Rendezvous
22 February 04 : 02.01 AM
I cannot hold my liquor. I felt nauseous and hot at the side of my neck after two drinks of bacardi.
Aaron brought me out of the club to vomit, he was almost drunk from drinking 2 mugs of beer. I kept tripping as I walk, although I certainly felt sober.
I leaned on the staircase and he sat beside me. He started laughing, and I nudged him.
"Do you know I don't drink?" he asked.
I didn't answer.
"Anne was kissing a guy right in front of me just now. Just now..." Anne is his girlfriend.
"Aren't you with her?" I asked, thinking about how intimate they were just now.
"She kissed him right in front of me!"
"Leave her."
"Why don't anyone love me?"
"Sylvia loved you." I told him. He shook his head in disbelief.
"Do you love Anne?" I asked, and there was a long pause before he looked me in the eye and said he didn't know.
"I want revenge..." He dragged. I tried to look in his eyes, and I think he knew, so he turned away. I suspect they were red and teary.
"You don't take revenge on someone you love!" I said. "Leave her, others will love you."
"Who loves me?" He asked, "Tell me who loves me? Nobody does."
"There are girls who will love you. You're just not looking in the right place." This is the real Aaron, I thought. The Aaron who feels unloved, no semblance, a melted shield of protection, young boy Aaron, not playboy Aaron.
"Do you love me?" He asked. There were tears in his eyes.
How do you convince a depressed boy whose girlfriend has just cheated on him, that people loves him and then tell him you don't?
"Then do you love me?" I asked back.
"I loved you."
He was on the verge of vomiting.
"I'm useless. I can't even drink."
I caressed his back and kept telling him that he's perfectly fine, that he's not useless, that he deserves better, but he didn't seem to be listening.
"Can I kiss you?" He asked, turning his face towards me.
"For revenge?" I raised my brow.
"For the past."
I was appalled. More appalled than I would have been in the past. Maybe there was a time when I could have fallen in love with those words, but not anymore.
"You love Anne." I told him.
"Just a kiss on the lips?"
"You love Anne," I repeated.
He broke down and cried, and asked me to leave him alone for a while. As I walked away, my eyes watered. Not for him, not for anyone, but myself.