Serendipity of the Car Wash Kind

It’s another desolate Paco-free Sunday. I woke up at 6am to missed calls and text messages from the couple I was supposed to meet Saturday night. Oof! I fell asleep!!! Ugh. SORRY Nyel and Val. This old lady who feels lethargic after 8pm will make it up to you…promise.

After kicking myself for being such a flaker –an unintentional one – but a flaker nonetheless, I did my morning lime and coconut ritual and got ready for church. I went with my Mama Lyn (my beloved yaya) and P’s yaya and was deeply blessed by the pastor’s sermon --‘The Joy in Freedom.’ One of the analogies he used was marriage and narrated how a woman can feel trapped in a bad marriage. Sigh. That’s exactly how I felt back then – TRAPPED. I don’t want to go into the details as this might not be smart for my annulment but I realized that the reason why my view of marriage is so negative is because mine was a stifling cage. It’s sad, but it’s true. P’s dad wasn’t a wife beater or a cheat. No. He was not. He's a decent man but our relationship was one you could easily call unhealthy. I know I’m going to get into a lot of trouble for saying that but it’s true. I’m a bit scared now but Dr. Johnson's words ring loudly in my ear... "What would you do if you weren't afraid?" 

It’s over, although not entirely, but the freedom I am experiencing now is enough to let my heart and spirit breathe. I am alive again and for that, I am truly grateful. Freedom is underrated and madly overlooked...until you lose it. My wish for my friends who are about to get married and to you, dear reader, whatever your situation may be, may you live in freedom and love. And may you seriously ponder over the idea of spending forever with your special someone -- a gazillion times over -- before you tie the knot. It really is no joke and that is NOT just a line people use to scare you. It’s freakin’ real. Trust me.

So anyhow, I made myself a quick lunch of brown rice and vegetables after church. I have been eating healthy the past week and my tummy is a lot trimmer now. YAY!!! Since it was still a bit early for my 3pm yoga practice, I decided it was time to give Puto (yes, I named my car) a much-needed wash. There was a queue at the nearby carwash but one of the attendants ushered me into their air conditioned waiting lounge. Nice! There were 2 other guys in the lounge, one was having a meal (the lounge served bagnet and vigan longganisa – YUM) and the other, older gentleman was busy texting on his phone. I chose the table nearest the window and away from the two men. I brought my laptop out, ready to start blogging when I heard someone speak – and it sounded like he was talking to me. I thought it weird but I looked up nonetheless.

“Are you a student?”

It was the elderly gentleman asking me.

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“Are you a student?” he asked me again smiling.

“Oh no, sir. I’m not” I answered also with a smile.

“You look very young. You look 16,” he replied still smiling.

He was wearing shorts, a tshirt and a sling bag. He had thinning white hair and a friendly smile. He was, I later found out, 61 years old, has 4 grown kids and had just  lost his dear wife to cancer 5 months ago.

“I’m 35 years old and I have a 4-year old, sir.” I said correcting him nicely. I realized I did look 16 in my denim shorts, comfy 9-year old Team Manila tshirt, flip flops and ponytail.

“No! You’re lying!” He looked genuinely shocked. I was taken aback too. No one has ever called me a liar before. People would look shocked or make this puzzled face when I would correct them about my age but no one has ever blatantly said I was lying.  

“No…you’re not a liar but your face is. You look so young. Just like my 30 year old daughter. She also looks 16.” He quickly explained.

There was a pause and I smiled at him trying to assure him I wasn’t hurt by the lying comment.

“She’s getting married in January.” He added rather proudly.

That’s how our car wash conversation started.

Mr. R is a semi-retired educator from a prestigious university in the country. He told me the names of the senators and governors he taught. Even the president was in his high school class. He beamingly told me about his children, all grown up and making names for themselves. He showed me pictures of his beautiful family. He was such a sweet man. He told me about his dear wife too and how cancer took her life and how devastated he is now and how he misses her everyday.  He grabbed his phone and showed me a prayer he made for her while waiting for his car to get cleaned. He said he was typing it just before he started to converse with me (I thought he was texting!) It was a beautiful prayer.

“I talk to her everyday. I talk to her in my prayers. You know, Velvet, it’s very difficult. My eldest son sleeps in the room with me because I don’t want to be alone. It’s very difficult… but I’m coping.” He said struggling to smile.

I felt his pain. It was raw and real and strong -- too strong that even I can feel it – piercing gut-wrenching pain. I can feel my eyes starting to sting but I fight back the tears. I will not cry in a carwash.

This was the same grief, same pain, same struggle my dad went through nine years ago when my mom passed. I wanted to hug Mr. R and tell him things will get better in time and that his heart will heal. But we’re not a hugging culture so I just grabbed his hand and told him I understood his pain. I told him about my dad and how he was when my mom died and now, nine years later, he has a girlfriend and is extremely in love and happy. He said he’ll move on someday. I know in my heart that he will but it will be a long arduous journey.

He told me about his house and all the empty rooms he’s trying to renovate. Empty nest. That must suck. Empty nest experienced by a lone parent -- major joy-zapper. Paco must never marry. Sigh. I am kidding of course. Half-meant. 

We exchanged numbers and promised to meet for coffee one of these days. I quickly paid the bill and rushed to Makati to go to yoga practice as I was already running late. 

As I drove along EDSA – thank God traffic was particularly light – I play back Mr R’s words. He was a broken man struggling to keep it together. I say a short prayer for him and his children.

Two hours later, as I shower after yoga practice my thoughts run back to Mr. R. This was a man who loved true and deeply. I think back on all the relationships I had. As the tepid water washes the soap suds away from my body, it hits me. No, I haven’t loved as much and as deeply as he had. Not one of the eight relationships I had in the past, not once did I truly love the way Mr. R loved his wife. That’s just sad and unfair. Yes, I was unfair – unfair to all 8 of my exes including the one I married. Sigh. True love shouldn't end. True love doesn't end.

But how will you know if love is real?

Will you ever know?

I adjust the water temperature. I need to wake myself up from this revelry. As the cold water hits my spine, I instantly snap out of my emo-filled musings. I quickly dress and call my friend Hannah for a last-minute food recharge. We agree to meet up for an early dinner. I grab a banana from a nearby 711 and I wait for Hannah to text me. As a bide my time watching the empty streets of Paseo de Roxas, the day’s learnings disturb my furiously active brain. The love Mr. R had for his wife… that’s the kind of love marriage should be built on. If only people who married loved as he did, then maybe married people can live in peace and happiness. They wouldn’t feel trapped. In fact the loss of the partner would be devastating and not liberating. Oops, that didn’t sound right. I’m not saying that all married people live in tyranny and grief – maybe a handful don’t – yes, a handful…okay… it can be a pretty big hand. But anyhow, Mr R’s love – I’ll call it the 'car wash love' (okay it's corny but I'm claiming a trump card of literary sarcastic indulgence) – is the kind that happy blissful marriages have. The kind that transcends life and death. 

I wonder how Mr. R met the wife? 

What was their married life like? 

How long did they date before they tied the knot?

I check my phone and was pleasantly surprised to see that Mr. R has sent me a message.

“Hi, Velvet. Glad to have met somebody nice today. I know you are quite busy because of the nature of your work. Just the same, to reiterate what I told you earlier, when you have free time let’s get together for a cup of coffee. Bring your daughter along.”

I should’ve showed him P’s photo. He’ll get to meet my SON soon anyway. I check my calendar -- full except for Thursday. Cool! I’m going to find out more about the secret to ‘car wash love’ in 4 days. I can't wait.