The Morning After

I woke up with my head feeling heavy.

The clock said it was a few minutes before eight, the blinds were down and it was unusually quiet. The vibe in our four pax room was pretty different from the typical atmosphere the past few days, and I noticed that my clothes weren’t the same as the ones I wore the night before.

I stood up from the girls’ bed, and “good morning” you said. I greeted you back but I couldn’t contain the uneasiness, and calm and smiling, I started asking what happened. Though you tried hard to keep it cool, the guilt didn’t want to escape your face. The only concern I had was the fact that I missed the sunrise party on our last night at the island but at that moment, I realized we were dealing with something bigger.

It was still quiet in the room — our other roommate was at peace under the sheets, while the other was in the bath doing her morning ritual. With your back against the boys’ bed board, you began revealing that I had to be taken care of last night. I couldn’t buy it. I mean, how? I'm strong, how could that be?

When you said she was going to talk to us, that’s when it all dawned on me — that explains why I couldn’t remember coming into the room, how I have different clothes on and why there was no sunrise party. Worry suddenly crept in me but for an unknown reason, and all I could ask was was she mad. Without batting an eyelash, your answer was yes, to us both.

And then there was silence.

She got out of the bath room and sat between us.

At first she didn’t want to start on it yet. And though I wanted to know what was up, I knew as well that we were at a disadvantage and that I needed to be patient. And as I try my hardest to weave the fragments in my head, you pushed the button.

Said she didn’t mind about what went on last night, but what she dropped was a warning — to ready ourselves because everyone witnessed and would probably feast on it. With our consciousness back, we were quick to dismiss the thought and tried to cold-bloodedly say that we didn’t care at all.

I never felt so ashamed in my life.

As much as I wanted to shrug it off like it was nothing, it was real fucked up. Accepting that I did the craziest things with another person who I wasn’t supposed to, add to that that you’re not some random person whom I could just easily avoid and forget about after the trip — it was insane. I needed time to absorb what was served to me that morning.

People wouldn’t stop sharing their accounts of that eventful night and that was when it all came whole. When you two are basically tied and are each other’s shadows, then suddenly the culprits of what was to be dealt with are also you too — would you rant to you, about you?

Awkwardness grew there was no doubt, but felt how there was shared accountability, and how we’re still in it together. And as innate it was for us to talk just about anything deeply, it’s ironic that we couldn’t open our mouths. The downside of being the woman is that the weight was heavier even when I was at the receiving end of what was said and done that night. You not letting me deal with the meaningful smiles alone helped get through the day, and the constant checking if I was okay even if you never left my side, that was sweet. I could still clearly remember how you cared so much about me skipping breakfast and not having anything to eat so we walked to 7-11 to get hotdog before heading to the airport. If it wouldn’t do more damage at the time, I would’ve loved to hug you tight and maybe break down I guess?

Just kidding. I didn’t think about it that time.

Only now.

Aaaahh.

Fucking summer.