The Heaven of Zaria

Just when I thought that the day was over, I came to realize that it was only twelve o’clock. We went back to Allie’s apartment of red odd shaped sofa beds, wooden blinds and black frames and tables--- it was drop dead gorgeous. She is going in a marketing school where her classmates had one bag for a laptop and another bag for ‘Dopod’s, but she just couldn’t hide how much she loves music and much more, making it.

When I opened a closet, two guitars suddenly slid out that I stupendously thought it would hit me. It was her purple Stratocaster that she used in our gig nights and her orange Les Paul that she never took out of her room except when she moved in to this apartment. It amazes me how she keeps her guitar so shiny, it’s even shinier than my hair.

“I reckoned you would find that.” She suddenly said.
“You still use it?”
“Yeah,” Wallace go watch TV, “When I have to release some bad energy. Still effective.”
The television suddenly lit up and I saw Wallace’s paw on the remote control. No freaking way!
“Dogs are lucky,” Allie continued, “They can poop every where and not worry about cleaning up or watch TV all day and not worry about the bills. They learn dog tricks and don’t have to be humiliated if they repeated a grade,” She stopped stuffing her bag with the essentials and watched Wallace do some R&R--- relaxing and rejuvenating, “And we’re stuck trying to meet the world’s requirements.”
“Well, If we don’t…”, I suddenly said “If you don’t, Wallace’s gonna run around stealing burger patties or eating from the trash can.”
She turned attention to me “That would be gross. It all depends on us humans, doesn’t it?” she swung her bag across her torso.
“Yup. We stay alive, they stay alive.”

In the light of fresh-from-the-laundry-jeans sponsored by Allie, Allie and I entered the “Orbit Cafe” fifteen minutes before the clock struck one. It was a familiar scene, except people were crowding on the counter waving their receipts at our manager, Kevin, which Allie calls “Boss”. Crowding? Customers in this café don’t crowd! They sit on their tables and wait for their Venus espresso!

Excuse me, I ordered Biscotti but its not there yet.
Hi. The office needs fifteen orders of…
Can I have an update on my espresso?
This might be rude, but can I get my money back instead?

“Money back? No, no money back! I’ll handle that!” Allie explains and quickly grabbed the man’s receipt. There were like six hands trying to grab Kevin’s shirt as he tries his best to fly through the orders, which he is not doing very good at. He’s manager because he could sweet talk just about everyone and give a speech that would rev us up early in the morning. And yes, he’s not the manager because he makes good coffee and knows a trick or two, he knows his way around the counter and knows which buttons to push, but he’s just not THE bartender we are.

Never mind the apron, I snatched three receipts and turned my back around, “Kevin, sugar coat what’s happening please.”
Allie grabbed whatever he was doing and started flying through the job as if it was just writing the lyrics of “Mary had a little Lamb”. Kevin who already looked pale and over worked, turned to the customers on the counter and said with his most pleasant voice, “Sir, well have all your orders on your tables in a minute, I’m sorry for the inconvenience our regular bartenders met an accident going to Orbit, you know the streets. I hope you will understand.” I heard a couple of grunts the slowly faded away in the buzz of chitchat.

“Order Seventeen!” I made my way to a table where a man sat with his pencil stroking on a sketchpad, and as I saw a clear view of his sketch I began to wonder how the picture would look like when it was finished, “Here you go, Sir, a Mango Tart and Coffee with no sugar.” I settled the plate and the cup in front of him.

“Thank you,” He tucked his pencil on his ear and sipped from the coffee, “Do you mind me asking a question of perspective?” It was odd to be asked a ‘question of perspective’ by a man whose hair was already white, and whose voice was already hoarse because of age. Of course I mind!

“Sure.”

“If I were to draw a picture of you, would you want it to be drawn with a busy background or should I just leave it blank?”

Is this a trick question? “Well, I would say without because in my part it would be easier, but I,” I looked out the window and saw people walking in and out of stores or just simply passing by, “…in disregard of what is easy and hard, I would chose to be drawn with a background.”

“Why?”

“Uhm… Involvement I guess. Because that way, I can be seen as somebody who is a part of something.”

“Can I ask again?” He looked outside and took his pencil from his ear, “Why is it important to be seen as somebody who is a part of something?”

I smiled. My mother has always told me, “Because I can change a lot of things with just that.” My mother’s voice echoed through my mind.

“Thank you.” He looked up at me and gave me a grin.

“No Problem, Sir.”

I turned to Allie, with one leg up the bench, “…Yesterday, James was there.”

Allie’s eyes widened again, “In your sister’s wedding?”
“Yes.”

She drank a big gulp of hot chocolate, “No, way!”
“Well, he was there!”

