The B-Side

Chapter 11: Redeemed

I was in this beautiful Batanes paradise, so how come I was up at four in the morning?

I rolled on the bed, seeing Marc still asleep on the other side of the “barricade,” a setup we had employed ever since we made the decision to sleep on the same bed.

I tiptoed out of the room as quietly as possible. I lit my way using my cellphone, but I couldn’t stop the creaking of the stairs as I headed down.

I found what I was looking for when I got to the lobby. I walked towards the piano, dusting off the cover before lifting it. It locked back, revealing the black and white keys that were pristine and clean despite looking like not being used for ages.

The sound that came out was crystal clear when I hit one key. I knew whatever I was going to play would sound nice, if not perfect. I took a deep breath, taking a seat, positioning my hands over the keys.

Would I risk waking up the entire house by playing a song?

Screw it.

I took another deep breath, hitting the first few notes of the song that Neil made me listen to a few months ago, during Track #5, Christina Perri’s Jar of Hearts.

The day before Marc “assaulted” me replayed in my head. And then the night. I didn’t learn the night before, so I had to have another go at getting myself hurt. I should have listened to him the first time out and ran away. 

I had to be told in a rash way to stay away. The argument type didn’t get into my head.

I remembered the way his lips felt and the way I wished it could have felt. I had imagined kissing Marc a million of times before—pecks on the cheek didn’t count—but once it happened, it was horrible given the circumstances. And his touch—rash, abusive, painful. Not gentle. Not sweet.

That night, he wasn’t the Marc I loved. That night just showed me and proved me how wrong I was in losing those six years that I loved, adored, and stayed obsessed with him.

I crossed the song’s chorus, when Perri mentioned the song’s title. Jar of Hearts. I could count twenty-five girls that Marc had dated, gone out with at least once, and been with seriously (by “seriously” here I meant he had seen them for more than a month). And each one of them, without fail—I knew Marc was the one who had caused the breakup or falling out. He was the one who took a step back. He was the one who didn’t call the girls back despite getting their numbers. He was waiting for Celes, sure, and when he got her, it sure wasn’t how he had expected her to be. But before Celes, he was notorious—for someone who isn’t even Brad Pitt-handsome, he broke so many hearts.

I was pretty sure, though, that he hadn’t broken any heart a number of times far more than he did to my heart.

And each time, without fail, I allowed him to break it. 

I kicked the song through its second verse, the part where Perri tells about being too strong enough not to go back to the guy. And it was my most favorite part of the song, because I think this was where I was right now.

When I ‘disappeared’ from Marc’s life, I had to start a new one. Picking up the pieces that were stomped on over and over and over again wasn’t easy at all, but I was just so happy that Neil came into my life. He couldn’t have come in a better time, and he couldn’t have made such a huge impact if he had come before the time that he actually did. If he came during the Marc era, I know that no matter what Neil did, I wouldn’t pay attention. I was so enamored with Marc that I wouldn’t notice Neil.

But Neil… Neil was epic.

He became a friend, a confidante, a healer. And he was teaching me to live life in ways that I couldn’t ever imagine. And he taught me how to laugh, love and be myself again—the self that I lost because I wanted to be that woman that Marc would want to be with. I became me, and I love it.