Mobile Attraction

“Quick, make a left! Now dodge that car! Oh no, we’re gonna crash!”

“Aww man, could you please just keep quiet? I’m trying to concentrate here!”

“Hmmp, fine. Just ‘cuz I’m better at you doesn’t mean you get to bitch about it!”

Then we’d argue for hours, well, until she left anyway. She’d go to her home right across ours, we’d eat dinner, maybe do some homework, then we’d find ourselves chatting over the phone like we haven’t met in years. Of course, those phone chats would always end up with us arguing as to who is better at this game or that.

Back then, I always thought of her as annoying and boyish. She’s about as tall as me, and just about a little thinner. She’s not much of a looker, but she does have her good angles; although, being as she would almost always wear boy clothes, it wouldn’t be as apparent. Either that or the fact that she had also kicked the ass of every major bully in town, at least to my recollection.

“Hey! I demand a rematch!”

“Aren’t you tired of getting your ass handed to you? Hahaha!”

“Bug off, this time I’d win for sure…”

But I won’t. It’s funny now that I think about it; I never really won any serious games against her back then. She’d do just that, hand me my ass, but that didn’t deter me from trying. And I’d keep on losing and losing until my thumbs grew tired.

It’d go on like this from elementary through high school. She’d come over, we’d play some games, she’d beat me in every one of them, then she’d go home. We still had our phone chats, but we outgrew our landline phones in favour of mobile ones. That’s when we’d chat till past midnight in hushed tones so we won’t get caught. We tried SMS, but it just wasn’t the same, and we’d always end up calling each other anyway.

“Hey, you’re not going to sleep yet?”

“I dunno. I still wanna talk with you…”

“Haha, but we’ve talked about everything!”

And yes, we would. We’d invent games and ask silly questions just so we could talk on and on over our mobiles. This became especially true on rainy days or on very busy days when she couldn’t come over. Sometimes, when we really couldn’t think of anything to talk about, we’d just lie down in our bedrooms and breathe ourselves to sleep.

“Wow, it’s getting rainy outside…”

“Yeah… Do you mind if… I stay with you here for a while? I don’t… Really want to go home yet…”

“Um, I guess it’s fine…”

I still remember how her soft skin felt that time. Nobody was home except for the two of us; my mom and dad were still at work, stranded by the rain. Her parents were also at work, and after calling her on her mobile to check whether she’s safe, they just told her to stay over till the rain stopped. We really didn’t know how it ended up that way, but it felt so natural being with each other the way we did.

We found ourselves going up to my second floor bedroom, sharing a bed meant for one. The rain muffled our voices, our hushed breaths betraying the emotions and sensations we were sharing. It wasn’t about the ruffled sheets or the mind numbing pleasure, but it was about something else, something words cannot even begin to describe. It was pure emotion, pure sensation, a pure and innocent union of souls.

“Hey, the rain stopped…”

“Yeah…”

“Aren’t you… Going home yet?”

The following morning, she didn’t come over to visit. At first I thought maybe she’s just busy with something, but the memories of the previous day lingered in my mind. I was torn between pleasure and guilt, between bliss and regret. I got worried but I had chores to do, so I fought through my day, eager for evening -and the opportunity to talk to her- to arrive.

I tried calling her landline number, but no one picked up. I tried several times, but seeing that the results wouldn’t be any different, I tried her mobile instead.

“The number you dialled is out of coverage area.”

I tried again. I received the same pre-recorded message. I kept trying and trying, but I kept receiving the same pre-recorded message.