being rushed to the hospital.

Cebu City...

Student pilot...

Died...

Eric...

I felt suffocated. These are all not true. It's just a prank, right?

He's not yet dead. He's just here.

I stood up from the sofa. Still wearing my dress, I ran as fast as I could. I can feel the hot stream of tears flowing from both of my eyes. It was blurring my sight, yet I kept going.

Why him? It's not true! I won't accept it!

He's not yet dead. He's just here.

I couldn't breathe anymore. Not because I was running, but because I can now slowly feel the searing pain of my heart being torn into two. It was as if someone was forcing open my heart. It was painful... extremely painful.

I slowed down when I was near Eric's house. He was not at the terrace doing his morning routines. His mother was not at the garden watering their plants. Instead, I saw police cars in front of their lawn and an officer talking to his older brother.

His brother saw me standing a few steps away from them. I saw the pained expression in his eyes. And then, he looked away.

I knew he was dead.

 

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