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SOLEIL (PART 1) |
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She was a paradox, a mystery. Not really silent, and yet it was as if she was not really there. Like a ghost that lingers.
Soleil...
I was still in UST when I first saw her, sitting placidly underneath one of the big trees that dotted the campus. A paperback copy of Great Poems by Louis Untermeyer lay open on her lap, long tapered fingers idly playing with a thin gold necklace.
I did not know why I came up to her, she was a stranger to me. Perhaps because I owned the same book or maybe because of the way her eyes would travel distantly as she paused from time to time. As if the words were being savored with an unspoken passion.
"Hi!"
She looked up, startled at my presence, her eyes so dark that you could lose yourself in them.
"Hi!" I say again, softer this time, feeling sheepish and suddenly at a loss for words. "Uh, sorry to disturb you but, you see-I mean-I have the same book and I didn't expect to see a copy, uh, you know..."
Sudden laughter met my blundering efforts. The heat rapidly crept up to the roots of my hair and I wanted to die.
"I understood perfectly." She said with a grin just as I wanted to run away. Those charming lips pulled at me and it was with difficulty when I turned my attention to her next words. "Not a lot of guys feel comfortable with poetry. I'm glad that you like them. Who's your favorite author?"
I did not have one. The book was a gift, my mother's mistaken initiative to help me learn about the finer things in life. Fortunately, I just came from my Literature class. "Lord Byron." I answered smoothly.
Her smile grew even wider and she invited me to sit beside her. Confident now of her acceptance, we began to talk like two old friends. She told me that her name is Soleil (pronounced So-leyl). An unusually fancy name which meant 'sun". It came from French or Italian, I think. Wherever. It did not matter. What mattered was that was how we started to become the best of friends. In the end it was more than friends.
It has been what? Seven? Ten years now? I do not really remember. I suppose like that book of poems that lay underneath all the other books I possess, Soleil is a memory buried beneath my consciousness. Never entirely hidden. I remember her now sharply, while the radio played a song by Barbra Streisand, that remarkably lovely voice singing: '...the years will kindly show, how mem'ries come and go. They ever flow like the tide...'
"Really, Nick." She was saying exasperatedly. "Nobody's like Barbra."
I grunted, not really fond of the songstress. My own tastes ran along the lines of Rolling Stones. Snazzy artistes, as Soleil describes Streisand, only serve to depress me.
"You have no taste at all, Nicholas Barretto." She would say with a frown. I would only grin at her attempts to change me.
I wonder, would she be happier, if she knows that I now have a collection of tapes by Barbra Streisand. It seemed so important to her then.
Soleil-a contradiction of terms. Happy and sad. A bubble of energy and a mist of sadness. If someone would have asked me if I'd do it all over again, given half the chance, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.
"Sooooooo, is it good or is it good?"
I asked her with a satisfied grin after watching Casablanca at her home.
She did not answer but just stared at the ending credits in the screen. Something in her profile wiped away the smile on my face.
"Soleil-"
She started when I put a hand on her arm. And for the first time, her eyes yielded some of the ghosts that lingered to touch her at times. In a moment, her lips curved in that half-sad smile that I have come to know so well.
"Sorry." She said sheepishly. "Did you say something?"
"Are you all right?" I asked instead. "For a second there, you looked terrified-or something..."
"Don't be silly." She raised an eyebrow, a habit that irritated me.
I was flustered at the quick change. For a moment, her face held a hunted quality. It was not the kind of expression that you'd expect to have after watching Casablanca. Then this sudden switch back to the mischievous Soleil that I have grown to know so well.
"But-" I began, then decided I must have imagined it. "Oh, forget it."
She laughed. "Are we going senile here?"
"Am not." I glowered jokingly. Then in my best gangster voice, I said: "Don't be brash with me, young lady. If you know what's good for you."
She looked at me haughtily. "I don't think you could do it."
I frowned, then grinned. A slow smile began to light up her face. Soon, we were laughing, exchanging silly inanities that meant nothing at all.
The next day, I woke up to a knock on my bedroom. Still groggily half-asleep, I stumbled out of bed to let my mother in at 6:15 in the morning.
"Mom..." I groaned. "It's a Saturday, remember?"
"I just received a call from someone who said she's Soleil's aunt." She said without preamble. "Your friend's in Makati Medical. It seems she took a lot more than her prescribed medication dosage."
I remembered uttering a smothered "Oh, my God." suddenly awake. I did not even bother to answer the questions in my mother's eyes and dressed quickly. What could I say to her? That save for that second of mixed anger and fear in her eyes yesterday, I have absolutely no clue at all on what the hell is going on.
