Sun, Sand, and a Broken Heart

The sky’s darkening, and the sun’s setting from a distance. Some buildings start turning their lights on. I can clearly see the ad displayed on the LED billboard from my window. Its bright display contrasts from the darkening sky backdrop. Everyone’s day is almost ending yet here I am, my back still stuck my bed and looking at the ceiling. I clutch my cellphone on my chest. Every time I swipe it open to read and re-read the same message he sent almost a month ago, my tears still cannot help but roll down my cheeks in an endless waterworks.

How long have I been this way? I don’t know. I refused to leave my room and if was possible to not eat, I wouldn’t. It’s still difficult for me to come to terms with my reality. Everything seems surreal. It’s still beyond my imagination that a person’s world could crumble in a blink of an eye. It’s like an asteroid smashed my world. I did not see it coming. I was blissfully attending to our wedding preparations, then…. Bam! His text message came in and brought me my apocalypse.

Jared: Via, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I realized I am not ready for marriage, for a lifetime commitment. I’m sorry, please forgive me.

Yes, he broke up with me through a text message. A few keystrokes from his smartphone ended our three-year relationship. Don’t I at least deserve a call or a Facetime even? Shit, is that all I am and all we’ve shared amount to? He reduced all the time and love I gave him to a hundred and thirty-two characters, including spaces. He crushed my universe in a single text message.

Did I really suck so much as a girlfriend? I have been asking myself these questions since the day I received his text. Fuck, we were no ordinary girlfriend and boyfriend. We were engaged, for crying out loud. We were a couple for three years. He introduced me to his friends and his family. He bent down on one knee and popped me the question, ring and all. Fuck, we’re weeks away from sharing a surname, and he ended it with JUST a text message. How is that right?

I still cannot get over it. I called him and texted him despite knowing he has turned off his device or changed numbers. When I couldn’t get through him, I tried his friends and family, but they too could not get in touch with him. They, like me, are shocked and flabbergasted with what he has done.

My fingers have almost lost their prints from the messages I’ve sent him. All I want is an answer to my question, my only question: Why? Did I do anything wrong? What was wrong? Was I not enough? I begged him to see me, talk to me, and return to me. But all those questions fell into a bottomless abyss.

I finally got the infamous Jared Castro cold shoulder. He could really be an asshole if he wanted to. In my case, he won the Asshole of the Year Award. He deserved it.

So yeah, he left me undone just like that. And the icing on the cake? He left me with the responsibility of facing wedding suppliers. I don’t know where I got the strength to face them to let them know there will be no wedding. I apologized, haggled, and begged for refunds or, if possible, to no longer pay for our balance. That was only the easy round.

The challenging part was making the personal call to families and friends. I racked my brain to find the right words to say. How does one say to their friends and families that the happily ever after they wished us has fizzled out? I consoled people when I needed consoling, too.

But that’s only the beginning. After they’ve recovered from their shock, a string of questions would follow—their endless whys and what happeneds.

Why? I don’t know. That was my biggest question too. Only Mr. Asshole of the Year has the answer, but he’s missing in action. Argh, how I hated him!

And the boss round was talking to my parents. I got countless “I told you so”s from them when I told them what happened. They did not approve of him for me right from the start. My parents were intuitive people. Both are excellent judges of character. So, no matter how many and how expensive his gifts were, Jared never got their approval, especially my Mom’s.

They told me countless times Jared was self-absorbed and entitled. Jared, they said, loved no one but himself. They warned me if I were to continue my relationship with him, I’ll only end up hurt.

My father told me to breakup with him when I introduced him to them. Of course, I did not listen and disobeyed them. What could I do? I loved him.

I did not know how to face them. I felt so embarrassed and ashamed for disobeying them. And yes, their assessment of him was correct. Had I listened, this would not have happened. They did not say the words; their eyes said it all. I’d given them another disappointment.

Every time I want to prove to them I made the right choice, the universe slaps me with the painful truth about how right they were and how wrong I was. I hated seeing the disappointed look in their eyes, especially my mom’s. All my life, all I wanted to do was please them and make them proud. By the looks of it, it seems like it’s far from happening.

To relieve my stress, I sold everything that I could sell. The wedding gown I would no longer use, the wedding rings, the engagement ring, and a slew of wedding-related items I didn’t know existed six months ago. Everything except for the Malta trip.

So here I am, my eyes trained on my laptop’s screen and surfing the Malta Tourism page. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been on this site.

“Whether you’re a history buff, a night owl, an adrenaline junkie, or simply a rambler wishing to be bowled over by natural splendor, the list of things to do in Malta is endless.

