J has calmed down considerably (see previous post). Now that she seems like she's more rational, the calls are actually something I look forward to. They don't call every night any more. Ok lang naman yan sa akin. Umabot na kasi sa point na hindi na ako lumalabas sa gabi para lang siguradong andito ako sa bahay kapag tumawag nga sila. Hindi naman sa naiinis na ako sa kuya ni J, o kay J mismo, dahil biglang nagbago ang mga schedule ko dahil sa mga tawag nila. Hindi rin naman ako nagrereklamo kapag sinisigawan na ako ni J (oo, kung minsan sinisigawan n'ya rin ako dahil siguro sa frustrations n'ya sa mga tao o kaya sa sarili n'ya). I really don't mind. I understand that she's just scared, and that she probably feels really alone right now. So I just let her shout at me. After she's done doing that, she always apologizes anyway.

But, yes, she's calmed down. She seems (sounds) like she's doing much better. One of our recent talks made me think a lot about my own life. It's funny the way that happens sometimes. Sometimes something that seems like such a small thing makes you stop and think about your own life, makes you take stock.

I had been out the night we had that conversation. They weren't supposed to call that night, and I wanted to take that opportunity to just get out of the house for a while. And it had been a while-- since I'd gone out, I mean. So naturally, I got rather drunk. I don't remember how many beers I had. I only know that I got home early. Well...pretty early for me anyway. It was just after 1 when the phone rang.

***

J's Brother: Oh good, you're still up.

Me: Oo. Kakauwi ko lang. I thought you weren't going to call tonight.

J's Brother: Sorry about that. J was insistent. Short lang naman daw. May sasabihin lang yata sa 'yo.

Me: Ok. No prob.

J's Brother: Salamat ha? Not just for taking the call tonight. For everything. I know I've been a bit of a jerk about all this, but I'm really grateful.

Me: Ok lang yan. You know I love J too.

J's Brother: Yeah. (a pause) Ok. Here she is.

J: Hello. (her voice sounds a little hoarse. i seem to detect a smile on the other end of the line. in my mind, all of a sudden, i picture the stairwell at the university i went to. there was a certain time of day that the sunlight would hit the top of the stairs making them look like they were slanting a little. the shadows they would cast would always be soft shades of blue-gray.)

Me: Hey. How are you feeling today? (i always start off with this question when we talk because i really don't know what else to say. i guess i'm just awkward that way. i mean, i never know how to keep conversations going. somehow, they just dwindle on me.)

J: I'm better. Much better. I still feel like the roof is going to cave in on me at any moment, but I've learned to live with it. No, I'm not paranoid. It's more of a physical feeling. Like everything above my neck has become so heavy. Hindi naman masakit. Just heavy. But I'm happier today.

Me: That's good to hear. (i pause to take a deep breath.) Sorry ha? Medyo lasing na ako. Hindi ko sinabi sa Manong mo. I'm fine naman. I can listen to you if you want to just talk. Sorry.

J: (a pause) That's ok. (she chuckles softly) I just wanted to tell you something lang naman. This is what I wanted to say: (another pause, as if she were composing the words in her head.) I'm very grateful for all the nights you take my calls. And I'm sorry that when I get upset at myself, I end up taking it out on you. I don't mean to do it. I know I could choose to act differently. I'm really trying. (she sighs.) I take it out on kuya too, and on everyone around me. I hate that I do that. I really do. Because I know it's not me. Not the me you knew back then, anyway. Not the me that I once knew. So I really want to work on getting better. (at this point, she starts crying again. i imagine her sitting by a window, a flock of birds flying past in the sky outside. i imagine gray clouds and the silhouettes of branches.) What I'm trying to say is, I know how much you've been patient with me. I know how much you care about me. And I know it must make you sad to hear me this way. So if there's anything you need to talk about, if there's ever anything you need to get off your chest, if you ever feel sad or alone, I'll listen to you too. I know that you have your own shit to deal with. I know you hide a lot of the things you feel from those around you. But you don't have to hide it from me. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it together. I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere.

Me: (i pause for a beat, and take this in. here's a woman who has endured the kind of pain i will probably never experience in my lifetime. the kind that is senseless because it is senseless. the kind of sadness that is maddening because often you don't know where it stems from. i can't imagine it. i can only guess at how difficult it must be. here she is, offering to be my sounding board whenever i need one. my shoulder to cry on. my confidant. amazing. she's just so much stronger that she knows. i want to tell her this, i want to tell her that she's going to be ok, that she's already on her way to getting better, but i don't. i want to tell her all i've kept pent up inside me, but i don't.) Thank you. I know. I'm here for you too.

J: (her voice brightens up again.) My doctor says that if I make progress, I can probably take a trip later this year. I can go home for a visit. Can you believe it? It's something for me to hold on to. I really do want to see the rest of the family, and you, of course. Manong thinks it's a good idea, but that I shouldn't get my hopes up until it's definite. I don't care about that. It'll happen. I'll make sure I'll be better by then. It gives me something to work toward. You know what I mean?

