The Apartment We Share
The city loomed, a concrete beast breathing exhaust fumes and the clamor of a thousand hurried lives. It was nothing like the quiet province I’d left behind, where the morning air smelled of dew and distant woodsmoke, not bus exhaust and the hurried shouts of strangers.
My arms ached, not just from the heavy travel bag slung over my shoulder, but from the weight of everything I’d carried here: promises, dreams, and the bittersweet tang of goodbyes.
“Magandang tanghali po,” I greeted the landlady, a kind-faced woman introduced to me as Manang Susan.
She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ikaw na ba si Belinda? Nasabi na sa akin ni Neneng na dito ka titira. Kaso, may kasama ka sa iisang unit. Nasabi niya ba sa ‘yo?”
My heart gave a nervous flutter. “Babae po ba?” I asked, a hopeful whisper.
Manang Susan just chuckled, a sound that did little to reassure me. If it wasn’t a girl, I hoped it was a bear. Bears, at least, were predictable.
We stopped before a door, a faint, muffled beat thumping from within. Manang Susan knocked, then yelled, “Hoy, Zach, buksan mo ‘tong pinto. Nandito na ang roommate mo!”
The door creaked open, revealing a man. No shirt, hair disheveled, a beer bottle in hand. My breath caught in my throat. His eyes, just as shocked as mine, widened in recognition. It was him.
The door slammed shut. Manang Susan swore. “Leche. Zack, buksan mo!”
“Sandali lang, ho, Manang Susan! Magbibihis lang po ako!” His voice, muffled but unmistakable, echoed from inside, followed by a crash. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But most of all, I wanted to hit him.
