Meteora

First appeared in the Philippines Graphic magazine, 8 November 2019.

The year was 1990. A year full of hang-ups thanks to the lunacy of the decade that was. The Cold War had just ended, but kids still dreamt of reaching for the stars, either as astronauts or as artistas. A revolution of sampaguita garlands and yellow confetti covered Highway 54 a few years back, but society was still adjusting to the toils of the freedom they didn’t know what to do with.

I was one of those kids who dreamt of becoming an astronaut. And much to my aunt’s chagrin, I wanted to be like Valentina Tereshkova, and not any of the white men who lived by either Anglo-Saxon or Jewish names and claimed to be sons of Uncle Sam. That’s as neo-colonial as she can get, but I was too young to understand those things back then.

I remember these things maybe because they all happened in the best year of my existence. And perhaps because I was sitting next to him. These fleeting moments I consider to be the second-best, after of course, that extraordinary yet very mediocre year.

Nineteen-ninety. It now seems light years away from where we were, hanging out like overgrown teenagers on a suspiciously serene midsummer night.

He wanted to be an astronaut too.

He said he wanted to be the next Yuri Gagarin. His dad was a big fan of all things Russia, from the architecture of St. Basil’s to vodka, ballet and gymnastics, and of course, chess. His dad taught him how to play the game, but he never won against the old man.

His dad was a seaman, and he stepped foot on Moscow and St. Petersburg maybe twice. For a time, he thought about settling in the Siberian country for good, but his family couldn’t take the cold.

And he couldn’t take the commie ideology. A fanatic he may have been, but he was just too vain to make that kind of change.

He said he didn’t want to play chess. He was more interested in ball games. So he ended up shooting hoops with drunkards in between classes, during inter-barangay summer leagues, and of course, college P.E.

Whatever happened to our dreams of frolicking in space, I sighed.

Physics destroyed everything, he giggled.

Chemistry shattered mine, I said.

How come?

I met a guy and fell for him, I chuckled. Gave everything and chemistry did its thing. We kissed and stripped naked one hot afternoon and gave in to each other’s carnal woes. And we did it again. And again. And again.

Until my belly grew with a baby inside, waiting to come out by Christmastime.

So much for chemistry.

But I looked so young, he said, puzzled. He was looking for a hint that would give away my stint at motherhood.

I said there wasn’t any. I became one, for a few hours. She died in infancy. She could’ve been a pesky teen by now, I don’t know.

And so life continued, but too late it was for me to get back to my astronomical whims.

Life hasn’t been that nice to him either, he said. His dad swore by the vodka to get away from the fact that the love of his life had already died. So he wandered off and looked for his purpose.

But do you have any when you’re broke, tired, and hungry?

He bragged about being a master of the streets. One day he left home and never returned, and just heard recently that his old man had finally retired. From life itself. Fine, he sighed. He prefers the word ‘expired’.

Yet, amid his frustrations he tried to find his place on this earth, until he woke up one day and found himself with a wife and kid.

He’s in grade school now, he said. His wife makes delicious omelettes. But that’s as far as she could go.

So why are you here with me and not with them?

They’re in the shelter, sleeping. I laced their dinner with crushed sleeping pills, he confessed. I didn’t want them to see the sky turn from black to red, like what’s happening now.

Why are you here? He looked at me.

Why am I here. I wanted to smoke a joint. I wanted to get high while waiting for this abomination to arrive. Alone, but in my favorite spot I found you.

Roll me one.

And so I did. I rolled a thick joint on a piece of old parchment, and lit it up to take a puff. We took turns, until the smoke got into our nerves and the world seemed a little too light.

It said on the news that an asteroid has entered the earth’s atmosphere. NASA predicted that it would hit some part of the planet, with coordinates pointing to where we were.

That it’s only a matter of time before a percentage of mankind is eradicated.

Some folks started flying out of the country. The rich ones. Those who could buy tickets. Those who had connections and families elsewhere and those who were selfish enough not to even think of the slightest idea of becoming heroes to look after those whose fates have already been sealed.

I was among the unfortunate ones. He was too. We, who are now products of poor choices, limited options, and quickly waving the white flag at numbers and science whose career paths could have led us to living better lives.

Talk about selective annihilation.

Hahaha. We laughed and laughed much harder and we couldn’t stop. We laughed at the idea that we have become a form of entertainment to those on the other side, as they watched for the arrival of this heaven-sent asteroid and wiped us off the surface of the planet.

Even until we saw it coming, at a rather slow pace, past the crimson night sky, heading towards us.

From a distance, it looked like a humongous piece of rock that’s tattered with all sorts of imperfections. Full of holes and craters, like an acne-infested face full of blackheads and wide-open pores. Only this one’s bigger. And hotter.

This is the perfect spot, he said, as he held my hand.

For what? I smiled cheekily, trying to play coy. I snuggled into him, guessing what he will do next.

Will we kiss?

Will he lay me down?

Will he go on top of me and make me scream of lust, desire, or regret?

He smiled. Then he looked back to the sky.

To reminisce on our childhood dream, silly!

Oh.

On the grass we laid ourselves, me resting my head on his right arm. Look, he said. Had we pursued becoming astronauts then we would have been busy right now, finding ways to stop that monstrosity from hitting our planet.

But this is the closest we can get, I chuckled.

He chuckled.

NASA said the asteroid would swipe on a few countries, at the very least.

And as our world stood still in this eerie night and the remaining humans left behind in this ill-fated land sought refuge in tunnels and shelters in the hopes to be spared, here we were, gazing at the heavens, seeing this ugly celestial boulder coming straight towards us, ready to devour us any minute.

Wanna listen to some music? He placed one-half of his headphones to my left ear then put his mp3 player on full blast. It was Linkin Park playing. Their second studio album, released when I was a Polly-sigh sophomore. I hated it back then, and I hated it now.

You should be with your wife and kid. I mumbled while torn between staring at the bleak sky and digesting Chester Bennington’s growls.

You know that Math tells us the saddest love stories? He smiled, his yellow stained teeth showing signs of a chronic smoking habit. One of them is about us.

What do you mean?

We’re like tangent lines. Only meant to meet once, and never again.

Just like this asteroid –it’s gonna hit the earth. Only once.

The air suddenly became warmer, and heavier. There grew a haze of some sort. The leaves rustled with every blow, and the night lit up brighter than the highest of noontimes.

I closed my eyes and embraced him tight.

I’ve become so numb, screamed Bennington. Those were the last words I heard.

I tried to go back to 1990, when all was well and I had dreams. Maybe I’ll find him there.