I found Mrs. Angeles outside the ICU doors, trying to stanch the overflowing tears. After driving through the legendary traffic of Makati, something in me suddenly did not want to go near her. But, of course, I did.
"Mrs. Angeles?"
A strained face looked up at me.
"Hello, Nick." she said, roughly wiping her cheeks with a sodden tissue.
I sat beside her, at a loss on what to do. Clumsily, I reached into my pants and handed a handkerchief to her. She gave me a watery smile and took it gratefully.
"Thank you." She whispered hoarsely.
"Uh, what happened, ma'am?"
I thought she would start crying again but she just dabbed at her eyes. "She was very quiet last night and I think I must have felt uneasy. When I asked her about it, she said she's just tired and would turn in early. Sleep it off, she said." Her face contorted, as if struggling to keep her composure. "Later, I checked on her and found her lying quietly on the bed. At first, I thought she was sleeping and then I saw her pills scattered on the floor. I brought her here when she would not respond to my calls."
Pills? I looked down at my shaking hands. "What are the pills for, ma'am?"
She gave me a strange look. "She didn't tell you."
"Tell me what?"
She hesitated, then spoke quietly. "At 14, she was diagnosed as HIV positive, Nick. Now she has full blown AIDS."
I could not believe it. Or perhaps, I would not. A sudden coldness was seeping through me. "A-AIDS?"
Mrs. Angeles nodded miserably. "She didn't, huh? I suppose I can't blame her. Please don't hate her, Nick. It had been a long time since she had someone like you."
It was hard to follow her, I was still reeling from shock. AIDS? It couldn't be. Only gay people had AIDS, not young and beautiful Soleil.
"I-uh, Mrs. Hernandez, can-can I see her now?"
"The nurses said not to disturb her."
"I promise I won't. Please, I-I just want to know if she's okay."
After some deliberation, she nodded. "All right. I know she would want to see you too."
I was not prepared at the sight when I opened the door. Never had I seen her that pale, plastic tubes running everywhere. It was frightening, as if I was staring at a person I hardly knew. My first instinct was to wake her, wanting only to hear her voice. To hear the old Soleil cracking jokes and calling me names. Then she opened her eyes and smiled.
"Hi, Nick."
I stood beside the bed and smiled back, hoping that the warmth in my voice sounded real. "Oh, hello. Should've called if you couldn't sleep. I could have read to you over the phone."
She laughed softly. "I didn't want to bother you."
The sadness in her eyes was more than I could bear. "Don't be silly." I said. "You'll never be a bother, Soleil."
"I'm sorry, Nick."
I held her free hand. "You should have told me."
A wan smile. "I'll be fine, it was just an accident. The pain was a little worse than usual and I must have taken more than I should."
What can I say? More than anything else, I wanted to hear the only thing that will reassure my fears. So I nodded and grinned stupidly.
"You better be, young lady. You still have a lot of explaining to do to my mother."
Soleil and her parents were on their way to Tagaytay when a truck collided with them, killing her parents instantly. She had needed transfusions before they could save her. Three months later, the memories of the accidents as solid as the body casts that she still had to wear, a routine check up revealed that she had accidentally been given contaminated blood.
She had been 14 then. A teen ager in the middle of confusing puberty forced to accept her parents death. Learning she had AIDS, it said a lot for the strength within her that she did not even try to slice her wrists.
AIDS was still a new disease then and people were just beginning to find things about it. Since then, her medications, which had not been less than ten pills and capsules, had become a part of her everyday routine. And loneliness had become a matter of course.
I could remember that distant afternoon while Claudia Angeles explained everything in the cafeteria of that hospital. Several times, she broke down, so wrapped up was she in her grief that she could not see what the revelation did to me. A part of me was repulsed and another part was afraid of what lay ahead. Yet, even then, I knew I could not leave her.
After all these years, I could still hear Aunt Claudia's entreaties for understanding and forgiveness. I could still taste the bitter laughter as I assured her of my loyalty while the sun filtered briefly through the windows.
Soleil, Soleil...
She looked up as I entered, a bunch of daffodils on my left hand. Smiling, she put down her pen and held out a hand.
"It's beautiful, Nick." She said, admiring the flowers and stood up. "I'll get a vase for this."
I nodded and let her go. This was her first day home. Unable to pick her up at the hospital because of my school schedule, I came directly here. Consciously, no changes had been made, no welcoming essence amongst the walls. It was simply a normal occurrence through the years.
"How did you get in?" She called out from the kitchen.
"Aunt Claudia." I replied, trying to inject enthusiasm in my voice. "I met her on her way out the door, so she let me in."
Soleil came striding back, in her hands a crystal vase filled with water and the flowers in it. She set it on the coffee table and began arranging them. I sat beside her on the couch.
"How's school?"