“How?!” My best friend’s more surprised than I am… I’m not surprised with that.
“I don’t know, I…”
“What was he wearing?”
“I… can’t remember…”

At the moment that I realized he was sitting in that table all I could see was his face. I tried to remember how it felt when his eyes suddenly dart at me after he selects a song from his ipod, but I was lost at that moment. I couldn’t think of what happened then and what would happen next. It is funny to think as if he was a human with only a floating head for a body, but at that time it seemed like so. Hearing his voice was like a spank, why didn’t I ever give him a call or attended a reunion! It is a way of nature I guess, when you were deprived of something and suddenly you are swimming in it and then you find yourself drowning. At those moments, even though I was aware that he was drowning me in his ocean, I didn’t want to swim back up the surface because maybe if I do I’ll never in my life reach the bottom of the ocean.

Ah… the bottom of the ocean.

Nobody knows what it holds for mankind even though some people were wise or strong enough to know so. Sometimes no matter how wise or how strong a person is, if he is not ready to discover a secret of the world, the world will keep on hiding it from him. But it is not forever that the world will hide all its secrets, it is not forever that the world will hide what is at the bottom of the ocean. It may have concealed its secrets to a man upon his death not allowing him to tell everybody else, because unlike him, everybody else is not ready to know what those secrets are. At those moments that James and I talked, I clung on to my breath as he pours me his time, I didn’t want to let go with the hope that I might find answers to the questions I kept to myself for two years.

But the answers I got were the answers for those questions that were running in my mind as he told me of his life in college, “Having somebody like a prospective partner in life is tempting, but I could do that after University when money comes flying in. That doesn’t sound dweeby, does it?”

Allie’s question came flying out of her mouth, leaving no room for explanation. Was he with somebody in the party? Is he already with somebody? Does he look like he’s in drugs? Did he take a cab? Did he drive a red car to the party? Did it take him five minutes to recognize you? …because really, you changed. Those are just a few of the questions that I was left just answering it with “No but…” or “Yes but…” But I was enjoying the ‘answering-and-left-hanging’ conversation we are having, it was the ‘best friends factor’ I guess. When I’m talking to Allie it felt like honesty was a habit because whether I said something or said something that I did something that other people might find odd, I was never concerned about Allie’s judgment. She has always shown that she understands me even in silence and if I were wrong she shows how much trust she has on me that I would realize I was. Allie never treated me like I was child who is just learning how to walk. She treated me as person who can manage to stand up alone every time I fell, in spite of that she was always there every time I did ‘just in case’.

“So how was it? You’re not telling me Monica!”
“How am I supposed to tell you Allie, if you keep on asking questions…”

She sipped the last of her hot chocolate, “I’m sorry, I’m just really surprised. I know very well that you still dig him for some anonymous reason even you don’t know!”

“Well that’s it,” I sighed and begin to remember how cold my body was yesterday, “Each and everyday that we weren’t talking or weren’t with each others company just made me…”

“Made your heart grow fonder,” Putting words in to each other’s mouths was typical, “That’s it you’re a living testament of that. So how did it go?”

“Do you want to know it ended?” I stared at the cup of hot chocolate hoping I could just empty the cup, pour my brains in to the empty cup and throw it away, “I asked him why he was so obsessed with finding out if I changed or not.”

Allie smirked and nodded, “Ooooooooookay?”

“Alliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” I covered my face with my hands. Did her okay mean ‘Okay and theeeeen??’

“What! It wasn’t a bad question! It was straightforward, but it was still safe. It was like a rhetorical question but it wasn’t a hard question, it’s answerable!”

“That’s it! I anticipated an answer, but there’s no answer.”

“There was no answer?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“Something must have happened again, James is the kind of guy who likes answering questions.” Allie always thought James as the kind of guy who was overly logical, the person who would give you a candy for asking him ‘why?’ Years back, when Allie worked for the school newspaper, Allie asked James his honest opinion about music being the strongest influence of today’s generation. Allie got an answer too factual that she ended up writing a much-abbreviated version of James’ answer. Too abbreviated she left only four words, “Music reshaped our generation.”

It only had four words, but it captivated me.
It annoys me how I go ga-ga over somebody.

“Well, my stepmother had to create a scene on the reception. She was scolding a guy behind the buffet table, and Colleen was trying to calm our step mother down, so I went there to find out that she was raising her voice at the poor guy because she was given a teaspoon instead of a spoon.”

“Poor waiter.”

“Yeah, and he seems to be new on the job, I could totally understand if he quit after that. But he seems to be really cool about it.”

I lie on the moist green grass cheek first, watching a blue rose bloom so rapidly.

I was astonished.

