The first year was too hard for them. It was the year when they had to constantly struggle from pain and loneliness caused by Remma's absence. And the things they'd done together seemed too hard and heavy for them to keep doing without her. They had struggled and poured their efforts to keep everything as normal and unaffected as before, but they knew it from their hearts that it would never be. And so they had felt the need to reach out to her, and she had reached out to them, too, to keep herself from missing them so badly. And that had gone for two years. The year after that, their exchange of letters had become less frequent, and they had started to forget some things they used to do. And, unknowingly, the world had revolved against theirs. Three years after that, they had no longer heard from Remma, and Remma had heard nothing more from them. And they couldn't remember who had stopped writing letters first. And they had thought less of it over time.



"Turn the volume up," Donald, now a fourth year high school student, said as he took a bite from the fried chicken he was holding with his right hand. Leandro didn't hear him clearly because the sea breeze swept his voice and scattered it into the air. Their fishing boat rocked tenderly against the small waves.

"What?" Leandro, who was his classmate and basketball buddy at the same time, glanced at him.

"The volume, turn it up."

Leandro turned the dial of the battery-operated AM/FM receiver. The voice of Gwen Stefani drowned the serenity around them.

"It's 'Don't Speak'," Donald continued. "The band's called 'No Doubt'."

"No Doubt. What an odd name for a band," Leandro commented as he dug himself to the food on the Tupperware that he was holding with his left hand.

"Did you hear the rumor about the Spice Girls?" Donald asked.

"What about them?"

"That they're a bunch of gays?"

Leandro looked at him and frowned. "No way."

"Just a rumor," Donald shrugged and went back to eating.

"I have a crush on Posh."

"Nah. Too sophisticated. I like Baby Spice," Donald remarked.

"Oh, yeah, she's hot," he agreed. "But too innocent-looking."

"What, you like Samantha?" Donald laughed. "She's hot and liberated."

"From Section B? Get out," he frowned and shook his head.

Donald chuckled.

Silence.

Leandro pushed the oar, which was lying on the floor, aside and took a bottle of Coke from the styropore and gave it to his friend. Then he took another one for him.

"When you ever start courting a girl?"

Leandro didn't look at him. He acted like he didn't hear him. "What?"

"Okay," Donald sighed deeply and slapped the outside walling of the boat with his left hand in exasperation. "Here we go again."

"You know my answer, and you're gonna hear the same now." He opened the bottle with his teeth, and then gulped some soda.

"C'mon, be serious. School will be over in two months and you haven't even told me yet about your crush at school."

"I found nobody I like yet. Maybe in college," he threw a piece of the fried chicken to the water and watched enthusiastically the small school of fish that began feasting around it.

"You're unbelievable."

"That's me."

"You're completely honest?"

Leandro nodded.

Donald looked at him for some time, remembered something, and then suddenly smiled to himself.

"Do you still have Rem's picture?" Donald asked him casually.

He hesitated. He couldn't sense where the sudden change of conversation was leading to, but he took some precautions. "Uh-huh."

"Where'd you put it?" Donald still didn't look at him. He just continued eating.

"In my photo album. Where else?"

"I don't know. Your wallet?"

"I don't have one, and you know that."

"Oh, yeah," Donald said, nodding. "But Julia said she saw it in your bed."

"She's lying."

"She is?"

Leandro gave in and rolled his eyes, and said that once or twice he took it from the album and held it when he sleep.

Donald's stifled amusement erupted into laughter.

Leandro realized what it was about.

"Hey!" he said defensively. "It's not what you think. I know you still think about her, too. Admit it."

"Yeah, but not like sleeping with her pictures in my hand."

"It's not what you think."

Donald's eyes narrowed teasingly as he looked at him, and then nodded amusingly. "Oh, yeah. Sure."



After their lunch break they proceeded to the site where they had submerged the fish nets, circled around it once more to scare the fish and eventually lead them into the nets. When they came to rest and waited once more, Donald said he was in the mood to swim.

"Do you ever wonder how she's been?" Leandro asked as Donald took off his shirt.

"Yes, sometimes," Donald replied. "But not as often as you do."

Leandro threw a chicken bone at him. Donald winced.

"Stop that."

"It's true?"

Leandro did not answer. Instead he went on. "It's been three years since her last letter. She seems to be forgetting us already."

"Well, the thing is, we stopped writing her, too. It's either she forgets us or we do," Donald looked at him in the eye, and then went on to fold his shirt.

"I still miss her."

"You see? It's not ordinary anymore."

Exhausted, Leandro said, "Okay, okay."

Donald grinned victoriously. After he placed the folded shirt on top of the styropore cover, he spoke seriously, "Write her a letter."

"I don't know what to say."

Donald squinted his eyes and spoke knowingly, "Oh, you know exactly what you're going to say."

"Maybe you should write her, too."

"I have nothing else to write except consuming the whole page explaining why we stopped writing her letters. But you, you have something to write more important than that," Donald said as he unzipped his pants.

Leandro leaned forward, pressed his elbows against his knees, folded his arms between his legs, and said, "Her grandma said they've changed their address."

"I'll take care of that. I'll go ask Lola Dorya for the address."

"You're gonna do that?"

"Uh-huh."

"Gee, thanks."

"Nah," Donald dismissed it by waving his right hand forward and down. After a while, as he stood there naked and the boat rocked under his weight, he asked, "You sure you ain't swimming?"

"The sun's already high. You'll get sunburn."

"Well, not only me," Donald said and then threw himself into the water in an awkward angle on his attempt to dive headfirst but lacked enough height. When he resurfaced he hit the water with the base of his right palm, which then sent a shower of seawater toward Leandro enough to wet his shirt.