Whatever you’re looking for on a holiday, with so much to see and do, a trip to the Maltese Islands is an unmissable experience for any type of traveler.”

“What about traveling to heal a broken heart?” I murmur as I browse through the pictures in their gallery. Malta’s turquoise beaches and renaissance architecture never fail to make my heart feel giddy. This is my only reminder that, yes, I am still alive. I cannot help but sigh as I click through the images in the gallery. We were supposed to have our honeymoon here, had not the Asshole of the Year called off our wedding.

I’ve always wanted to visit the tiny island. Two weeks of sun and sand is a small compensation for all the heartache and trouble I got from our breakup. So yeah, it’s the vacation I deserved.

Yes, I know it’s a honeymoon package. I do not give a shit. I am beyond caring about other people’s opinions. Nothing will stop me from having that vacation. Not even getting jilted can stop me. Who says I can’t use a honeymoon package on my lonesome? All I want is to get away from all the mess Jared Castro brought me. So yeah, solitary honeymoon vacation, if there’s such a thing, it is!

When my eyes got their fill of Malta’s picturesque views, I shifted to the shopping site. I add two bikinis and sunscreen to my cart before checking out. I will enjoy this vacation to the fullest. From all the trouble and heartaches I got, I know I deserved this vacation and so do the bikinis I added. Plus, they are on sale. Fifty percent off.

“I deserve this!” I mutter to myself as I punch in my credit card information on the shopping site.

I also do not forget to visit a couple of company’s careers pages and apply to their open positions. My career is another aspect of my life that fell victim to Jared.

I had a promising career in the BPO world. Yes, a call center. I get fulfillment from the work that I do and the people I work with there. My boss was a great mentor who encouraged my development. Not to mention my charming pay and benefits package.

But being the egotist that Jared was, he insisted I quit my job because he could afford to support me. It did not sit well on his ego, that he, the high and mighty Jared Castro, had a girlfriend who clocked in and out for a company like any ordinary employee would. Like my mother, he hated I worked for the BPO industry. It’s a dead-end job, he said. After a series of fights, I let him have his way. I gave up the job that I loved because I valued our relationship more. I could not bear the thought of him leaving me. So, I gave up the career I loved because I loved him more. Biggest. Mistake. Ever.

His financial support ended with our relationship. It’s a no-brainer; I need to get a job now more than ever. My bank account is drying. My savings are on the brink of depletion.

Being unemployed for a year is a resume buster. I’ve sent my applications to several companies already, and I have yet to receive an interview invitation. I’ve been in the Business Process Outsourcing world since I was in college as a part-time employee. Name a post in the call center world, I probably have tried it—supervisor, trainer, Quality Analyst, Real Time Analyst, and so on. So, despite being out of a job for a year, it is not an option to accept an entry-level post, which is the quickest way to get a job. I know my skills and market value.

My eyes dart at the time on my screen. It’s almost eight in the evening. I sigh. I’ve reached my quota of stalking, online shopping, and surfing the net all day. So, what now, Sylvia Kate Yabut?

My phone has been beeping and vibrating like crazy. My friends have been urging me to go out ever since the breakup. It’s not healthy being cooped up in my apartment, they said. Well, they’re right. It’s not healthy. Not only because I shop online like there’s no tomorrow, but also because my solitude reminds me of my misery.

Their idea of fun never piqued my interest. The loud noise and cramped spaces of bars never excited me as much as it did them. I have no qualms spending a perfectly good day at home, watching TV, reading a book, playing a game, or web surfing. I’m an introvert through and through. Staying at home never bothered me. In fact, I love it.

“What?” I say as I finally answer my best friend’s call.

Josephine “Joey” Ramos has been my friend since when we were still in diapers. Our moms are best friends and so we grew up together and ended up being best friends too. We are opposites. Joey enjoyed clubbing, while I preferred silence. She’s the life of the party, and I am a wallflower. But despite our differences, we always see eye-to-eye on things that matter. Like family and relationships.

“Open your door,” she says. Her irritation is clear in her voice. I can imagine her rolling her eyes when she said those words.

I open the door. She has a six-pack of beer in one hand and a couple boxes of pizza in the other.

That’s the way to do it, Joey.

I leave the door open, walk to my living room, and slump in my two-seater couch. Joey follows suit after kicking my door shut. She then puts the boxes of pizza and beer on my center table before joining me on the couple’s couch.

I do not need an invitation. I open the pizza box and take a slice from it. Mmm, pepperoni, my favorite!

