Our Cry

I found the seashell he gave me and maybe it was the reason for all these. Maybe if I didn’t find it, I won’t remember any of these. But now that I’m holding it, the flashbacks refused to stop.

Lots of things swam back at me. Or maybe they were just there, lying still in a cabinet on the corner of my mind and waiting for me to touch it again. But it was somehow stacked in a grumpy way. It just piled up in a trash-like mountain. The memories, I mean.

His voice. My doubts. His hands. Us. His gestures. Her. My scores. Him. Me. Them. Ours. My graduation. First day of school. Secret meetings. Groceries. His graduation. Percy Jackson. Christmas. Conditioner. Text message. Stranger. Mistake.

I touched each and everything, trying to put it in order.

I need to.

I want to.

I feel like I should.

I started picking it one by one.

***

The first thing he said to me was, ‘Hi.’

Oh, scratched that.

The first text message he sent me was, ‘Hi.’

Back when I was in high school, unlimited texting was offered for the first time. I found it amusing that once you registered to 258, you can send as much text as you want for a day, or even a couple of days - not caring if it's important or not. Maybe some group of kids my age was bored and they created the “text clan” thing. It began to be a big hit, actually. We did not become the texting capital of the world for nothing, and one of my friends, Charlie, was absolutely enjoying it.

I was happy for her, I swear.

She was excited when there was a clan that some of our upperclassmen created. She had been the social butterfly of the group and she seemed to be having a nice time knowing other people.

I still don’t know how she managed to do that as I don’t, and probably won’t, fancy meeting new people every day, but I was happy for her. I swear.

I just began hating it when she kept passing my number to her “clanmates.”

‘God, Cha, I told you not to do that,’ I remembered saying to her the next school morning after I received that text. We met at the lockers and still a bit early to run to our classroom.

She began laughing as she shoved and took some of her books. I was annoyed by her at that time. I’m sure I was, so I slapped her arms.

‘Aww!’ She groaned but laughed again. ‘I promise I wouldn't give your number anymore. But can you at least be a little kinder?’

‘I just went straight to the point-’

‘Exactly! You told the guy, “sorry but I don't talk to strangers,” the moment he just sent you a friendly greeting,’ she tugged my hair down after saying that then continued. ‘Two words for you, girl. Move on.’

Okay. I admit it was pretty harsh to say something like that. I just... okay. I just broke up with my first boyfriend at that time, which I dated for half a year, and I am not ready for a new love. I didn’t like the fact that Cha has been giving out my number to whoever asked for it. I really didn’t like it...back then.

What if I didn’t send that rude reply? What if I’d gone to the flow? What if I flirted? What if I just did what she told me and just moved on? What will be the outcome if I did all these what ifs?

That was all the first thought folder was about. He sent me a message. I don't know who he was but I shut myself in. It was sophomore year. I mentally noted it File #1 and put it back in.