Serendipity
by Joanne Marie Combong-Pijuan

Summer tales (Part II)

I sobbed all the way back to Iloilo partly because I knew I was leaving behind my summer love and partly because I was in excruciating pain -- literally. I had the worst case of sunburn (try swimming from morning till noon for 2 months and you'll get the drift) as well as afflicted by a terminal case of puppy love. “Hunky” and I swore to keep in touch, and the best way to do that was of course, through the old fashioned way -- via snail mail.

However, after two letters, “Hunky” stopped writing. I told myself he was probably just busy, what with swimming practice (he was with the La Salle swim team) and adjusting to his new life as a freshman. The days dragged by and after almost one year of not hearing from him, I stopped rationalizing and making excuses (I know, it took me that long but what can I do, I was 11 and dense – the latter, a character flaw I have since then completely corrected).

Right after school ended for the summer break, I packed my bags and went back to Negros to do a little sleuthing and more importantly to get closure (everybody wants closure, even 11 year-olds). I had to find out what really went wrong -- was it because of my figure “1” or was it because there was a number “2”? I knew I was never good in math but this time I calculated it right. “Hunky” had a new girlfriend. And to make matters worse, she was no other than my cousin! Ouch!

I went home that summer as pale as a ghost, sans the sunburn, and with a broken heart. But as all things go when you're 11 going on 12, you recover quickly – too quickly in fact. Because the next thing I knew I was going gaga over Menudo (not the dish but the boy group) and Ricky Martin became my unofficial boyfriend. Oh well, another long distance relationship – apparently, I never learned my lesson.

Four years after that harrowing summer and after my “relationship” with Ricky Martin petered out (a relationship that he never knew about to this very day); I went off to study in Manila. On the summer of '89, I left Iloilo for the “City of Man”. The moment I got to the UP Diliman Campus, I knew my life would never be the same again.

I was 16 going on 17, and I was about to embark on an exciting, mysterious journey called “college”. Before I left I was forewarned by a lot of concerned people about the perils of studying in UP, but I was not deterred. I knew what I wanted and I was going to get it. I wanted to be a full-fledged adult – nothing more, nothing less. And that summer, I got just what I wanted.

It was a particularly hot and humid summer day when I took my first Ikot jeepney ride ( Ikot jeeps are jeeps that literally go around the huge campus, thus the name). Because of the heat, almost all the passengers were wearing shorts and sleeveless shirts except for this one guy who was sitting right in front of me and was garbed in a black trench coat. Fashion victim? Maybe. Loony? Possibly. The word “weirdo” also came to mind and so did “eccentric Fine Arts student” (no offense but most of the FA students in UP look like the type). I was mulling over what other twisted names I could call him when he suddenly shouted “ Para!” The Ikot lurched to a stop and trench coat whacko gave me a creepy, sleazy smile before he jumped out. I cringed and looked away, and before I could say, “sick maniac”, the woman beside me screamed.

“Flasher!” And there he was. The trench coat clad psycho opened his coat and gave new meaning to the UP Oblation. For the first time in my life, I saw an ugly version of it minus the wilted leafy appendage – and the sight was jarring to say the least. Fernando Poe, Sr. (the Oblation was modeled after FPJ's late father) was probably turning in his grave.

And so, I got what I wanted that summer – adulthood. After seeing what I saw, (believe me, I was scarred for life) I instantly lost my innocence and naïveté. There, aboard a battered, creaky Ikot jeep -- I came of age.

(To be continued)