Kit Castille didn't want to be one of the girls who worshiped Matthew Rondillo in college. She doesn't want to be one of the girls in his little black book now. But she gave her heart to Matthew all those years ago. Driven by revenge, she's on a mis...
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I leave Tristan's place feeling better. He sounded so excited to be back and start a new life that I almost forgot my own problems. I didn't want to burden him with my Matthew issues. Well, at least not yet. Sure, I've updated him about the dating part but I didn't tell him, yet, about the Bridgette part. Most of all, I didn't tell Tristan that Matthew had not called me in the last five days.
Silence can mean a lot of things. Silence can be a way of saying, "Yes, I'm missing out on a lot of things and I want us to start again now that we're both single." Silence can also mean, "No, I'm sorry, but I'm still not over Bridgette but you're here again and I can't help it." But silence can also mean, "Wait, I'm thinking."
Or silence can mean he doesn't give a f*ck about you, Veronica says. Not in college and not now.
F*ck off! I tell her as I unlock the door to my small condo in Makati. I open my fridge and stash the two jars of expensive jam I nicked from Tristan's. I figure they'll go well with scones tomorrow, I'll get some from Salcedo Market. And after the work week I just had, I need scones.
The last few days had been gray. The world suddenly became bleak again – at least to me – since I last saw or talked to Matthew. Sometimes, I am so dramatic that I want to punch myself.
The 'date' ended just like the ones before. He dropped me off at my building before driving all the way back to his own place in Las Piñas. But this time, there was no singing inside the car, no small talks, no white noise to drown out the deafening, sickening silence that started in Starbucks when I told him he can't keep me in a loop forever and that somehow, he has to let me go.
He drove zombie-like from Eastwood City to Makati. I kept my eyes on the road the whole time, kept my legs closed and my mouth shut. I was terrified of saying something more that would completely break the intoxicating spell I was in these last few months. I am not ready to snap out of it just yet. When we reached my building, he opened the passenger door from the inside to let me out. He kissed me on the cheeks and said he'd call me.
But the call never came.
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Photo by Scott Baraquel Jr.
At the office, I never explained the sudden shift in temperature or the switch back to strong, black coffee from the f*cking ginger tea. My boss Joey must have sensed some sort of change that he decided to give me another brand presentation to work on. I guess he wanted to somehow monetize on my sudden desire to write. I managed to produce two dozen copies for this telecom's new online campaign. Amazingly, the copies didn't suck that much that half made it to design.
