Why do I keep seeing Anthony? Was he just a product of my imagination? Was he born from my deep longing for someone to protect and accompany me? Had I become so desperate that I started seeing Anthony out of nowhere?
“Anthony,” I called to him when I saw him standing on the balcony.
He moved. He stepped closer to the sliding glass door and parted the curtain. He walked in, his gaze roaming the room.
When our eyes met, he smiled. “Did you call for me?” he asked.
He walked closer to the bed and stood just a meter away. I gestured for him to sit on the side of the bed, and he did so willingly.
I stared at his face. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling at that moment. He was looking at me, yet his eyes were dull, lifeless. It felt like I was staring into a void that no one had ever entered.
I took a deep breath and looked at Anthony seriously. I raised my hand to reach for him, but he moved away. He even stood up and sat at the edge of the bed, a few meters away from me.
I sighed. I leaned back on the headboard and continued to stare at him. I then cleared my throat. “Are you Anthony?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes, I am.”
I stared deeply at him, analyzing his words. There was no emotion in his voice. My forehead creased. “Why are you here?”
His lips twitched into a small smile, yet his eyes remained lifeless. “I should accompany you.”
“Why?” I asked, my breath shallow. I eyed him curiously.
“To make you happy.”
My gaze lowered. “I didn’t call you over.”
“If you didn’t, why am I here?” he asked.
I looked back into his eyes. There was no change in them. They were still lifeless. My mind wandered back to my school days when Anthony was still alive and would accompany me like a boyfriend in the canteen.
“Azora,” he called, sitting on the chair across from me. The table separated us, but it didn’t stop Anthony from reaching for my hand. “I’m late.”
My nose crinkled at his words, and I pulled my hand back. “You’re a leader. Of course, you’re busy.”
He stared at me for a long time, then I saw in my peripheral vision how he smiled. “I’ll treat you tomorrow.”
His words weren’t a question. They were a statement, indirectly telling me I couldn’t refuse. My eyes rolled. “As if I have a choice. By the way, why are you here?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“You know…” I reached for my soda and took a sip through the straw. “I didn’t call you over.”
“If you didn’t, why am I here?” he asked, lips twitching to suppress a playful smile.
I stuck my tongue out at him. I had called Anthony that day to celebrate my test results. I got nearly perfect scores, which would make Dad glad, and I celebrated my victory with Anthony first.
Looking at Anthony, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at me with dull eyes, I realized that even though this man looked exactly like Anthony, he wasn’t the Anthony I used to know.
“Do you love me, Anthony?” I asked, cautious with every move.
He said, “I love you.” But there was no emotion in his words, just a repetition of the words I used to hear from him in the past few days.
“Really?” I asked, my voice sad and shaking. I was out of breath, panting softly under his dull gaze.
I hadn’t noticed his dull gaze before. It was only that day that I had a good look at his eyes. As days went by, those orbs continued to lose their spark, even though they had already been dull.
“Really,” he said to affirm his words.
“Then… come close and kiss me,” I challenged him.
He was still for a few seconds before he slowly stood up and walked closer to me, who was leaning on the headboard, centimeters away from the side of the bed.
Anthony sat right in front of me. Oddly, I started to sweat. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead.
Then I moved. I moved away from him. He watched my every movement but didn’t move from where he was sitting.
But I was surprised when he suddenly spoke, “It was you who challenged me. Why are you moving away?”
A chill ran down my spine. I stared at him in disbelief. Then, a memory resurfaced in my mind.
It was a rainy day, and I stood under the waiting shed. Classes had just ended, and I hadn’t brought an umbrella. I ran through the rain and felt relieved to stop under the roof of the waiting shed just outside the University’s gate.
I was drenched from the rain. My hair was dripping wet, my clothes clung to my body, and water had soaked into my shoes. I was panting hard because I had sprinted from the Administration building to the waiting shed.
It had been three months since I asked Dad not to hire someone to fetch me at the University. During those months, I was fine commuting from Cebu City to Naga. But it was the first time I had to deal with being soaked by pouring rain. In previous months, it had been sunny. If it rained, it didn’t last until the afternoon. That day was different.
I was staring at the other side of the street, where a pool of rainwater had accumulated on the cemented pathway when someone cleared their throat.
