Live from Room 454

I have rubella. That’s German measles. And I’ve got the spots to prove them, i just wanted to have a Grey’s Anatomy-sounding illness to merit a room that costs roughly $30 per night.
I think I’ll be a week late in my Summer classes.

It started last Tuesday when I
went to school to do some stuff and catch a glimpse of Glenn who was coming
over for a debate drill.
Henri, in his usual mysterious and oftentimes surreal insinuations, asked
me to stay for a day of debate and “more”. I would have wanted to stay, I was
dying to stay. But the usual reasons of my trips across the strait pervaded. I had
no choice, so to speak.

That night at home, I almost died from fever. Goodness gracious! It was
the first time I never left my bed unwillingly. By Thursday, I checked in at my
favorite hotel –Ciudad Medical Zamboanga.

And once again, it’s summer and a week before the start of my yearly
scholarship-less study in Ateneo.

 

This time, he didn’t just ask me whether I know our good high school
valedictorian, our dear beaker-throwing screeching “General’s daughter”. We talked.
God knows how his visit is better than any dose of paracetamol they give me. Haayyy…
I almost forgot the 6 testube-full amount of blood they drain from me every
dawn of my stay.

Glenn is everything. We had a debate practice and I was in their team
(with the Henri) and to hell with Tibet. I just wanted to be near this person
who has been the subject of quite a few rumors before (imported from
Dumaguete). He’s shy, although the picture I had for moths since the last time
we “met” tell otherwise, but then again Henri would insist he was shy. Trust him
on this. Henri is an authority on Glennology.

Glenn spent all his fun days, even delaying his return to Silliman, with
the debate varsity, with coffee here and there and on the eve had karaoke at
home with all of them –without me. And as Henri says it, “nah… sayang…” Well I had a “royal visit” anyway, why complain? As much
as I want to whimper and cry on the floor on why I wasn’t there in Sta. Maria
eating pancit canton with Glenn, I can’t foolishly act that now… duh… the
rubella would slap me hard enough to make me realize that I was sick.

Maybe PCSO would be proud if I consider as a fitting consolation the fact
that at least Glenn does reply to the sms I send him, no matter how silly I need
to make myself appear to merit one.

 

I need Glenn.

Even if the Coffee Gang frowns upon it.  

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