A typical night in my room:
I’d be in front of the computer. Splattered on the table would be scraps of paper inserted in the pages of thick books. Al would be at his desk, reading history books. Mark would be lying on his bed, tinkering with his laptop, waiting for me to finish so that the lights would be turned off, and he could go to sleep.
And then, just when the clock ticks to 10:30, Art would come rushing in, tired after classes, org meetings, and church involvements, carrying his stacks of books, his backpack, and sometimes, food for all of us. He’d throw his things on his desk, wash his face—take a bath even—and then tell me, “Lance, anong oras ka matutulog?”
“Mga 1:30 na siguro, Art,” I’d reply.
“Pagising naman, o.”
“Sige ba. Any exams tomorrow?”
“Oo, may thesis pa akong tatapusin. Tapos, may take home pa,” he’d say, followed by his incessant reminder for me to get enough sleep because I shouldn’t tire myself, otherwise I’d get even thinner.
I’d tell him, “Art, I’m okay, don’t worry. Sige, Art, one of these days, mag-jajogging na ako, magbabasketball pa. Tatalunin kita. Maghanda ka na.”
Now that the sem has just started, Art is no longer around. Last sem, he finished BS Business Economics in three-and-a-half years, considering that he shifted all the way from Polsci.
For about two years of living together with him, I’ve seen how he has grown in faith and love for God. He’d often tell me of his concerns, praise items, among others. During my low times, he would remind me of God’s faithfulness and goodness, and what a blessing he has been.
I saw him a couple of days ago, hanging around in the dorm lobby. He’s applying for a coveted post in Globe. He’s on the last leg of the interview, and we’ve all been praying that, if God wills it, he’d get the job.
“Art, ‘pag nasa Globe ka na at may cellphone na ako, don’t forget to send me free load, ha?” I said.
He gave me his famous grin (something that ladies dream of looking at forever), cracked one of his bloody corny jokes, and gave me a tap on the shoulder.