Leandro protested, but Donald just kept laughing.Then came another one. And another. He quickly undressed himself and went after his friend who was now boisterously laughing. The echoes of their yelling and laughter tore the quietude of the afternoon sea.



During recess at school, if not chatting around with his classmates or sitting in the cafeteria with his best friend or in the gym doing a basketball round, he would consume the whole thirty minutes digging himself on books. Sometimes he would excuse himself from his group of friends, and some other times he would go in the library with Donald. But that was rare, for most of the time Donald would just go with him if he felt like reading, which seldom happened. But Donald knew where to find him every time he's not around with him, just like today.

Leandro found an empty table next to the huge west window, which was visible from the main door, and from the strict, man-eating librarian. He was flipping pages of an astronomy book, found the page where he stopped during his last visit, and then continued reading. Beside him was an unopened encyclopedia.

He was reading about space explorations when he noticed someone walked toward him and stood in front of him. He looked up and saw Leah, his classmate since their first year but were never close. He didn't ask himself why, for he never had the slightest urge or reason to. They had different group of friends, dissimilar interests, different taste on most things. They just knew each other as casual friends. But today he was completely surprised to see her in the library, alone.

"May I sit with you?" she asked.

"Sure," he said with inquisitive look.

"You don't mind? I'm not disturbing you?"

"No, it's OK."

Leah grabbed a chair and sat. "Is that an Astronomy book?"

He darted his eyes from her to the book and back to her, and then smiled faintly. "Yes, the only one here."

"Astronomy is interesting."

"You think so?" he was surprised to hear that, but was skeptical to believe her.

"Uh-huh," Leah affirmed. "Why don't you share it with me? What you're reading now."

"You serious?"

"Yes. Tell me something about stars and comets. Those, I'm more fascinated with," Leah managed a smile.

After thinking about it for a while, he nodded and said, "Alright." He paused, and then went on, "The comet we saw back in '92, remember that?"

Leah nodded. Yeah, she remembered.

"It was the only comet believed to come into contact with our planet," he said, knowingly.

"You mean collision?" Leah's forehead wrinkled.

He nodded. "But, that's the basic theory. After some recalculations and study they said it might not happen at all."

"That's scary," Leah said, expressing her pure concern.

"Well, not in our lifetime at least."

"It's still scary."

Leandro thought for a moment, trying to scan his memory for something more interesting to share.

"The first recorded collision between two objects in the solar system was with a comet named Shoemaker-Levy 9 and the planet Jupiter. And that happened 4 years ago. During our first year here."

"OK. That's too scary for a start," Leah laughed nervously.

He laughed, too.

The librarian looked at them and hushed them. Silence followed.

"I know I'm not a nerd, but you think I'm a geek?" he asked in a low voice.

"No, you're not," she said while shaking her head. "Not at all."

"You're being nice?"

"I'm being honest."

Another silence.

After a while, Leah spoke. "Look, this Friday's my birthday, and I'm inviting you to come."

He looked at her, waiting.

"I know this is kind of unusual, but yeah, I'd like you to come."

"We're not that ---"

"I know. I'm just hoping you'd still come," she sounded nervous with her seemingly controlled yet heavy breathing. "You can bring Donald along, if you want."

He thought about it for a while, and then shrugged as he pouted his lips. "Okay."

"Really?"

He nodded.

"Friday then?"

"Sure."

After staying there for a couple of minutes, Leah stood up, collected her things, and said goodbye to him.

When she walked past the librarian and into the door, Donald came in with his duffle bag hanging from his right shoulder. Leah smiled and walked past him. Donald went straight to him with a curious, questioning look.

"What's going on?" he asked with a frowning, smiling face.

"Nothing."

"You're lying," he grabbed the chair previously used by Leah, put his bag on the table, and then sat. "No secrets, man. No secrets. C'mon, what did I miss?" he asked as he bent his body forward and leaned with his arms folded on the table.

"She invited me to her birthday," he said, expressionless, as he continued reading.

"Ahahaha!" Donald exclaimed. "I knew it!"

The librarian heard the noise, glared straight at them, and warned, "Silence!"

Leandro glanced from the librarian to his friend and muffled his giggling.

In a hushed voice Donald continued talking. "I knew something's up with her. I just couldn't tell then. Now I know it. I think she likes you."

"Nah. She's just being friendly," he reasoned as he flipped a page.

"You're unbelievably insensitive!"

"I may be unbelievable, but not insensitive," he flatly said as he continued flipping some pages.

"Whatever."

Donald turned around to check the librarian, and then turned back again to look at him. He moved his head more closely toward Leandro. "Guess what."

"What?" he asked with less interest, his eyes still on the book.

"Try."

"Christine's pregnant?"

Donald grimaced. "What the --- get lost!"

"Tell me."

"I've already talked to Lola Dorya."

"Now, this is conversation," he said jokingly and shifted his attention to his friend. "You got the address?"

"Uh-huh," Donald answered almost like hurriedly. "Here's more, she said Rem's coming back."

Leandro was speechless for a while. "No bullshit."

"I'm serious," Donald pressed. "And guess when?"

"When?"

"In May. No specific date, but most probably before the fiesta," Donald grinned widely, and raised both his brows rhythmically.

Leandro went back to reading. And smiled.



That evening when Leandro went to bed, he turned the battery-operated AM/FM receiver on and lied there staring at Remma's picture. She was 12 years old in the photograph; young and innocent. Her smile was pure and contagious, which made him smile, too. After quite some time he went to sleep when the radio played the song of Richard Marx.

Donald was just staring blankly at the ceiling in his bedroom. It was already past midnight, but he still couldn't force himself to sleep. His mind was traveling far away into an unknown distance. Wandering. Searching. Discovering. Drifting away with thoughts and images and memories. He was dreaming wide awake.





The photograph used in this entry is from Chokkolat's Flickr page. Click here to go there.