JULIA

by Angelo A. Angeles

Why can't I get her off my mind?

What's so special about her? She's a stranger. I'm a stranger. We're both strangers. That's it and nothing's gonna change.

I seriously have to get rid of her. I am having my exams next week and I can't sacrifice my scholarship. I've been having sleepless nights for days and I'm ending it. I'm done. I'm so done. Tomorrow, I have to talk to her. I have to tell her. I have to see her. 

But there's no her.

--

"Son."

The alarm has blared so hard that I actually jumped off my bed. Damn. I looked at the clock and it registered 2:50 AM on my blurry, sleepy vision. What the hell?  This can't be serious. I didn't accidentally set the alarm clock again, did I? I rubbed my eyes in dismay and right after I opened them, I saw the pile of books resting on my study table. Beside the terrible view is an untouched cup of cold coffee. Great, I haven't opened any of those big, fat books yet. Well, it's okay. It's not like I'm having my major exams next week, right? It's not like I'm way behind my lessons because I've been sick for a freaking week last month. Somebody please kill me now.

I sat down by the table and tried to scan my Sociology book. I don't know why I have to know the grandeur art of "socializing" when in fact I don't have to. Why do I have to be informed how people try to influence others? What's with the conflict? What's with family ties? What's with fathers and mothers and children? What's wrong with this coffee in front of me? Why is my room a mess? Why do I live in such a cruel world? I don't know--I just need sleep right now. Sleep is good. I want sleep. I want... I want...

"Hey! Wake up! God, why are you not waking up?!" I heard my mom shouting on top of her lungs. I fell asleep on my study table with my books open. I'm surprised she didn't feel proud of me and clearly, I'm offended. She offered me a glass of milk right after, though. 

I did my usual morning routine and left the house by 7 o'clock. I was supposed to wait for a bus but the next one will be coming for, like, 30 minutes. I can't sacrifice my time so I took a left turn to the train station.

-- 

What I like most about the station is that everything is fast-paced. I'm just so accustomed with rushing so that makes me hate bus stops or long lines or slow people. I bought a coffee on Joe's, got a ticket from the booth and searched for the best seat I can find. Life.

I opened my Math book and tried to read amidst the usual noise in the train. After 10 seconds, I put the book back in my bag. Maybe later. I observed the people around me and I noticed that most of the passengers are old people--professionals on their phones, grannies on their knitted cardigans, skinny women reading Vogue and parents tending their kids. Then I remembered what my friend told me, "You're an old soul." I didn't agree. I nearly do now, though, because at this point I seem to be the only teenager in this train. Weird.

After 15 minutes, the train stopped at the Eastport station. It's my destination and I have to move quickly. I tried to run fast because I only have 15 minutes left to not to be marked late. I have to run-walk a good 700 meters to 1 kilometer from this station to the university. Unluckily, the elevator's so crowded I have to descend the stairs. I ran fast with coffee on my right hand and my eyes on my watch.

Trust me, that's the most stupid thing to do while running.

I accidentally bumped into this girl who's really pretty despite her ivory white dress being drowned in my coffee. I'm such a stupid douche!

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" Another stupid thing to do: ask someone you hit if she's okay.

She didn't answer me directly. She looked at me with her discerning eyes and I knew it was okay. There's something different about her staring at me, though. It's her eyes. They are like a pair of dark abysses and it's even weirder that I thought I almost fell down. Thank God she smiled.

She then turned around and left without even taking a second look.

"Miss?" I called. 

She didn't look back.

--

I thought about her all day at school. It's peculiar because suddenly, I want this day to end so I can see her again, just to say sorry, at least.

And I did see her the next day.

She was sitting in this coffee shop by the station. She's alone. Why does she always have to be alone? I walked towards her, my heart pounding, waiting to explode.

"Miss?" I started.

Once again, she didn't look back.

"Miss?" I said, this time a little bit louder.

"What's with the shouting?" She smiled.

"Oh, I though you didn't... hear me." The truth is, for the first time in my life, I felt afraid to lose someone. I felt afraid to lose her attention.

"What made you think that?" Sit down." Her smile is one of the only few things I would love to watch every day.

"I don't know. Maybe... maybe I just spoke too soft... too embarrassed. I just... want to say sorry." I sat down. I'm 10 minutes short for school. i didn't care.

"Seriously? I hope my stained dress didn't make you think about me all day."

"Oh, no! I mean... no. Just, of course not. I just felt guilty I didn't get to say sorry." I said while pulling off an awkward smile. Liar. 

"I have to go now."

"Wait, can I ask you something?" Courage,

"Ask away." She smiled while moving her head around. Is she looking for something?

"What's you name?" I know this is a simple question. But today, being in front of her, it's like I asked a very huge favor.

"Oh." She chuckled. "Julia."

"Right, Julia." I watched her leave. The way she moves reflects something I can't quite explain. Sadness, maybe? I don't know.

