You Will Get There Someday

It was a hot afternoon when I first met my friend. I was saying goodbye to my classmates when I saw her. She was on the bench near the school gate, enjoying the cool shade of the mango tree.

She was in her mid-20s with hair put in a low neat bun. Her perfect makeup, black kitten heels, and green/gray uniform ensemble reminded me of the office workers I see in Manila. She had a professional aura I usually admire in adults. It was like they had their careers figured out until the end. But there was something more to her that was a challenge to place. Even though she swung her legs as a child does, she also took deep breaths. It was as if she was trying to make sense of life.

Her head lifted and she caught me. Her face broke into a sunny smile when our eyes met. She started to walk toward me with a little plastic bag in hand.

“School’s done? I brought something for you.”

She opened her bag. There were popsicles in green packages with letters I couldn’t recognize. I tried reading the translation beneath the unfamiliar words.

“Me-lo-na,” I read out loud.

“C’mon, let’s eat before they melt.”

I was stunned but I did what she said. I didn't know her but she treated me like she knew me forever.

She led me to the spot where I first saw her. I know I shouldn’t talk to strangers, much less accept food from them. But she got me curious, hypnotized even. Was she part of the gang that gets a child’s organs? Would she kidnap me for a ransom even though we don’t have much to begin with? But she didn’t look the part and we were still within the school guard’s earshot. I would shout if the situation got worse.

“Hey,” she said, holding out the popsicle for me.

I took the ice cream and had a bite. I experienced paradise if that was possible with food. Sweet. Cool. Smooth. Melon-y. I couldn’t even form the proper sentence. I didn’t realize this was what I was looking for until I found it.

“You like it?”

I nodded and continued eating.

That was the start of our daily meetings. We saw each other every day. Same time. Same place. She brought me Melona ice cream, my new favorite.

I never encountered that variant anywhere else. I asked Nanay if she could buy me some. Her eyebrows raised, “Anak, there is no such kind.” I asked Ate, Mrs. Cruz, and some of my classmates in school. All were puzzled. No one knew what I was talking about. I had to wait for my friend for my regular dose of Melona.

“Where do you buy this,” I asked her one day.

“In the grocery store,”

“But Nanay said it wasn’t there.”

“Ours always has it.”

“Where is that grocery store so I can ask Nanay to buy me some?”

“That is far. I can buy you more if you want. I can also bring you the other flavors.”

“What if you don’t come back? I need a backup plan just in case.”

Her face broke into that amused smile - lips lifted to one side and her eyes danced with a humor that the two of us could understand. She reassured me she would be here the next day.

“Where did you come from? So I can visit you sometime, “ I brought up a hundredth time.

“That is far.”

“Just like the grocery store.”

“You’re probably asking because you want to go to the supermarket, not my house.”

“No, it’s not only that. We’d been seeing each other for many months now but I haven’t had a glimpse of where you came from. How can I get there? Airplane? Boat? Train?”

“For now, you couldn’t. But you will get there someday.”

She confused me. Her words were a mystery that my young mind couldn’t comprehend. But I knew better than to ask more questions. She answered in muddles anyway. My ice cream was melting and I focused on finishing that.

Melona was my favorite but she also brought other food I didn't know. She let me have milk tea with cream white swirls on the side of the plastic cup. Or we would feast on pretzels with hotdogs knotted between bread. At times we had waffles with molded grids - pancakes with muscle as we dubbed it.

I tried to compensate with the food she brought. When my allowance permitted, I would bring her her favorite Zagu creme brulee.

“You know what, they stop making this from where I came from. Thank you for making me have it here,” she told me one day, my curiosity piqued again but I remained silent.

Aside from the food trip, she told me stories. Sometimes, they were a little too queer for me. Once, she mentioned how a virus made everyone in the world stay home and wear a mask whenever they go out. Or how they were stuck staring on their screens for hours each day. I loved being home and playing pinball for a whole day. Why did she make that sound like a problem?

Hot summer afternoons turned into rainy days. Road puddles got bigger and the rain poured in endless streaks. My friend didn’t show up.

The wind whistled, emphasizing the silence in my life. I missed her. I missed my Melona. I wanted to go where she was but I didn’t know where she was. Her words echoed into my ear.

“You will get there someday.”