“Glutton,” Joey teases as she pops open a beer can and gives it to me. I only roll my eyes at her and take the beer can she offered. “So, what’s the plan? Rot in this apartment and wait for Jared to come back?” she asks before she brings the beer can to her mouth and gulps the bitter liquid.

“Nope. I’m going to Malta,” I answer while chewing on my pizza. My eyes automatically close as I savor the saltiness and smokey flavor of the pepperoni.

“Malta? Isn’t that where you were supposed to have your honeymoon?”

“Yup.”

“Aaaand you’re still going?” Joey makes it sound like it’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever had.

“Yes, why? That trip is already booked and paid,” I arch a brow at her, challenging her to negate me.

“Yeah, it’s already paid. But, Via, it’s a honeymoon package,” she tries to make me listen to reason. She stresses on the word “honeymoon” to make a point.

“So?” I take a paper towel to wipe the oil on my mouth before taking a swig of beer.

“So, you’re supposed to spend it with somebody,” she says. She speaks slowly, as if talking to a five-year-old.

“I get it. You wanted to come with me and freeload,” I tease.

“Crazy!”

“Whatever. I’m going, come hell or high water. I’m not violating any laws by going on a vacation on my lonesome.”

“Hello, Sylvia. Honeymoon, darling. Honeymoon.” She stretches her words out to jog something in my mind. She rolls her eyes at me when she does not get the reaction she wants to see on my face. “Via, honeymoon means you have to have a partner, bimbo.”

“I know that, jackass. Anyway, I already made calls, and they’re fine with me spending the honeymoon package alone. They also did not change the perks and inclusions,” I say my words in the same manner she said “honeymoon” earlier.

“Whatever floats your boat, Via,” she says, finally giving up. She gulps down the content of her beer can before reaching for a slice of pizza. “So, what do you want to do?”

“Nothing,” I say and take my third slice of pizza.

“I mean, what’s your plan after your vacation? Darling, you can’t just lock yourself up here and sulk.”

“Of course, I know that. I sent my resume to some companies already and am hoping they’d reach out to me for when I come back. My bills won’t pay themselves. I need a job.”

“We have an opening for a Business Analyst. You want to give it a shot?” She looks at me from the beer can she’s chugging.

“I don’t know, Joey. I mean, you work for a Forbes 100 company… Business Analyst… Can I do that? As you know, I got my degree in Comparative Literature. Whatever I know about business is all self-taught. My knowledge on Excel or SQL is also basic, more so on Big Data. Also, I’ve been unemployed for a year. I’m already rusty.”

“Of course, you are qualified. You’re great, Via. You are a fast learner, and your work attitude is stellar.” She smiles at me. Since we were young, Joey always knew how to pacify my doubts.

I often second guess myself and my abilities. Only she believes in me. She’s been my cheerleader ever since we were kids. Sometimes when I’ve already given up on myself, she hasn’t. She still believes in me and pushes me forward. This is among the many reasons I love her.

“Give me a copy of your resume. I’ll give our head a copy. If he finds your qualifications suitable, then good. Otherwise, you can move on and look for other companies. At least you’ve got Royal Eagle ticked from your checklist. You have nothing to lose here, Via.”

“Fine. Get my resume from my Jobstreet account. You know my credentials, anyway,” I say. I force myself to sound nonchalant, but in reality, my heart cannot contain itself in my chest. Royal Eagle is the best IT firm there is. It just established its presence in the Philippines, but globally, they are known as the pioneer in cloud computing. Working for Royal Eagle is a huge resume booster, not to mention their salary package, which is to die for.

“How are you and Auntie?” she asks, changing the topic before biting her pizza. Her eyes never leave mine. I sigh at her question.

“You know Mama, Joey. She did not need to open her mouth. Just by looking at her, I know she’s disappointed. What’s new, right? I can’t blame her. When have I ever done something that met their expectations?” I answer, shrugging my shoulders. I can feel my tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. My hand reaches for the last beer can on the table, opens it, and chugs its contents.

“This is all Jared’s fault,” she says, her tender eyes surveying me.

“Not everything. I am at fault, too. I mean, from the onset, Mama and Papa had already told me their disapproval. They told me the red flags they saw, but I did not listen and remained stubborn. You know, for once, I wanted to show them, especially Mama, that I could do it. That I wouldn’t mess up. But I was wrong, and they were right. Again.”

Joey knows exactly when words are necessary and when they are not. This is when words are unnecessary. She remains quiet and just rubs my back and gives me a tight hug. She lets me cry on her shoulders, not minding if my snot stains her shirt.