It is not everyday that you find a blue rose planted on the ground, blooming faster than toasting buttered bread. I gazed beyond this blue rose and found more blue roses that found no time in opening and exposing itself to the orange sky that had a blue moon above an orange sun. Suddenly, the ground rumbled and loud beeping filled my ears. I scrambled for my shoes, but I couldn’t find them! A yellow bulldozer made its way through the garden and then it became clear to me that the beeping was actually ringing in a frequency that my ears couldn’t take. The bulldozer flattened the garden, driving over the blue roses that were now shivering on the ground just like a cassette tape being eaten. The bulldozer stopped inches away from me, so did the ringing, and a man whose face I can’t see slowly descended to the mess he has created. “Hi Monica.” He said.

“What’s the point in this?” I dared myself to walk towards him. The sun turned in to ashes and the ashes were taken by the wind and scattered it across the garden that used to be in healthy shades of blue and green. When the ashes of the sun touched the soil it went up in blue and orange flames. I was sweating, but rather than running away I chose to wait for the man’s reply, “Tell me what’s the point in this.”

Then his mouth moved, “I know you wouldn’t pick up the phone, so I’ll just tell you anyway…”

My eyes shot wide open. I immediately felt the rays of the sun burn through my face as it penetrates the glass window and what more that resembled my nightmare was that Allie was on the answering machine--- that explains why the man’s voice when he replied was not …manly.

“…I got boss to let us in at one p.m. beeeeeeeeecause, Wallace has to exercise like an athlete. He poops and scores at home and the people at work said its because Wallace is no toy dog so he needs to feel his big dog-iness. Gawd! I can’t find a reason why they left me with this…refrigerator! They know I only like dogs when it is a fence away!”

My head is still in pieces and I can’t grasp which was pooping and scoring in her house, the people at work, Wallace or the refrigerator? I pressed the button on the telephone, “Allie…”
“I woke you up didn’t I?”
“Yes, but it’s alright. So what are we supposed to do again?”
“Walk Wallace in Graham Park, how are you planning to eat?”
“I don’t know.” I rolled myself off the bed like I always do and probably Allie hear the loud thud when I dropped on the wooden floor.
“Good you’re up, so let’s swing by seven eleven to grab a bite? In thirty minutes?”
I held my arms up and stretched, “Yeah okay.”

At nine o’clock the park seemed to be a picnic ground for different kinds of people, some of them even cuddling under the trees. It has been a while since Allie and I set foot in Graham with cheeseburgers on one hand and hot chocolate milk on another, in her case Wallace on another. The last time I saw Wallace was four months ago, when we went to the farm owned by the Cains. He is a golden retriever that was five thick books tall and irresistibly cute like a stuffed toy. Well, he WAS five thick books tall.

“I come home, and play ‘spot the poop’! I mean, yes Wallace, unlike other big dogs you don’t break things, but I would really appreciate it if you were potty trained!” It’s hilarious how she talks to Wallace while Wallace couldn’t even understand why the female human was making all those annoying noises. I think it is even more sensible to talk to a fruit--- NOT.

“Allie, you don’t really expect Wallace to do number two in the bathroom and flush it.” I could picture those movies that had dogs or cats for leading character roles. They made the animals wear sunglasses, hats and shoes just to make them look like humans with four legs. There are clips that they enter public restrooms; do their thing and most of all THEY DON’T FORGET TO FLUSH. In the real world, Wallace couldn’t be as human as that. Well, maybe Wallace will shock us one day.

She took a big bite off her cheeseburger, “What I’m saying is, they should have taught him to hold it, dig a spot in the garden, dump his waste there and cover it. Isn’t that what trained dogs do?” Even if Allie was talking about waste management she always sounded serious and at the same time sarcastic.

Then the word ‘trained’ just gave me a spank, once yesterday, once again today, “Maybe Wallace is just not ready for that yet.” I took a sip from my cup and noticed that Allie was staring at me in bewilderment.

The chill of the morning quickly caught up with the heat I felt when I woke up that I had to run back up the apartment to fetch a jacket before I met up with Allie. When I saw Allie, I realized I wasn’t made up for the simple walk in the park, I even doubt if I took a bath although I did. Allie was really ready for the day, wearing her usual eyeliner and in a descent casual, while I was wearing jeans from the other day. The people in the park don’t seem to notice that I was still in a scattered state and Wallace doesn’t seem to notice. But as Allie stared at me, I don’t know if my morning bath didn’t work or there was something that I said that fumbled her. I took a seat on a vacant bench near us and settled my cup of hot chocolate down.

