It was a Monday kind of love. The kind of love that involves star-crossed lovers whose relationship struggle over the busy streets, tall buildings and sea of people. It was not some superficial force that separated them – it was reality, this transient world where everybody wakes up, drags their feet to work and ends up their day around 6 o’clock forgetting about the flaming color of the sky. It’s about trying your best to ride the subway in the midst of rush hour hoping to find your other half at the end of the station. It was the kind of love that surmounts the smoke, long lines at fast food stores, paperworks, and your swollen feet because at the end of the day, something will happen – something iridescent, washing away the tiredness and the heavy air that surrounds you. It was a typical manic Monday – strait-laced and suffocating but buried with hope that this kind of routine will change.
I’ve been in the town of the busy bees for almost 10 hours. It was the longest Monday of my life. In my watch, it’s 5 o’clock in the afternoon and I’m trying to write down what happened today: The morning rain poured and the radio was all about traffic news. 9 o’clock and I patiently waited for my turn, trying to pick up small conversations with nameless people I’ve met inside an office. The first interview went well, my head throbbed for every question but I tried to hide it with a smile. I took an IQ test that could let you grow a brain tumor. Then, I had my lunch inside a convenience store, a hotdog in a bun in my right hand while Arlene Chai’s book on my left. I tried to kill time with reading and daydreaming hoping that this day would have its twists and turns.
Text messages from you can save me once in awhile, helping me throw out that lump on my throat. I was feeling soggy and could fall asleep any time. The day tried to tire me out and it’s succeeding one minute at a time, but then you said we should meet after your work. By 4 o’clock, I was down to my last interview. I tried to recover as much as I could, after all resiliency was my word of the day.
Sunset was just around the corner and then you came. It was the pivotal event of my day and I knew, it was a monday kind of love. The kind of love when awkwardness subsides like a first date. The mixed signals of smiles, gestures of heaviness and excitement. It was like planning to meet was simply a joke that came true. It was about our indecisiveness when it comes to a place to eat and what pizza to order. It was simply talking about today, last year and five years from now. It was the kind of love that suits as well just by walking, sharing witty remarks and pick up lines. It was about your blue polo and my wrinkled skirt. We had two hours; thirty minutes spent inside the bus standing. A fishbowl of memories came rushing in – the way we spent our college days with friends, those nights we ended up stranded because of the flood and all we could say is that we miss it.
It was the kind of love knowing that he’ll be going off at the next station and we think about tomorrow again. The bus stops and people hastily finds the exit door. He gives me an unexpected kiss in the forehead and all I could say was “take care”. I waved at him from the window until I completely lose sight of him. And that was it, the kind of star-crossed lovers that we were and how it would take time to meet again.
And yes, it was my Monday kind of love.