nemesis

Years ago, when I was in college, the teachers regarded me with utter dislike. I do not know if this declaration stems out purely from paranoia, but that is beside the point. One of them in particular, treated me with such loathing it could only be described as 'a burning desire to annihilate'. She was my English 5 teacher.

When she looked at me I could feel her eyes boring into my skull, as if willing it to burst so she could check if there's anything of value inside. It didn't help any that I almost always sat with two of the peskiest people God ever invented: Carlo and Paco. Whenever Mrs. G's eyes traveled in our direction, her glance, no matter how fleeting, always sent ripples up and down my spine. The two boys, it seemed, were made of some impenetratable material. They wouldn't have recognized a bazooka if Mrs. G hit them on the head with it.

To pass the time, Carlo would draw weird things in MY notebook, unleashing his inner-bitch. I would sometimes wonder why his drawings often featured guns and every manner of mutilation. "Carl," I said one time, "why don't you draw something light?" He drew Jesus on the cross.

Paco, on the other hand, would do origami from Carlo's drawings. And sometimes, much to Mrs. G's disgust, he would habitually disappear for fifteen minutes to participate in a drinking roulette at 3J's. Then he would come back again, somewhat stuporous, and sheepishly remark, "nag-chismisan pa kami ni Milady."

By the end of the semester, my notebook was reduced to six pages. But I managed to pass the subject. Mrs. G gave me a 76. Maybe she figured if she failed me, she would have 50-50 risk of seeing me again in class.

Coming out of Davao Doc after an interview last month, Mrs. G and I ran into each other. "Hey," she said, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm going to teach here." I flashed her my sweetest smile.

"What?" "Why?"

"Well, why not?" The smile never left my face.

"Are you sure?" She needed more than just convincing. She needed to know why the universe should allow me to become a part of her existence again. I was the boil that wouldn't go away.

"Yeah. See you in the halls."

When I looked back, Mrs. G was scratching the occipital region of her head.

Hah! So much for bliss. The plague is back to torment you, again and again, and again.

...and again.