Allie with the same facial expression sat beside me, “Monica, are we still talking about Wallace?”
“Of course we’re talk about Wallace, who else could we be talking about?” I took a bite from my cheeseburger and pretended I wasn’t wondering if we were really talking about Wallace.
“Ha!” It was a start of her 'I-knew-it' laugh, “Oh! My!” She gave a laugh that was a little bit longer, “WE’RE TALKING ABOUT YOU!”
“No we’re not Allie, because that would be rude to Wallace.” Monica! Monica! Monica! Allie fought for her time to speak and make me realize I was really, after all, talking about myself.
“Monica!” She took my burger before I could bite it, “Something happened that’s why you’re wearing your jeans for the second time around and you say things you don’t mean to say---”
“How did you know I was…”
“Wait! Wait! Wait!” she shoved my cheeseburger in to my mouth, “You and I have been friends for?”
“10 years.”
“I could remember what happen when you first had your period, your first crush and unfortunately your first casualty, so I wonder why I don’t know about this!”
“Because!”
“Because what?”
“It just happen yesterday, and I slept it off!”

And I don’t know where to start! I don’t know how to start! Maybe I could start by saying that Wallace and I both have a few things to sort out like being trained as a pre-requisite to living orderly and pleasantly. If Wallace needs potty training, I need… princess training, or boot camp, or ‘how-not-to-miss-an-opportunity-to-let-him-know-what-you-feel’ camp. But really, I don’t know what my problem is, “I don’t know what my problem is,” I said,

“All I know is that it has something to do with my pride…”
See, I can be brutally honest with myself! I don’t know what’s worst, a dog that spreads his blessings around the house or a human who uses her pride as an excuse not to do something. Both are good in doing the same mistake anyway, and that would be the mistake of “missing out”. While Wallace was missing the toilet or the dug in, I was missing out on the opportunity to paint a clearer picture of where I am standing--- in short, the chance to know who I am to James.

“Monica?”

I looked up and was surprised about how fast Colleen found me rather than how fast she got to this table that was like an airplane ride away from the dance floor, “Oh hey, uhm,” I stood up and opened my arms wide like I was showing off the dress that she would kill me for wearing, “Congratulations!” I gave her a sisterly hug that was neither awkward nor comfortable.

“Okay, yeah enough,” she took her arms off me, grabbed my hand and led me through a crowd of people that majority are strangers to me.
“Mind telling me where this walking is going to end?”
“Continents away from the buffet table.”
My face crumpled like used tissue paper, “Well this is far enough, give me some grace time to run back my unfinished fondue!” She suddenly stopped, so I did.

She turned to the table at our right and gave her schoolgirl smile, “Hey fellas, hope you’re having a great time!” then she nodded in persuasion like she usually did at some circumstances. I heard the people sitting in that table give some approval and say some other things I pretended I was too preoccupied to hear. I was frustrated and I felt unaccomplished because I left delicious food waiting, but Colleen’s nodding got me to turn to the people in that table and give a smile pleasant enough to politely tell them that they should really have a great time!

The world suddenly stopped spinning.

There he was, like mango and strawberries covered with chocolate fondue. How could I forget that whenever Colleen did her schoolgirl smile it meant that she did something ridiculously impossible!

“I wasn’t sure, so I was waiting for you to face here.” He said with a grin.

This. Is. Really. Ridiculous.

Biology couldn’t even explain why I suddenly find exhaling difficult when my heartbeat was reaching beyond normal level. I couldn’t open my mouth, it’s like being in a dream--- I can scream or shout as loud as I want but people won’t hear. I don’t know if was already having osteoporosis, because I can feel my spine weaken and decay. I saw his mouth move which meant that he said a few words, which I didn’t catch, and then I saw him stand up from his seat and walk towards me until he was within arms reach. He looked so real I wanted to cry.
I opened my mouth and tried to say something with a lot of sense, “Hi.” That made a lot of sense.
He smiled. HE SMILED! “Hi. Again. Because I was already in the how are you part.” I seriously need dog training now, why can’t I just give my paw when Colleen says ‘shake hands’ or bark when Colleen orders me to do so.
“I’m, I’m,” I laughed, when I honestly want to strangle myself at this very moment, “I’m sorry I was just really surprised that you’re here, its been a long time.”

“A month would be enough for some catching up, is it? I’ll be staying for a while now another year in school is over. So, how are you?”

Oh, I was wallowing in self-pity a while ago, but now that you’re here I wallow in despair. Were you a mushroom in your past life? Because I sure feel like you were! Suddenly popping out of nowhere! “I’m great!” Then I did something quite extraordinary, I moved my feet, then my legs, and then before I knew it I was already walking. I was walking with the only friend I fell in love with. As I look around

“I mean University life is awesome. I am confident I picked the right degree. I…”

“Monica.”

