I looked at myself in the mirror and studied my reflection. Damn it, I knew it was a bad decision for me to cut and dye my hair. And it was a bad decision for me to be out tonight.
Its Saturday and my best friend since high school, Jane, begged for me to go out of my messy bed this morning. Her boyfriend for six years, Zac, is throwing a party at 1995, a local hipster bar in Makati.
“Sige na,” Jane pleaded when she entered my room. “Zac’s band will be releasing their third single. It will be fun.”
I snorted. Fun. As I was trying to squeeze myself in this crummy and small washroom, I’m not really sure if I’m having fun right now. I continued combing my hair when two high-pitched girls in their short skirts and tight tops entered.
“Oh my Goooood, I can’t believe it! Bennett’s here!” the girl in neon pink skirt said. And then the other girl in neon green skirt wailed like a hyena.
Of course, I know Bennett. Bennett Lopez, the lead guitarist of Phantom Opera. The guy who wears his long hair and trims them every chilly month of December, the guy who only has one pair of worn out red Chucks, the guy who claims to love rock music but who is actually an avid fan of jazz. Of course I know him.
Bennett Lopez was my ex-boyfriend. We were together for a year.
I continued standing at the corner sink when the two high-pitched and a bit perkier girls were talking.
“Gosh, ang tagal din niyang hindi nag-drop by here ah,” said the girl in neon pink skirt. “Rumor has it he stopped going here for two months now when he and his girlfriend broke up.”
I couldn’t bear listening to their conversation. I pushed the door open and stepped out of the washroom.
“Tala! Over here!” I turned to my right and saw Jane standing near the bar. Despite the dim lights and puffy air of smoke, I can already see her forehead creasing along with her worried, kitty-eyed look. I casually approached her and pretended I didn’t find out that the guy is here.
“Heeeeey,” she quickly muttered when I stood beside her. She handed me a bottle of Cerveza Negra, my poison drink of the night. “Zac told me that he’s here. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
I cleared my throat. “What are you talking about?”
Just as when my best friend was about to open her mouth, Bennett’s band, Phantom Opera started playing the intro keys of “Stellar” by Incubus.
Meet me in outer space
We could spend the night, watch the earth come up
I’ve grown tired of that place, won’t you come with me
We could start again
How do you do it, make me feel like I do
How do you do it, its better than I ever knew
It’s like rubbing salt to my not-so-fresh-anymore wounds. He knew that song is in my top five favorite Incubus song.
I met Bennett last year when I was out with my college friends in a now-defunct grunge bar in Quezon City. It was Phantom Opera’s third gig, long before many knew them and they still haven’t released their artsy fartsy, hippie, and indie music video that time. I remember the night we met, he was already a bit of a snob and quiet. It was only when I bumped into him in Coffee Bean the week after that we got to talk and know each other more.
Thinking about it now, I have no idea how Bennett and I ended up as a couple. Sure, we have something in common when it comes to music. On our first date (which was when I bumped into him in Coffee Bean), he saw a photo of Arctic Monkeys clipped in my weekly planner and he began talking how he liked the rhythm of “Mardy Bum.” It was because of “Mardy Bum” that made me became interested of him. And later on I found out that it was the only Arctic Monkeys song that he knew.
Despite that, Bennett and I get along well when we were together. I let myself be absorbed in what he likes, listening to jazz music when we were making out in his bedroom. I laughed when I first heard of Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” in his playlist, then it became our song when we were in the mood for kissing and touching. Or sometimes we space out in his bed listening to Miles Davis and Joe Henderson. Later on I found myself uploading jazz music in my iPod. I also started drinking black coffee when I really like my coffee with lots of creamer and sugar. And little did I know, we barely eat in Burger King or McDonald’s because he prefers organic food. Somehow, Bennett changed the little things about me.
Then, two months ago, on a rainy Sunday morning, he dropped by at the apartment with two cups of black coffee and a newspaper. As soon as he sat down in the old sofa that I was planning to replace, he clasped his hands and said, “Let’s break up.”
I asked him why he wants to end the relationship. He did say a few explanations but all I can literally hear that time was a static noise. When Jane and our common friends ask why we break up, all I can do was shrug and blankly reply, “It just happened.”
The song was in the last chords and then the crowd applauded and howled in enthusiasm. In a span of a year, Phantom Opera became a hit to college kids, hipsters, and yuppies like me. When they released their music video, “River Run” six months ago, it was sold like pancakes and people demanded to finish their debut album. Every week, Bennett and his band would go to three or five gigs around the metro. And because I wanted to be a devoted girlfriend, I would tag along and sit at the bar and wait until their set was finished. I let myself stay awake until wee hours of the night and sleep for barely three hours because I have work the next day.
Bennett’s band wrapped up after playing. I avoided my gaze on the stage, hoping that he wouldn’t go near the bar and see me. So this is how it feels like in the movies, when they see their former lover in a social gathering and deliberately put themselves in an awkward situation. I’m pretty much sure I’ve been to a similar situation before, but not in an ex-boyfriend kind of encounter. I can’t even say at the moment that this will be the most awkward moment that I’ll have. Or maybe I have to find out myself if it is.
Until I saw Bennett walking towards me, his sight was blurry at first, not just because of the dim lights and puffy smoke. I can feel my heart beating faster and at the same it feels it was being squeezed tightly. Just as when I can clearly see his face, I noticed a girl standing behind him. She is much skinnier than I am (I weigh fifty-eight pounds and I feel that I weigh like a sumo-wrestler), she has a slender waist, and her shiny black hair was tied up. She was wearing a white shirt, black plants, and red heels.
“Hey,” Bennett casually said, his eyes were fixed on me. I couldn’t tell if he was feeling awkward just like me. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
I smirked. “I didn’t know I’d be here.” He knew I was being sarcastic. Oftentimes he’ll pinch my cheek and kiss me on the lips when I’m being sarcastic. This time, he cleared his throat and looked at the girl standing behind him.
“By the way, Tala,” Bennett said. “I’d like you to meet Andie,” he held the lower left arm of the girl Andie he introduced. Andie showed her pearly white teeth when she widely smiled. “My date,” he added.
You can fake this, I said to myself. Don’t let them see you. I glanced over Andie and gave her a brief smile to acknowledge her presence. “Hey.”
“Hello,” Andie said in a sweet voice. I wonder if this Andie girl and I have something in common.
Bennett cleared his throat again. “We won’t be staying long,” he told me. “We have another gig to go to in Quezon City.”
“Alright. I’ll see you around then,” was the only thing I said.
Right after Bennett and his girl turned around, I gulped my Cerveza Negra and wiped my mouth dry.