To be honest, I don’t know which is more painful—Jared jilting me or getting slapped with the painful truth that I messed up once again. All my life, all I wanted was to gain a nod of approval from Mama. She’s been so strict with me. She’s never failed to lecture me about life. And every time I attempted to prove myself, I always ended up stumbling.

Despite my mistakes, and the many times I’ve let them down, they never abandoned me. Yes, they’ve chastised me, given me endless lectures, but never abandoned me. I’ve lost count of how many “had you listened to us, this would not have happened,” or “I told you so,” or “this is what we’ve been saying, Via. You are so stubborn. Look what happened,” I have received. But after their anger has subsided, they give me another chance.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes, when I have committed a big mistake, I feel like I don’t deserve their affection. I’d much rather they screamed at me or hurt me because I’d deserved it. But they don’t. My parents are the cold treatment type of parents. And for me, that’s the worst.

When they just walk past you, not acknowledging your presence, not talking to you, that’s the worst feeling of all. And the more they do not talk to me, the more I feel how much of a failure I am.

Joey and I end up ordering another box of pizza and buying another six cans of beer. After our session, we both collapse on my queen-sized bed. Both of us wake up the following day with a throbbing headache and a morning beer breath.

“Hey,” I greet her. She sits at my dining table, clutching her head, dying. She does not bother looking in my direction or responding to my greeting.

I put a glass of water in front of her. “Drink up,” I say. She lifts her head from her hands like it’s the most arduous task she’s done in her life. I nudge the glass closer to her. She picks up the glass and painstakingly puts it to her mouth and gulps the water down.

“I’m dying, Via. Please take care of my Mom when I’m gone.” She drags out her words.

“Stop being dramatic, Ramos. It’s not your first hangover,” I say, rolling my eyes at her. Joey is the biggest baby I know.

“I love you too, friend,” she drawls, gets up, and walks back into my room. She plops herself on my bed and sleeps.

She sleeps in my room until noon. “I’m famished,” she says, rubbing her belly as she walks out of my room, bed hair and all. We’ve been friends since forever, and she has no inhibitions around me. Like right now, nobody would believe me if I said the sexy Joey Ramos behaves like a guy when she just woke up. She yawns like a monster and sometimes scratches her front. Had we not bathed naked together when we were kids, I’d really think she has morning wood.

“Afternoon,” I say, taking my eyes away from my mobile phone. I’ve gotten hooked on some juvenile shooting game app. “I made some beef soup; heat it up,” I tell her without lifting my head to look at her.

“Die, you moron!” I scream at the game I’m playing as I slay a boss level monster.

After a while, the smell of beef broth comes from the kitchen. Joey walks out with a tray in her hands. She puts a bowl down in front of me while she holds her bowl in her hands and spoons some into her mouth.

I put my phone down and join her in eating the soup I made.

“You’re really a splendid cook, Via. You’re wife material, and Jared was an asshole for dumping you.”

I answer her with a forced smile and a shrug.

Joey goes home after she finished the whole batch of the chocolate cookies I made. But that’s not all. She even packed my left over kare-kare and mango float.

It’s been hours since Joey left. So here I am, once again, by my lonesome. I’ve completed a couple of levels in the game I’m playing. After that, I’d cleaned my apartment and re-arranged the furniture. I’ve also finished my laundry. After doing these things, I’d hoped my stress level would have decreased, but it didn’t. So, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I pick up my purse and my car keys and head to the mall.

I stroll the mall like a lost soul, going in and out of shops, looking at items without an intention of buying anything. I see a movie but doze off in the middle. Binging on junk food is the only activity that gives me pleasure. It is already nighttime when I drive my car out of the mall’s parking.

That has been my routine for almost two months now. Clean my apartment like crazy, rearrange my furniture, play mobile games, and wallow in self-pity. Other times, I find myself lost in online shopping or stalking. My life is a total wreck, and I hate it.

I need to break this cycle and fast. I want my old life back. The life I had pre-Jared Castro. I was a vibrant, spontaneous person then. Quiet, but happy. But then, he sucked the life out of me. Now, I am nothing but a lost soul. An angry, frustrated, depressed loser. The twenty-year-old me would run in the opposite direction if she were to bump into the current me.

I need a break. Badly. So, no matter what happens, I am going to Malta. It’s my life’s reset button. My hope for a new lease on life is all on those ten days I’ll spend in Malta. I hope to forget all the pain and ugliness Jared brought. I hope that after those ten days, I’ll come back happy and full of life and hope. It’s my reset button. I wish to bury the old Sylvia and return as Sylvia 2.0. Rebooted. Enhanced. Enriched. Revived.