“Yeah?” Say my name again.

“I’ve always been wondering if you’re still the same.” He said it in such a way that I don’t know where to start. I got lost in it. I got lost his voice.

What to say? What to say? I can’t believe I STILL suck in having a descent conversation with him, “Am I?” then it all came back to me.

Three years ago I realized I was done consuming my time on bleeding for something that was over a long time ago. I realized I am the reason for my bleeding, not the other person in mind. From that I have learned to let go, but I have learned it the hard way. So I expect myself to be strong in this sub-section of love, the letting go section. But I didn’t really know that next door was the moving on section, and I was kind of required to enter that section first just so letting go would be like eating ice cream at a hot summer day. And then I learned that letting go wasn’t meant to be like eating ice cream at a hot summer day, in fact letting go doesn’t exist after all. Its two words that could make people believe that there is always a period on things. But searching for those two words in my life when another life ended just made me realize that letting go is a fair-weathered friend. Its non-existence is the sole reason why I had to enter the realms of moving on to a new life first, because once you’ve entered it there is really no going back. Moving on did find me a new life, but sometimes I still look for the boy that used to care even though I know he’s not there---and can’t be ever.

Like a good friend that he is, one day James Cordell just said my name in a way that I realized he was there when everything falls. Though he doesn’t know I was in the rough, his presence makes it easier for me to believe that I could move on. The next thing I felt was that I was moving on to the idea of him.

But of course, he never knew that.

I didn’t know this fountain was made of marble. It seemed like it was made of granite from a far, but sitting here beside him and listening to him once again after a year of being apart made me realize that one single thing. Realizing that the fountain was made of marble may sound as if it wasn’t important, but I wouldn’t realize it if we weren’t led here by our feet.

“…I still like Rhythm and Blues, that wouldn’t be changeable, it’s my chill music.” We had gone off talking about what we like to talk about the most ever since.
“You call that chill music?”
“And you call your loud music chill music?”
“Well, yes! Not only does it talk about love and hate, it projects about the what’s not and what’s what of religion and politics!”
“So you still like listening to the what’s not and the what’s what of religion and politics during your chill time?”
“Well, yes…” I can’t gross myself enough by giving that giggle.
“Quite astonishing really!” He laughed, I missed that, “But I’m still wondering if anything has changed!”
“Why are you so obsessed about knowing if I did?” Oh no.

That was one of the questions that I ask without thinking. Sometimes, I end up with an answer I would like to hear repeatedly; sometimes I am given an answer that I regret I have to hear. But right now I don’t feel scared or threatened, I just want to hear the truth--- whether it would please me or make me regret. The answer, and hopefully the truth, would be coming from James after all. These few moments of being with him again made me remember where I could find my heart and from whom I could get it back. Hearing his answer to my out of the paper bag question would be a satisfaction because that would be the best reason why I should not or should once again move on.

To think about love, is I never saw it coming, it kind of crept up and took me by surprise…
And now there’s a voice inside my heart its got me wondering is this true?
I want to hear it one more time.

Finally, I’m hearing a song in this wedding that didn’t sound like a funeral song. Moreover, I was finally hearing something that sounded right. It wasn’t the ideal song for the first dance of the newly wed couple, but it was the perfect song for Mr. And Mrs. Sammon.

Move in a little closer; take it to a whisper; and just a bit louder…

You know those Disney movies where in the prince takes the hand of the Disney princess and starts to bedazzle her in a dance, spinning across a huge ballroom that had tall tinted windows with red or silver curtains, while the guests watch them from a distance looking like they all fell in love like never before? Well, the same fairytale unfolds from where I am sitting. Peter and Colleen just looked at each other like they were melting candles using ice, while everybody stared blankly without a thought to be read from them. Coming from a person that doesn’t like romance, there’s a fifty-fifty chance that I might fall in love just by watching them.

Say it again for me ‘cause I love the way it feels when you are telling me that I’m the only one who blows your mind…

This is how I pictured their wedding. Not so formal, not so informal.

It was a pain that the “adults” were the ones who planned the ridiculously Victorian-like themed church ceremony. I mean, to be wed in a church is awesome, but the wedding was totally…what? More like a wedding to renew the vows of a couple in 25 years of marriage. It was ironic though, because nobody who planned the wedding is in a 10-year marriage. Maybe Peter and Colleen would be the first to be in one--- in the family.

Say it again for me its like the world stops to listen when you tell me you’re in love, say it again.

Yeah Marie Digby, say it again. I would survive this reception with that one single song playing over and over again. Another funeral-ish sound from the string quartet and I’ll fake a sprain!

