War Games

It all started when I called to ask her out for dinner. We are to meet at SM Ayala, which is just an MRT ride from Quezon City and a jeepney ride from her office in Makati.

I came a little less than fifteen minutes late, thanks to the heavy downpour of rain in Quezon City. She was already waiting at the exit of the Ayala station, with her usual fuming look whenever I get late for a date with her. "I hate wasting my time", she would always say.

 

But when I approached her, she was just as fine as a sweet friend and she told me that we first stroll around Glorietta since she had just eaten her snack. I was, in fact, still full because I have this habit of eating a light meal before I go to a date with her, just in case we decided not to eat and watch a movie instead. So off we go, hunting for anything that will satisfy the craving for material things that the best shopping malls can offer.

 

After a few minutes walking around, I felt that something was wrong with her. This damn instinct of mine never failed me from knowing what she might be thinking. She was bothered by the same things that make us vulnerable from the bitter realities of life, and I hate it when she gives those ideas much thought. I asked her to cheer up, to no avail. She ruined my idea of a perfect night after a bad day of taking my worst exam this semester. I failed to bring her back to her senses, so we ate with no right words coming out of both our mouths. It was really awkward for two people who know each other for almost nine years now, and it was not a pretty sight.

 

Things did not end there. We were already in a heated conversation about not exaggerating the issues at hand as we enter the MRT station, and we again failed to keep our tempers to standard conditions. We were almost shouting as we waited impatiently for the train, and we keep on staring each other as if we were mortal enemies in a stupid teledrama. I tried hard to concentrate on what I should have to say to ease the tension, but I was lost for words. I was very disappointed with what happened that I wished I never should have had called her in the first place.

 

She got off at Shaw, but I was still in a trance even after I made the exit at Quezon Avenue. I was already in the dormitory when I recovered my senses. It was eleven in the evening.

 

After months of ceasefire, the peace pact was broken... again.