I smiled, trying not to notice the weary edges in her eyes. "The same as always. Booo-ring."
"Really, Nick. You should be grateful for the chance to be in school."
The blood rushed to my head and I was glad that her eyes remained at what she was doing. I just realized how much effort she put on all the things that most of us take for granted.
"I mean, so many kids are out of school." She continued conversationally. "And so many wanted an education of any kind. They can't help it but you can at least appreciate what you have."
Trying to summon up a frown was the hardest thing I did. "Are you trying to lecture me, lady?" I grumbled in my most serious face.
Soleil raised her head to look at me and laughed. "Oh, don't be so prissy, Nick. You know I'm right."
Her laughter caught at me. Numbly, I grinned back. "Okay, okay. You win."
She gave me a lingering smile and turned her eyes again to the flowers. "I'm sorry, Nick." she said softly.
We never really talked about her disease, letting things go on. As if nothing of importance had happened.
"There's no reason to be sorry."
"I should have told you."
I bit my lip. "It would have explained so much, but you didn't have to."
She gazed at me, silent for a moment. "You really meant that, didn't you?"
"Yes."
A slow smile lit up her face. "Thanks, Nick."
I spread my hands. "For what?"
From then on, things were easier between us. I used to hear a lot of 'I have to go', or 'I have to do something' without telling me exactly what it was. Now, she tells me 'I forgot my medication' or 'I have to go to the doctor again.'
Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if I knew nothing.
"Hey, nice embroidery." I plopped down beside her on the couch. "Is that for me?"
She stuck out a tongue at me. "Don't be cheeky, Nick. It's for Aunt Claudia's birth-ouch!!"
"Oh, no." Instinctively, I reached for her. "Here, let me see."
"Don't." She shrank back. "Are you out of your mind?"
Stunned, I watched her stand up and go to the kitchen without another word. Everything had been fine that I had forgotten to be careful. She had taken the needle, showing infinite caution. I had forgotten that she had lived with the disease half of her life.
When she came back, her finger was wearing three bandage strips.
"For security." she said, noting the glance I gave to her hand. "Sorry, Nick. I shouldn't have screamed at you."
"I hesitated. "No. No, that's considerate of you really. What am I thinking?"
Soleil laughed nervously. "Apparently nothing."
I fell silent, not knowing what to say.
"Nick." she reached with her other hand and pulled me down on the couch beside her. "We have to talk."
Something inside me rebelled at the tone of her voice. "There's nothing to explain, Soleil. I understand perfectly."
"That seems to be the problem. You don't."
I tried to grin at her, failing miserably.
"Look, Nick. More than anything else, except for my aunt, you've been the greatest friend anyone could have and I'm very grateful. I mean, so many are terrified to be near me, let alone to talk to me that admitting I've AIDS was like suddenly having horns and tails. I learned to take it."
"Soleil-."
"No, please." she touched my hand. "Let me finish. I have to say this. Nick, I am not what you can call 'normal'. It seems as if you're making yourself believe that I am. I'm lucky so far because I look okay but I am sick."
I bit my lip. "I know all that, Soleil."
"No, you don't. You can't touch me when I'm bleeding. You can't visit if you have a cold or something and I can't go to you either. I can't stay out late to party, I can't dance the night away-"
"Why not?"
"Because I'd end up feeling painful in the morning and my pain threshold isn't what it used to be." she gave me a weak smile. "And I can't let you fall in love with me."
Inspite of myself, I reddened. "It's that obvious huh?"
Soleil laughed a little. "That would only be the reason why you're here with me when there are probably others who'd like to be with you."
"Give me one good reason."
She didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Nick, please."
"No, don't give me that. What possible reason could there be for me not to love you."
She stood up. "Oh, God, are you really out of your mind? I have AIDS, not sunstroke. I'm already dying even as we speak."
I got up on my feet and faced her. "No, you're not. Stop saying that, Soleil. Every private and governmental researchers are racing to outdo each other to find a cure. It won't be long now, you can't lose hope."
There was a sudden mist in her eyes. "Oh, Nick, I'm not. But I'm being realistic. We both know that I may not even last the year."
The words tore at me. "Yes, you are." I insisted.
"Nick-."
"At any rate," I continued with a wavering smile. "It's too late. I already am too much in love with you and there's nothing I can do about it."
"That's not a very good idea."
"And you know you're in love with me too."
She hesitated, then smiled softly. "It's that obvious huh?"
I grinned, hiding away my pain. "No, but you just admitted it."
Soleil was silent for a few seconds. "Wrong move."
"Definitely." I said, reaching out to brush away the fallen tears. "But there's nothing more you can do about it either."
I remember wishing so hard for the afternoon to never end.
Part 2 Part 3 |
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