I chose to sit in table number seventeen, because not only is seventeen my favorite number but also because it was nearest to the chocolate fondue. As I watch couples flock on the dance floor with Peter and Colleen in the middle, I stuffed my mouth with chocolate covered strawberries. Unconscious if I looked bitter about being the only person who is sure about not rising from my seat and taking up space on the dance floor, I went back to the buffet station to get mangoes to dip on my bowl of chocolate. I’m going to ride with the bandwagon in saying that if you are not in love, gobble chocolate until you think you are. I wonder if I should have somebody rush to the drugstore now just in case my stomach gives up before I donate my portion of love in the air--- or at least find somebody interesting.

How can I possibly find somebody interesting, available and more so existing in the middle of a garden that had a very snobbish atmosphere thanks to the three larger than life fountains that were each shaped like a Greek goddess in merriment? Their body gestures annoy me, its like they are making fun of the people who doesn’t have time or space or both for commitment. Why am I having these thoughts anyway? I’m eighteen! My advocacy is to be happy and satisfied with what I have at this very moment! And right now I have a plate of mangoes ready to be covered with chocolate, ready to sacrifice itself to advocates of happiness like me. Well, I’m happy and satisfied!

As I once again stuffed my mouth with a substitute ticket to cloud nine, I began to ask myself if my wedding in the distant future would be as successful as this, or is something going to explode like the fondue or the church. Am I going to have a nearly perfect first dance song as they had or am I going to dance to a funeral song? Am I going to find the right guy at the right moment and get married to him?

Am I going to get married? I stopped and stared at the fork that had the sweetest mango covered with the best chocolate I have tasted in my entire lifetime, then some wacko thing just happened--- I talked to the substitute ticket that was pierced on my fork, “Am I going to eat you?”

I ate the chocolate covered mango even before it could give me a reply.

She finally appeared at the corner of my eye looking like a mirage in a desert that appeared at the point when one is thirsting for TV entertainment. As I fish myself pictures of celebrities trying to recall which actress Colleen looks like, an estranging five seconds came--- we stared at each other at those five seconds and it seemed long. Yes, we are twins, but the magnitude of feeling that we are not was sometimes stronger than the feeling that we are. Davin, our older brother, never grew tired of brewing his theory that I fell from the sky the same day Colleen came out of our mother. Sometimes, I thought that if that was true that explains where my brain cells all went. If I didn’t fall and hit my head, I would have been smart ever since I was little and would have figured out by now why it was so important for them to wear Charmeuse when normal people won’t even notice if they are or they are not.

Colleen’s stare was unexpectedly more lovable than her stare yesterday, the day before that, the day before that day, and maybe her stare tomorrow. There is something about it that worries me, but then it also made me grin at her for the first time in many years. We do not hate each other it’s just that things were spinning differently for us ever since we turned fifteen, our lives have spun in dissimilar directions and revolved around even more dissimilar things. People look at us and don’t even think we are sisters, maybe us, living different lifestyles took a toll on what made us identical twins--- our physical similarities. Because really, right now, having a good look at each other, just made us realize that we’re nothing like identical twins anymore, but a part of me is saying that we still might die like how we were born, together and at the same manner. Probably, Colleen felt the same thing, because somewhat as her dark brown eyes sent a chain of mixed emotions at me I could feel the presence of the same feeling there.

As the ceremony ran its traditional course, I had that eerie dislike of seeing Colleen and her groom, Peter Sammon, facing each other saying their vows. It’s just like seeing my black-curled hair, snow-colored skin and wedding-gown-wearing self, saying things I’m not bound to say YET to some person who probably can’t count to one hundred. But maybe my soon to be brother-in-law can count to a hundred and one, or if he was sharp enough, a hundred and two. Giving myself another round of reality check, I straightened my black hair, got mahogany highlights and tanned my skin to avoid these kinds of thoughts running through my head. I’m not my sister in any way, I’m anybody else for that matter, and I had to eat my own dirt just to believe that myself. Maybe Colleen had her fair share of eating her own dirt just to prove that she and Peter Sammon are for life.

“Colleen Caden, I take you to be my lawfully wedded wife. Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you with all your faults and your strengths as I offer myself to you with my faults and strengths. I will help you when you need help, and I will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life. ”

“I, Colleen Caden take you, Peter Sammon to be my beloved husband, to have and to hold you, to honor you, to treasure you, to be at your side in sorrow and in joy, in the good times, and in the bad, and to love and cherish you always. I promise you this from my heart, for all the days of my life.”

I must say, though they aren’t the most creative and original couple, the vows were said as if ‘always’ and ‘forever’ were already happening. Was it really?

