Jan 22, 1999, 9:15 am


THE AIRPORT STORY

It was 6:10 am. Agnes had to be onboard by six, we all knew that, but
bided our time at one of the Manila International Airport's restaurants, drinking milk, and talking
about trivial matters. Then it was time to go. Our friends--- Fiona, her sister Elsa,
and Clariza--- got up and went ahead, knowing Agnes and I needed time to
bid our farewells.

I hugged her tight, and gave her a small kiss.
“Take care,” I said. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she told me. And gripped me like steel.
I looked at her. Her eyes had gone red. She was about to give in.
I would not have had the strength to say goodbye if she cried.
“Go,” I said.
“Ang hirap,” she said, still clinging to my shirt, unwilling to let go.
“Go now…it won’t get any easier.”
“How will you go home?” she asked me.
“I’ll take a Fairview bus down. No problem.”
“I want to see you go,” she told me.
“No. I will see you go. Please, “ I begged.

I started pushing her away from me. I know it was an unfair gesture---
somehow devoid of warmth. But I was quickly losing what little control I
had. She looked into my eyes and I could see hopelessness in the red veins
that were ringing her sweet brown pupils. Things were out of control.
The security guards were shouting thru megaphones, imploring people to
move off to the sides and wait behind the railing. Many were following.
Agnes and I were caught in the middle of the rush. The guards were
insistent. She didn’t care. Her left hand, clinging slightly to my back,
fingers imploring….right hand clutching the heavy red knapsack.

I gave her a small hug. Impersonal, I know. But it was all I could give
without breaking down in front of her and a million people. I couldn’t
cry. I knew if I started, she would follow… and we would never be able
to part.

“Go,” I told her, with tears, welling behind my eyelids.
She took one last look and joined the line. As she moved to the gate, I
could feel the despair creeping into me. Gripping me. The sobs were
coming. I looked at the line. She was getting close to the gate… The sobs were
racking my chest.

It dawned on me then that I should run to her and shout her name and ask
her to leave the line so she could hug me one more time ---like some
scene out of a Meg Ryan romantic comedy, replete with swirling emotional
soundtrack of vibrato strings… But if I did, I would never be able to
let her go, I would not be capable of releasing her from my arms. It
would only make things more difficult. And then I was afraid of what the
crowd would think. Stupid little Lionel , always terrified of others
opinons, always so trapped with thoughts of derision or ridicule.

So… in the most difficult few minutes of my life… I shut up.
And let her enter the glass sliding doors towards the departure area.
I didn’t utter a word.

I waited to see if she would emerge, but she didn’t.
And suddenly I knew it was the single stupidest thing I’d done.
Instead of madly proclaiming my love for her before a crowd whom I
couldn’t care less about, I stayed silent. Instead of passionately
embracing her till I squeezed the tears from both our eyes, I stood
still.

I descended the stairs and walked part of the way to the bus stop. But I
had to stop and sit down. I could not continue…
I cried like a child torn from the womb, with great big hulking sobs
that would not quit. I rubbed at my eyes with the pink Mickey Mouse
towelette that Agnes gave me just hours
before, suddenly wishing my bandmate
Derek who drove us to the airport
were still around so I’d have a great big shoulder to lean on…. But
knowing it was better that I sat on the cement and relished the utter
stupidity of my decisions. Knowing this would help me seize what
fleeting moments we’d have in the future… Knowing I had to face this
alone.

I was crying and cursing and praying to God at the same time, whispering
“Putangina” and “Please Lord, keep her safe” with the same breath.
Everything I’d tried so hard to control was loose.

Somehow or other I found my way into a Fairview bus. But even there, the
sobs came. And of course the music didn’t help. The radio was
tuned to WRock, and right after “Let the Love Begin” came Dan
Fogelberg’s “Longer”. Hell suddenly became a cold bus after an airport
goodbye with a wet pink towelette and a Dan Fogelberg song that rips
through your heart like a hatchet. And an empty seat right next to you…

Thirty minutes or so later the tears dried, as they usually do. And the
driver switched over to WLS-FM, that crappy campus radio station, but it
somehow lifted my spirits. And the sun beamed bright over the metropolis
I’ve come to love and hate simultaneously. And I made myself two promises:
(1) I will write things down to tell her how I feel and
(2) the hell with what people think.
Never mind if it’s a bit late. Never mind if the crowd jeers. I swear
the next time a thought whips thru my mind like “I should run and give
her a dramatic embrace at the airport”, I’m doing it, man.

And I knew Agnes was somewhere in the clouds, riding off to a new
chapter of her life. And I knew things would turn out all right. After
all, she was wearing my engagement ring, right? And we do have a
commitment that will definitely lead us to the altar, right? The thought
calmed me enough to endure the rest of the trip without further sobbing;
enough to welcome the sunshine without tears.

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