Monday Blues

Miguel frantically reached for the alarm clock to stop its incessant blare. 10 minutes past 7.

 “Damn it!”

He barely slept. The noise coming from the construction site in front of his parent’s house kept him awake for most parts of the evening. It has been 3 weeks since the project started and up until yesterday he hasn’t seen any signs that it would be completed any time soon.

 “How long does it take to lay water pipes anyway?”, he blurted as he got out of bed.

 It’s a Monday and he needs to be at work by 9:30, or at least arrive before his boss does. After a hastily-taken bath, he grabbed the first polo shirt he laid his eyes on and dressed up while having an internal debate whether to eat breakfast or not. He decided not to and hurriedly went out and hailed a passing jeepney.

“God, I hate Mondays!”

His father, watching the diggings, shouted at him: “Miguel, umuwi ka ng maaga mamaya, walang magbabantay ng bahay, may pupuntahan kami ng nanay mo!”

At 24, Miguel still lives with his parents, not out of choice, but out of necessity. He can’t afford to rent one of his own with his salary, so he has to put up with his parent’s constant scolding and the daily 2-hour commute to work. He nodded to acknowledge his father’s call and waived him off.

The jeepney was packed but he managed to squeeze in between an old lady and an even older lady, both probably heading for the wet market.

“Perfect! I hate Mondays!”

 The heat was unbearable and the engine exhausts coming from the streets are making things worse. Barely sitting for almost an hour, Miguel’s arms are already aching from hanging on to the rails, supporting maybe half of his weight.

“Para nalang po sa tabi!” The old lady in his right suddenly shouted. The jeepney stopped, the old lady slowly left her seat and disembarked.

“Finally, some space,” Miguel mumbled, adjusting his sitting position. But before his back could touch the back rest, a girl came rushing to fill in the vacated sit. Tough luck. He was about to say something impulsive when the girl turned and looked at him.

And then nothing.

He suddenly felt empty.

Suddenly, he didn’t mind the noise, the smell, and the heat.

There was nothing except the girl beside him, her shoulders touching his – and still looking at him. His mouth partially open, he totally forgot what he was about to say. Looking stupid, he gave up the idea of speaking.

“My God, she is beautiful!” he thought, trying hard to compose himself.

He expected some kind of retort from her but instead she just smiled, probably amused by his vacant, idiotic stare. He felt awkward and realized he hadn't made a very good first impression on her.

The next 30 minutes was torture.

He wanted to talk to her, or at least know her name, get her number, but for some reason, he can’t muster the courage to even move. She occasionally turned her head in his direction, probably feeling his uneasiness. Each time, he turned to the opposite direction. “Torpe! Torpe!”

Another 10 minutes of mustering.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew from the side, he barely noticed it but he was sure he caught the scent of perfume, mild and sweet. He moved a little closer, pretending to get something from his pocket, he caught the scent again. Heavenly.

Suddenly, she turned. Her hair lashing out like little whips, striking his right eye. He winced and covered his eye with a hand. Before he could get a handkerchief out, his eye was already swelling with tears, dripping profusely. She turned, looked at him inquiringly but with no apparent intention of asking why he was ‘crying’. Miguel was about to explain but again, he could not seem to form reasonable sentences with his mouth.

“What a second, first impression!”

Not only did he felt like an idiot now, he felt like an emotionally-unstable idiot. Whatever courage he mustered in the past minutes was now wiped clean together with his tears.

Another 10 minutes.

Still nothing. He shifted a little bit to avoid cramps in his leg. She shifted to. For a moment he thought he saw her glancing at him. Or was it just his imagination, manifesting his desire for attention from her? And then another glance. Their eyes met, she immediately shifted, turning her back towards him. “Damn it!”

Every minute, he was getting closer to his destination. Every minute, lost opportunities. She might even get off before him.

Her back was still on him. After each sudden stops, she got closer and closer to him, until her back rests comfortably on his side. She made no move to widen the gap between them even when the passenger in her right already left. Even then, he could not gather the courage to speak. Then she called, "Para na po!"

He felt suddenly out of breath. All he could do was watch her as she turned, and slowly left her seat. 

She glanced at him, a trace of disappointment in her eyes. She saw his dismayed expression, then she stopped.

"Sorry for the eye, I'm Niki by the way," then she continued and disembarked. 

"Do you always take this route?" he called back to her.

She turned and said, "Only on Mondays."