The past week was loaded with training not in Kallang, but at International Plaza:
- Adobe Premiere Pro 250 – A Course for Experienced Editors
- New Top Secret (LOL) Interface our department will be using to upload promos
The third summer Friday was toned down. I was a bit exhausted. I hit the gym in the afternoon and then went to Bishan to collect some of my remaining clothes at my old flat. I also packed up my shoe rack.
And, I cried.
I couldn’t keep it in. I was hugging my favourite stuffed toy which I decided to leave with N. To sort of… “accompany” him so he isn’t lonely without me there.
I started crying when I remembered how beautiful this master bedroom was at one point. I had Star Wars Clone Wars blasting on Netflix, playing on my TV. My two lamps were keeping the room looking warm and welcoming. Our laundry was filled to the brim… his clothes and mine.
I remember the excitement I felt when I would hear the gate close outside. This would signal that he was arriving from work. I would try to switch off the lights and disappear under my quilt… so that when he entered the room he would think that I was already asleep. WHICH NEVER HAPPENS. He would enter the room, all dark… and then pause for a moment… and then say something like “Ang arte mo” (you’re acting1) or “Hindi ka pa tulog” (You’re not sleeping!)… then he would switch on the ugly fluorescent light and reveal me under the quilt… I would be smiling or HIDING MY SMILE.
Or when he would cook pork adobo or sinigang or that pork giniling… and we would eat it together on the bed… on top of this IKEA thingy intended for laptops.
Or the countless stupid things we would giggle about… together.
So yes, I cried. And I couldn’t stop crying. Because I had made the decision to move out three weeks ago. And I was crying because quite frankly… he didn’t even bother to stop me from leaving.
N arrived later that evening and we spoke for quite a bit. It was the first time we saw each other in two weeks. He noticed I had been crying.
My Uber arrived. I took my shoe rack and a bag full of clothes, and shut the gate in the softest way possible.
That’s my third summer Friday.