Close Encounters of the Third Kind

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“It’s not that they’re hard of hearing but that they’re hard of listening.”
-- JoyLuck Club by Amy Tan
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Encounter 1
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Life in the office is pretty dull, especially in the afternoons when it takes 10-minute intervals in between calls. Most often, I get prank callers who want me to voice out ebonic hip hop greetings, enunciate their libidinal depravity with gusto, and on one occasion, to declare my horniness as an operator. In which case, I’d politely decline and ask my supervisor to terminate the idiocy. Otherwise, in those 10-minute intervals, I’d be reading through The JoyLuck Club by Amy Tan, an attempt on my part to keep myself awake WHILE reestablishing my roots as a non-dynastic Chinese person of the third generation. The attempt to keep awake doesn’t work all the time so it’s a good thing I take my B-Complex vitamins after eating lunch.
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Since I started work a couple of weeks ago, I was well aware of a particular supervisor’s keen interest in me. Let’s call the supervisor by the name of Joy, to keep my end of the confidentiality agreement.
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When I was still a trainee, Joy knew my surname, asked me where I finished college, and even knew the street where I lived. I’d reply with smiles because I’ve always felt the need to be courteous even if it’s uncomfortable. In the week I formally started working, Joy started to send me text messages.
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“I’d like us to be friends.”
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“I’d like us to sit down and talk, get to know each other better.”
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“Are you mad at me?”
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“Why are you not replying? Did I offend you?”
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“The truth is I like you, Ennui. I won’t grow old thinking about you.”
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“It’s been a while since I liked someone this way.”
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“I’m falling for you.”
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I fell shocked silence for a moment, probably in the same world as my deaf clients. I didn’t know how or what to say. I courteously replied this after a long pause:
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“Please don’t do this to yourself.”
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Encounter 2
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Friday night was special to me because it sorta marked my willingness to explore new territory, and perhaps, given the chance, be burned in emotions yet again. I’ve been anxious the whole week that finally I’ll be meeting up with a friend I’ve only known through text messages. I wore my new pair of shoes, a new pair of pants, my new long-sleeved shirt, and an eager perspective to possibly finding a connection.
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We ate in a quaint little Italian place somewhere in Malate and I’d have to say, I enjoyed the digressive conversation without touching much of our meal.
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Let’s call my friend Meal.
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Meal was well-dressed and mature for a 23-year old but in a good way. Culture was very apparent in manners, in speech, with a sense of confidence that was very comforting. I, on the other hand, was neither apprehensive nor insecure at all. Like a true Fire Goat, I was very poised and open to new learnings. I wanted to expose my vulnerability, to be truthful about everything I had been, and everything I am now. I was a burning goat.
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That same night, I receive a text message from my sister that my grandmother wasn’t doing well and that if I had the chance to go to the hospital, I should go visit. I became aloof right after. I tried detaching myself from the reality, how everything meaningful was happening at the same time, and that I can only choose to be in one place.
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Meal drove me home. The unconscious air had once again been disturbed. I wanted to do something more than just hold hands and bid the night farewell. I had let the fire partially consume me.
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And at this early a morning, I find myself fanning out the ashes …
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