I am not exactly the most knowledgeable person about things that are ‘always’ and things that are for forever. It’s just safe to think that love will forever be there, but I’ve always doubted that it wasn’t safe to say verbally that it is or more so promise. At the moment that heard Colleen say, “I promise you this from my heart, for all the days of my life.” I wanted to laugh! But laughing while being seated at the front row would just screw the video of the wedding and worst, slow the ceremony down. Colleen isn’t exactly the person who can keep a promise. She might keep it, but she’ll have second thoughts and choose to give it away. The last time she told me “I promise”, I was left with a pair of ‘Jimmy Choo’-s that was one size smaller. Wearing these shoes just reminded me of how her promises would end up and hopefully her wedding vow isn’t going to be one of those promises.

With the benefit of the doubt, Colleen might actually nail this promise in the love department. She has always played it safe and with pride, but in love I’ve seen her do the most stupid things. It is a wonder for me how she can afford to cry over a boy, who isn’t even a man--- I’ve always made it a point to draw a demarcation line between two different kind of people though same kind of species. I even thought it was a joke when she told me she would cut herself because her boyfriend for two years had left her, but at the second time that she told me that she wanted to die, the least that I wanted to do was tie her to a tree or if it would do her any good, cuff both of our hands together. What if Peter does something Colleen might find reason to die for? Is it too late for me to play valiant-sister and actually cuff both of our hands together?

For a while there I zoned out and didn’t realize the photographer was calling the family of the bride and the groom for a photo.

“Monica, that isn’t exactly Charmeuse, and obviously it is not white!” Finally, the verbal intimidation started. It’s a point where my stepmother makes me realize that I’m not really being cooperative, “Where’s the frock we bought a week ago? You promised you would wear that, that would be breaking a promise.”

“This isn’t breaking a promise, it is… BENDING it. Just like rules,” We all smiled, the photographer clicked, the flash went on and off--- so did our smiles, “you bend ‘em.”

“You have gone way off key Monica,” my stepmother whispered in a very gasping manner as we exchanged places with the Sammon family, “Your making your sister’s wedding as an opportunity to get noticed, when everybody is just fine being like everybody else,” She looked at me as if I was still fifteen years old and just out of the diaper, “You. Are being. Unfair!”

“Mrs. Caden…” A pleasant voice came from behind my stepmother. Actually, my stepmother didn’t have to move from sight just for me to see Adrianna Sammon, because she was a head taller than my stepmother and anyone in our family.

My stepmother turned her back towards me and went back to her goody-two-shoes act, “Hello Adria…” Her eyes flew from Adrianna’s shoulders to her thighs more than ten times, she just couldn’t believe that I was right, promises could be bent, “…nna.”

Adrianna sensed my stepmother’s confusion and looked at me with her most grateful smile, “I’m sorry, Monica didn’t tell you I guess. My dress’ zipper wouldn’t zip up, and the only dress I had in my suitcase right now was that black dress. I was about to wear it down the aisle, I mean I was totally okay with the humiliation even as the bridesmaid, but Monica proposed lending me her dress. I hope it is okay with you.”

I couldn’t put that explanation in better words neither can I put up that smile that was doing all the work for me. “Ma, I said I would promise to wear that dress when nothing bad happens, a bridesmaid in black satin is bad enough.” My stepmother couldn’t bear to look at me anymore, because maybe she couldn’t bear that I can be right.

“Well…I suppose so,” then she smiled a grateful smile that had ‘bitter’ written all over it, “I mean yes.”

“Well Mrs. Caden, I actually wanted to talk to you about Monica…” And that was the last I’ve heard that day from Adrianna and, most gladly, my stepmother, since I skipped my insides out the cathedral and to my car.

Before I could open the car door I saw a reflection of myself on the tinted car window. Wow, it was the cunning girl who invented bending promises! It was really sneaky of me to make a promise, take both sides of it and hold everything down and suddenly release it before it would snap. As I stare at my reflection and remember why I have straightened my hair, put highlights on it and tanned my skin, it hit me that I can’t bend all my promises and treat them as if they were like rules. Because unlike bending rules, bending promises can give people a strong reason to kick me out of a game, and one game I wouldn’t like to be kicked out of was my own game of making change.

