“I have no use for them now.”
He rummaged through all the shoe boxes inside his closet, every nook and cranny of his disorderly room, up to the ceiling floors which he used as his safety-deposit area for his cash savings, looking for the repository of his younger memories, letters and assorted mementos he kept as souvenirs, evidence that once he loved a girl.
Unable to locate what he searched for, he sat down on the bed, arguing with himself why suddenly he was too anxious to revisit the sad chapters of his unpopular book of love.
“Why should I care?” he mumbled. “If she’s back, so what?”
Of course, he did not know it. He was in some form of self-denial, rebuking what his heart tried to tell his brain, forcing himself to let bygones be bygones.
However, for the past hour, he stayed listless. He could not find the exact position to make himself more comfortable in bed. He even rearranged the pillows, changed the blanket and the mosquito net to remove the bad vibes that he believed had taken over him.
Still, something bugged him. Damn insect!
He stood up and wore back his shirt which he normally removed before sleeping. Minimal wear at night was a must: it could be so warm that clothes would be soaked with perspiration during sleep. Turning on the electric fan to cool himself was not an option: it could overheat and start a fire.
There’s the TV, he thought, approaching it. Perhaps, a movie or a long video could make him drowsy.
As he watched the music video channel, he kept on slapping parts of his upper body especially his arms and neck. Outside the mosquito net, he was fair game for persistent mosquitoes that landed and pricked his uncovered skin.
Once again, he felt nostalgic, remembering his happy moments, trying to capture the girl of his dreams. Time went too fast when back then he was figuratively a busy bee, circling around her as his chosen flower, keeping her company all the time, lest another bee came closer and drove him away.
To his surprise, it was not another bee but the flower itself which became the problem.
She blew hot and cold. At first, accepting him, then rejection. Then, the second time around, she lifted his spirits to high heavens before cutting off his wings and sending him to hell. She toyed with him and played him in her palm.
“That was a long time ago, Rusty!” he told himself, shaking off the memories as if they were too easy to dispose off like trash. “You got over her.”
He deposited himself inside the mosquito net and under the blanket. His confused emotions for the day had to be swept aside like what he successfully did before. From tomorrow hence, no more remembering the past, especially those connected to her.
“Yeah! Uncle Tom was right,” he convinced himself. “I need some company.”
With eyes closed, he mentally reviewed from his registry of female faces someone who could be a candidate for his renewed effort to find love. After so many tries, unfortunately, Wendy’s image still stood out.
“No, not you!” he exclaimed. “You won’t break my heart for the third time.”
(to be continued)