The night after, I miraculously found my interest in reading my textbooks. I read too much that in fact I hardly sleep every night. Every word in the book I'm reading sometimes appears "Julia." What's with this girl?

The next morning, I woke up an hour earlier than usual. I arrived early at the station and as I expected, she's there--sitting, looking gloomier than ever yet inexplicably beautiful.

"You're a little early."

"Yeah. I uh... got something to do for school so uh... I have to be early."

"You know what's weird?" No, she didn't ask this. Please tell me she didn't.

I acted coolly. "What seems to be weird?"

"Your coffee. You like cinnamon?"

"Oh." I exhaled. "Yes, I do. Why is that?"

"Because every time I smell cinnamon,I remember the guy who drowned my dress in coffee." She laughed.

"Is that supposed to be a sweet thing to say?" I asked, chuckling.

"I don't know. I have a very bad perception of sweetness. I'm not sweet myself, you know."

You are. You have no idea.

"I have to leave now." She added.

"Why do you always leave?" I asked. I know this is a bit personal but I don't care.

She turned around. She didn't hear me. She didn't want to hear me.

I want to grab her hand but I can't. Something says I shouldn't.

She looked at me.

Sadness.

--

I smell cinnamon.

I saw a pair of teenagers slurping a Starbucks coffee while laughing on their phones. I hear a very loud music blaring through the speakers near the driver. This is definitely not the train.

Why am I on a bus?

--

The bus stopped right in front of the university. Weird, I am so accustomed with running from the station down to here. Weirder, everything is different. The day is so gloomy I'm waiting for everyone to cry a bucket. What's wrong?

The moment I got home, I told Mom to wake me up the next day an hour earlier so I can catch the train.

"What train?" 

"Seriously? The train station down there. I've been riding there for a week."

"I know where the station is! But you're not taking the train since... since that day. I'm happy you're trying to get better." She said, quite shocked.

--

I've been here at Eastport for 30 minutes but Julia isn't here yet. I have a good 45 minutes left for school and I can still wait. I ordered a pair of cinnamon coffee.

45 minutes passed and no Julia. The coffees got cold.

Where is she? Where are you, Julia?

I went to school and that day is the gloomiest day I can remember. After school, I took the train. I searched for the best seat I can find.

I observed the people around me and I noticed that most of the passengers are old people--professionals on their phones, grannies on their knitted cardigans, skinny women reading Vogue and parents tending their kids.

In front of me is a middle-aged man with what seems to be his son.

"Daddy, please don't leave me here."

"I won't." He moved his head around. Is he looking for something? There's utter sadness in his eyes. "I'm gonna be back for a sec. I'm just gonna buy coffee." Tears had filled his eyes.

"Cinnamon?" The son asked. I asked.

"Y-yes..." His eyes are so deep I thought I would fall down.

Moments later, people panicked. There were station securities around the area, people screaming and shouting.

Daddy jumped right in front of a moving train.

I smelled cinnamon. I didn't cry.

-- 

"Hey! Wake up! God, are you not waking up?!" I heard my mom shouting on top of her lungs. I fell asleep on my study table with my books open. I'm surprised she didn't feel proud of me and clearly, I'm offended. She offered me a glass of milk right after, though.

I did my usual morning routine and left the house by 7 o'clock. I was supposed to wait for a bus but the next one will be coming for, like, 30 minutes. I can't sacrifice my time so I took a left turn to the train station.

I didn't make a left turn to the train station. I didn't ride the train. I didn't buy cinnamon coffee and a ticket.

I walked right to the bus stop, waited for a bus and rode on.

I smell cinnamon.

I saw a pair of teenagers slurping a Starbucks coffee while laughing on their phones. I hear a very loud music blaring through the speakers near the driver. This is definitely not the train.

Why am I on a bus?

I've never been on a train. I created an alternate reality. I made an artistic lie. I made a beautiful story where I could dwell on; a story where I could be with someone I would never lose.

I didn't rush to school and I didn't drown Julia's ivory white dress in coffee. I didn't meet Julia. I made Julia.

And everything else on that week.

The bus stopped right in front of the university.

END

My mom said my father took suicide because of depression. I don't think so, though. There was something in his eyes that begged for understanding. There was a part of him that wanted me to realize. There was something with those abysses.

I lived my whole life in regret that I could have saved him. I could have asked him better not to leave me. I could have made him stay but today I realized it's about time I forgive myself and forgive him as well. It's time to ride the train once more.

--

Today is my major exams and I feel great about my imaginary week. I've read enough for my tests today and I'm pretty optimistic that I can still save my scholarship, all thanks to Julia. She gave me an inspiration. She gave me back the hope I lost the day my father died.

She gave me my life back.

-- 

I received my exam results and I felt happy about them. I passed every subject I took and I am looking forward to learning more.

I've been taking the train again and this time, it's for real.