Me: Yeah. That's great J! Sana nga makauwi ka.

J: Yeah. Ok. That's what I wanted to say. I'll talk to you in a few days then. Good night na. Matulog ka na. Before you sleep pala, uminom ka muna ng tubig. Baka magka-hangover ka.

Me: (i laugh.) Thanks. Yeah, I'll do that. Good night.

J: Good night.

***

She put the phone down after that. I kept the phone receiver to my ear for another minute or so. I just listened to the drone of the dial tone. The only thing repeating in my brain: J could be coming home. Oh God, what do I do? How do I tell her I love her.

I know I've been silent for a long time. I have no excuses. Only stories.


__________________________________________________


Right before I stopped posting, I received a call regarding a friend of mine. This friend. We've known each other for years now. Nearly two decades. She's probably only one of three people who really get me. I haven't seen her in years though, as she now makes her home halfway around the world. We stay in touch as often as we can. But you know how it goes, right? Days pass. Then weeks. Then before you know it, it's been almost a year since you speak to someone. We all grow apart from each other in many different ways, and like the sand on the shore, we're constantly being pulled in by the undertow, tossed by the current that is our life.

"Things happen," I told myself. And while that may be true, it's also true that we have a choice in the first place, of whether or not we want to stay in someone's life, whether or not we want to be present and show up and do the work of making our relationships work. With my friend - and let's call her J by the way, so there's less confusion - I did try. In the beginning.

It was tough for me to see her leave. It's been what? My goodness. It's been over 10 years now since the last time I saw her. I still remember that last time. She'd shaved her head in protest because she really didn't want to leave. But what could she have done? Her entire family was leaving and there was no way in hell her father was ever going to let her stay behind. I remember how I rubbed my palm against her scalp, how the stubble beneath my skin felt like sand, how I wished I did have a bit of sand at that moment. I don't really know why. I also remember that it's the saddest I had ever felt at that point. Of course now, I've had more experiences, I've grown. Now I know how pain is like one of those annoying relatives we wish we would never visit, but they show up at our doorsteps time and time again. I've had my share of it, like everyone else. So yeah, I know.

J and I wrote to each other. Real letters, on paper, in envelopes - words that would spill out like water. I always had so much to tell her, and she always had volumes to tell me. In a way, that's how I came to fall in love with writing. I began to long for the waiting: the anticipation of the next letter, and of course I never knew when would it would come. And then after a year, I began to dread it. So I stopped writing. She called a few times, I made the usual excuses. I still promised I'd keep in touch. And so the years went by. We'd talk a couple of times a year, on Christmas and that kind of shit. I went on with my life, and she with hers. We exchanged email addresses. I updated her from time to time. Then all of a sudden, exactly 8 months ago she stopped replying. I wrote her a long email. You know, my attempt at making up for all the years I'd been lax in my correspondence, but she still didn't reply.

Then, a few weeks ago I get a call from her older brother (who never really liked me to begin with, who always saw me as the guy out to corrupt J with his disregard for "the norm"). He told me that for the past year, J has been (in his words) in limbo. I found out that for the past five years J has been seeing a shrink because she'd been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I was shocked, and that's putting it mildly. She never let on in the notes she wrote me. She never gave any sign that anything was wrong. Her brother told me that J had tried to overdose, that she had been in the hospital. He told me that when she came to, she was incoherent for the most part, that she would just let loose a rambling stream of syllables, but that when she became lucid the only person she asked for was me. I didn't know how to feel about that. I still don't. Actually, her brother didn't seem too happy about that. But there it was, he called me to let me know, to tell me that they'd taken her home already and to ask me if he could call me the next day when he was with her, because he thought it might help.

What else could I have said? I said yes, of course. So every day since I got that call, I've been staying up late, so I can be there when he calls. He passes the phone to her. Some days she talks, some days she just listens, mostly she just sobs and it breaks my heart. I've never had to deal with anyone in that kind of state before. I am used to dealing with anger, and violence, and hate. I am not used to the sadness that seems to have taken over her body. Some days I tell her about my work. Some days I read some of the stories I've been working on to her. Yesterday, I made her laugh, and I felt a little spark of hope. After I talk to J, I talk to her brother. He tells me what it's like, how terribly tiring it is to be around her sometimes. He tells me that she gets so violent sometimes that he has to hold her, pin her arms behind her back until he feels that she's calm. He tells me he's grateful to me for taking the time to talk to her. I don't know how to feel about that either. No, I do know, somewhat. I feel like a fraud. I feel that there's so much more I could have done for her if I had just kept in touch. They'll be calling later. I'll answer. A part of me dreads having to hear her empty voice on the other end of the line, but I won't put the phone down. I'll talk and talk, and I'll try as hard as I can to fill that empty space with words so that maybe she'll find enough strength to see that she has words of her own to hurl at the darkness.