Aside from the pink satin cloth that draped and met at the middle of the ceiling a hundred feet above, I, who wore black amongst a sea of white, am evidently MISPLACED. What makes me more misplaced is the pathetic fact that I am the only one wearing a dress made of satin. If I exist in a world with less conceited people, I wouldn't even take notice of that fact. Ritually I give myself a reality check. I happen to be the stepdaughter of the sister of a wife of a big-deal businessman who happens to be mutually in love with the media. And what's worst? Charmeuse had to be the 'in' cloth for today’s wedding. Not wearing it now, not having it cut above the knees or at least showing a little bit of cleavage, would be the least desirable situation to be in. And most obviously, I am wearing something that is not Charmeuse, not white, not short...enough and bears no cleavage in sight. Maybe I'll get extra points for wearing stunning gold Jimmy Choo peep toe sandals or maybe not. Either way, if I weren’t the sister of the bride I would have been kicked out of the cathedral seconds before I could set my ‘Jimmy Choo’-s on the red carpet. When I was younger my head would start spinning at moments like this, but I suppose that age is like a number that shows how much tolerance you have to how much slamming you get from the world because of the things it hates about you.

Like when you were 6 you ate paper and your teachers choke you until they got it out, then they leave you sobbing in the clinic. Then you became 10 and still ate paper and your sister tried to choke her love letter out you but instead you ate more love letters in due time. Then you became 14 and graduated from paper so you ate what your so-called friends call "Salami Surprise" and actually won a buck from eating it even if you spent three days toilet-ridden. I know you get what I'm saying.

Well, now I'm 18 and my name is still Monica. The Monica who is deviant, out of control, the twin they expect who wouldn’t be going to college. Sincerely, the Monica who is always the least perfect person in the room and at the rugged edge of things--- I do what my high-end family can’t; I would do what they wouldn't. That is why I am the person wearing this odd ball garment in this wedding, not my step-mother, not my cousins, not the flop sitting beside me, but me, Monica. I am Monica, the only person in the family who can be misplaced in a crowd and actually be more than satisfied about it, the girl who wears ‘Jimmy Choo’-s and actually not get noticed. I’ve actually become 18 and have a life that didn’t require me to cry every night for some random reason or didn’t demand me to dress up like everybody else around me. But at the bottom of it all, they saw me as the black sheep, while I just saw myself as the person wearing black when they all wore white forever.

The String quartet of four, young and dark-haired men in silver tacky tuxedos finally played the “Wedding March” in such a way that you can’t tell it apart from a sad funeral song--- I don’t know if it’s just me or it does really resemble a funeral song. I didn’t bother to look behind and watch my twin sister walk down the aisle for the sole reason that I would be turning my sights at everybody else who is in the cathedral. I might try to read their minds and start to assume what they were all thinking while watching the bride glide past them in a white laced gown that she hated yet still wore (and it fitted like a glove). Honestly, I was assuming that in spite of the family taking Colleen’s pregnancy as good news (they were forced to do so), not everybody is thoroughly welcoming the idea. Not the idea of Colleen being pregnant at the age of 18, but the idea of keeping the baby. It might be rude to assume that every guest in this wedding was strained to accept Colleen’s idea of the outcome of her pregnancy, but somewhat it is a bitter reality that what I assume is correct. Honestly (You’ll eventually discover I’m a brutally honest person…), I was surprised that she was able to make a decision like that, make a decision for herself. A decision that didn’t have a top one reason that is all about her. No matter how much gagging her friends did to her and even if the family almost killed her by poisoning what is left of the magnanimity in her, Colleen chose opposite of what they were forcing her to do and to be. She chose to be a big, fat, filled-with-cellulite-and-stretch-marks mother of a new person, her daughter. Probably it was our argument three weeks ago that got her to feet and walk the altar with a baby bump,

“What if your daughter looked down at you from heaven and said that it was really better off that she wasn’t born because her mother would just bitch and ditch her?”

“Don’t be a child Monica, there is no heaven. If there was I wouldn’t be in this hell.”

“You created your own hell on earth, but it’s never too late to make heaven,” At that moment I touched her belly and tried to feel the life inside because maybe in just a flicker Colleen might make me miss the beauty of it, “This is a chance to start again, Colleen, it will hurt but its worth it.”

“How do you know?”

“Well,” I tried to think of a less inflicting reason but I couldn’t, “Mom never gave up on us when she was alive, and what do I know, you might be as smart as she is.”

So she is. But she never admitted that it was our argument that made her realize that some things are larger than her head, her weekly allowance or what’s going to be of her belly--- I doubt if she even realized that. Maybe it wasn’t our argument, maybe it was something else, but if it was I don’t expect her to admit that I had a point, because it would be like admitting that she bought burger from a rodent exterminator.

As the String quartet played what is supposed to be an enchanting “Wedding March”; as Colleen glides on the aisle as if she was parting the “white” ocean that because of me isn’t completely white; as I tell myself the story behind this wedding, I begin to realize that I am not the only person who didn’t wear white on this day that all guests were forced to do so.

Though the bride wore white just like all of her guests but one, she wasn't like everybody else who wore white during her wedding day.