para kay…

It’s eleven at night and I just got home from Manila. Since Monday, I had set foot in my own home for such a short time that it caused suspicion from the family. I slept over at oneechan’s house, along with my laptop and stuff, for a purpose my parents didn’t understand. Truth is, I went there for an overnight Bleach marathon; and she luckily had a spare bottle of red wine that we shared during that early morning. Being the bunso in my family, I had to explain in detail why I was leaving again today for the metro. I actually had no reason, so I just said I’d follow up a certain job application (which I never really did). I just felt the city calling me.

During the sleepover, I was also able to borrow Angela’s copy of Ricky Lee’s scriptwriting manual entitled Trip to Quiapo, the Signed Copy which she won at a raffle in Trinoma. This copy, as it turned out, would have something to do with today’s Manila escapade. I already started with the book but stopped; because all of a sudden I thought that if I was to take Ricky Lee’s writing advice, I would have to know him first. Sure, I’ve watched and loved a few of his movies and saw him on TV a couple of times, but I had to know, erm, understand him. So I had to read Para Kay B.

So today: When I got to the mall I love most in Manila, the first thing I did was run to Power Books for a copy of Para Kay B. Due to force of habit, I turned left towards the free reading section of the store. I admit that sometimes I am a freeloader. Immediately, I saw five copies of Para Kay B on the shelves for in-store reading and didn’t even blink as I grabbed one. I immersed myself in the book for the next four hours. The Power Books crowd had changed numerous instances by the time I finished the novel. Quoting the Boy Abunda review of the Filipino novel, “Hindi ko mabitiwan ang nobelang ito maski ihing-ihi na ako.” The book put a spell on me. I felt stupid thinking that it was the only reason why the city called me, that I rode the tricycle, bus and jeepney for several miles just to read this book?! Oo, alam ko, may National Bookstore naman malapit sa bahay.

I was still in a daze from reading when I met up with two college friends during the afternoon. The meeting was short and sweet, just catching up with the latest personal events. One of them asked me, “Why are you here again?”

I said I don’t know. I made the trip just because of a gut feeling. When they left, I opted to stay in the mall because I felt the day wasn’t done. I began the late afternoon searching for techie accessories but found none that I need. Suddenly, the day that had no purpose became a day of searching. I paid a visit to my alma mater, specifically to a certain laboratory. It was the lab I wanted to work in. I looked for a former classmate who worked there only to find her bench unusually clean and the only hint of her presence, a lab gown, perched on the old coat hanger. I left the building, literally circled my old campus three times,  catching glimpses of med students getting busy with books and chitchat. Some faces were familiar but most were strangers.

I knew I was looking for something but didn’t know what it was. I went back to the mall and walked all four levels in an hour. Then there was this urge to search for a tea shop, which turned into a search for books on sale, then for a good Japanese restaurant, then turned into a search for the best takoyaki. When I felt discomfort in my stomach, probably PMS, I settled in a Japanese cafe, satisfied a craving for takoyaki and milk tea as I drowned myself in oddly familiar J-pop music.

Even on short notice, I ended up meeting a friend who I’ve had for the last 13 years. We had dinner, caught up with our lives, talked about family, life, love, career and comedy. A most refreshing conversation after such a long time. The same question popped up, “Why are you here?” I was looking for something, I answered. My friend offered to help me look for it but I said it would be better for us to spend the night over dinner. We were just there, amidst plates of Italian food… talking.

I took home leftover pizza and pasta to my family, perhaps to thank them for today’s freedom.

Just so you know, I didn’t find it. Whatever it is.