Sick (Manila, Philippines)

When I was five years old, I got incredibly sick. My mom thought it was something I ate or I caught the flu, but I kept progressively got worse and worse despite everything that my mom did to make me well. Finally she had no choice but to take me to the pediatrician.

My doctor did every test in the book but still couldn’t find out what was wrong with me. Now both my doctor and my mom became very concerned. Then my doctor asked me a couple of questions. I was so little I don’t remember what he asked. But I do remember the conversation I had with my mom in the car driving back home. I was still very sick. I was not talking and despondent.

“So you like a little girl in your kindergarten class?”

I nodded. And I did. I still remember her. Her name was Stephanie. She was the preacher’s daughter and she had an identical twin sister who wore glasses (the only way to distinguish between them). And during nap time, we would hide under the reading table and kiss.

I told my mom, “I love her.”

And my mom laughed softly and then began to weep.

“What’s wrong?” I asked confused.

“I was so worried about you,” she said smiling despite the tears running down her face. “And you were just love sick.”

And now I am thirty four years old and I am coming down with it again.

Sophia met me in the lobby of the hotel. The same hotel that she met me in with her big bag packed for South Africa when I had flown all night from Australia to see her. Now she was empty handed. It was just her. I was at reception checking in.

And she came up behind me, spun me around, kissed me, and I tasted something familiar.

She saw it in my face and she gave that crazy look, “What?”

“Wow. I never noticed before. But you taste like my kindergarten girlfriend.”

She kissed me again quickly.

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