The Thing about Luck

By Jessa Mae Gabalones

It was a warm afternoon amidst the chilly winter days when luck came knocking on my door.

She stood there, freezing, enveloped by snow. It took me a second to recognize that familiar face from a decade ago. She told me she was lost — that she was new around town, and that they’d only moved in at the apartment next door.

A minute passed by, and then two. She stood there with a smile, and I could only reply with silence from awe. I then realized that the feeling of familiarity was one-sided, and she had not recognized who I was.

It didn’t matter to me. Besides, the existence of a 16-year-old classmate who sat beside her in English for 4 years was much easier to forget when you don’t stay in touch. Perhaps it was normal.

The feelings I tried so hard to bury for a decade came back from the dead, clawing their way out from 6 feet under.

What were the chances that my first love and I would reunite this way? At that moment, I could only think of luck.

During the next few weeks, I decided to man up and invite her to the local ice cream parlor. Disguised as a local tour, I was nothing but a man who just wanted to be with the woman I adored.

It was only then I found out that she liked sweets, while strawberries stood above all in her eyes. At that moment, I could only think of how unlucky I was, since strawberries made my throat itch.

One time became two times, and two times eventually turned into our Fridays. On all those Fridays, I did nothing but savor the taste of strawberries, her sweet presence, and the bitterness of antihistamine.

As the ice in our bowls melted, so too did my walls. Layer by layer, thawing slowly each time she smiled.

Seasons have passed, and leaves have shed. Before I knew it, it was winter again.

Trips to the ice cream shop remained our thing for the past year. This time around, I was planning to visit the ice cream shop with her as my lover — and so, I braved that path with hopes of lady luck once again being on my side.

With the ring nestled in the middle of my palm, I noticed the lines engraved on it. I dared to scrutinize every dash, every segment. I was convinced that luck bound us together — so much so that I was confident each little line in my palm all lead to her.

I was expecting a myriad of events that day — from her saying yes, to her hugging me and telling me that she reciprocates my feelings. However, seeing her walk toward the ice cream parlor with another man in hand was something that never crossed my mind.

She looked over her shoulder and for a moment, our eyes locked. What lies behind those orbs lay an abyss I do not dare to explore for fear of getting answers.

I turned my back and walked the other way. I had no choice but to clutch my fingers and once again keep it to myself - the ring and my intentions. Amidst the freezing winter snow, I was returned to summer graduation, walking away with my feelings intact yet shattered simultaneously. It was a warm afternoon when someone knocked on my door.

She stood there, freezing, enveloped by snow — a moment of jealousy passed by me as I wished how that could’ve been me feeling her warmth, slowly melting at her touch.

She said she could explain, that she was going to tell me eventually.

A minute passed by, and then two. She stood there with eyes begging to be heard, and all I could reply was silence. I closed the door, stealing one final glance at the figure I was about to let go of again.

I suppose that’s the thing about luck — on some winters, it’s a fleeting blessing, and on others, it’s a curse that lingers for a lifetime.