I looked up at the boy standing beside me. He had an umbrella, and his jacket was obviously dry. I could see the stark contrast between me, shivering from the cold, and him, standing leisurely with both hands in his pockets and whistling a happy tune.
My eyes narrowed at him. “Excuse me?” I asked.
It took him a few seconds to lower his gaze to me. He smiled. “You’re wet,” he said.
“Obviously,” I muttered under my breath and looked back across the street.
Some students stood not far from me, and a few had taken shelter in the waiting shed. But most of the students were heading their own ways, carrying umbrellas.
My face fell. I regretted not bringing my umbrella. If I had, I could walk through the rain without getting soaked.
Minutes passed, but the rain didn’t stop. I started to worry. I looked at my wristwatch; it was past four in the afternoon. I sighed. If the rain didn’t stop by five, I’d have to call Dad to pick me up. So I waited for the rain to stop.
I noticed that the students who had taken shelter with me had left. Some opened their umbrellas and walked away, while others braved the rain and ran outside, getting soaked instantly. I grimaced at the sight.
I had just run through the rain, and I realized it wasn’t a good idea. I could run out and get soaked again, but I couldn’t stand being dripping wet. The cold wind was harsh, and I might freeze before I even got to a bus.
Besides, I needed to endure a little and wait for my clothes to dry somewhat. Sitting on a bus seat while dripping wet would only make me uncomfortable during the long drive.
Just when I was about to get lost in my thoughts, something warm enveloped my shoulders and back. I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up at the boy, now staring at my face.
When our eyes met, he smiled cheekily. “I’ll lend you my jacket. You must be cold. You’re shaking.”
I ignored him and looked around. The rain was still pouring, and I thought it wouldn’t stop anytime soon. Only two students, besides me and the boy, were left under the waiting shed. Like me, they were probably waiting for the rain to stop.
“No thank you?” I heard the boy say, but I could sense the playfulness in his voice.
I took a deep breath, stole a glance at him, then looked back at the pool of water ahead. “Thanks,” I mumbled under my breath.
But maybe because of the heavy rain, he didn’t hear me. He said, “Grumpy.”
My nose crinkled at his accusation. “Thank you,” I said more audibly.
I saw him smile in my peripheral vision. “You’re welcome,” he said.
My shoulders shrugged, and I continued to watch the raindrops fall. I looked at my wristwatch and sighed when I realized that twenty minutes had passed.
Time seemed to move slowly that afternoon. If not for the jacket giving me warmth, I might have fled to the bus station despite the heavy rain. Deep down, I was grateful for that guy.
I was startled when he extended his hand toward me. “Anthony. Anthony Clasiso,” he said.
I was skeptical about shaking hands with a guy I had just met minutes ago. Although I had crushes and admirers in high school, I never had a decent conversation with the opposite gender, except for school activities and projects. But as I stared at his big hand, I gulped away my uneasiness and shook his hand.
“Azora Sirai Briones,” I said in a low voice, enough for him to hear.
Anthony’s smile grew wider. “Nice to meet you.”
I nodded in response and withdrew my hand. I looked back at the raindrops falling on the street. We stood in silence for a while until Anthony asked about my course and year.
I told him I was a first-year college student, studying computer engineering. He said that was good, then went silent again.
I thought he wanted to keep the conversation going, so I asked him about his course and year. But he smiled, nodded, and said some quotes that barely connected with my question. I never learned his course and year level that rainy afternoon.
After a while, Anthony asked if I was waiting for someone. I shook my head. “I told my Dad not to send a driver. I’ll commute home later.”
He was silent for a few seconds, then asked, “Would you like me to take you home?”
I turned to him and stared into his eyes. There was no playfulness in them, just genuine emotion, so I assumed he wasn’t joking.
I smiled faintly at him. “How about you come and show yourself to my strict Dad?”
I wasn’t really challenging him. In fact, I was joking. But I gasped when he stepped closer to me. I stepped back and eyed him defensively.
His brow raised. “It was you who challenged me. Why are you moving away?”
I stood there, lips parted in surprise and confusion. At that moment, I realized he wasn’t the type to joke around; he took words seriously.
Staring into his dull eyes in that room, I knew Anthony was just repeating the same lines he used when he was alive. I then realized that the conversations we had in recent weeks were remnants of his past words.
He was just mimicking his own words.