The Angel

I have never loved anyone as much as I have loved you. The first time we met, I was at a loss for words. You have a face that I could gaze at forever. When I found my bearing, I couldn't stop talking, couldn't stop in getting you interested with me. I told you my whole life story in a span of one evening, until they kicked us out of the coffee shop, and we stumbled into the street and went our separate ways. You kept me at arm's length when all I wanted was to be wrapped in them. So I told you things I never told anyone, the darkest parts of me, thinking that I could pull you in with my vulnerability. I laid all my cards on the table, but you pulled out an ace on me. I woke up one day and you were in love. Just not with me.

We die everyday. The moment we step out of our houses, we become sensitive to how the world will see us. We mute our colors and hide the mannerisms that could betray us. We try as hard as possible to be inconspicuous in our words and actions. We look for nuances of what makes a man straight and so we stifle our tendencies and inclinations in order to be like them. We call the men bro or dude  or whatever sounds manly in the offices that we work in.

Took the last flight on a Friday night caught between the last days of summer and the beginning of fall. Made a brief stop at Minneapolis and, while waiting, I got a text message from an unfamiliar number telling me it was you. You were there at the airport as I made my exit and we found our way at the parking lot looking for the rental. We drove for miles beneath the midnight sky, across the vast Bay Area, against the settling fog and the twinkling lights of distant buildings, until we passed the shadows of the mountains and the distance between houses became as wide as the longing in our hearts.

I didn't like him. He was an officemate that I had worked with a couple of times on late-night projects. The years passed and he moved to another country for work. I saw him in the newsfeed of my Facebook. That's how I was updated about him, because he posted regularly. But he was an acquaintance, much like all the former officemates of ours who have either remained in the old company or moved on to different ones. It was a chance encounter on a street where I was standing, a little lost and looking for a coffee shop nearby, when a car stopped by--and he stepped out. It was like I had seen a ghost. I didn't know he was back.

I picked up the scattered toys that my niece left on the floor. There were Lego blocks built on top of each other with no concept of a design. A toy train and a truck that she had crashed against each other just earlier in the day. There was a wind-up toy with its whirring sound that amused her until it stopped; three dolls with two of their heads popped off their bodies. The doorbell buzzed and I didn't have to check who it was. I knew it was you.