I have no idea where my pair of “black leather shoes” is right now. It had been a couple of years since we last saw each other. My current pair is currently resting inside the shoe cabinet in our home. Though I’ve been to better places and events with my current pair, I can definitely say that “black leather shoes” shared greater moments with me than them.
The pair came from a foreign land, probably Dubai. Either they came via package or my father brought them home for me. I wish I can remember but that specific detail has been erased out of my memory. I put them on right away when they arrived and walked a few steps trying to get in sync with them. The feeling kids would get every time a new school year begun took over me. The sounds those two made as we walked, I can still hear up to this day. Why it brings a funny smile on my face, I can only make a guess.
One of our earliest great memories was my first Thesis defense. The three of us stood in front of the Thesis panelists armed with our best English vocabulary. It wasn’t as good as it is now, but we tried our best. During the event my legs would shake every now and then (thank you panelists and room temperature). Whenever one of them would ask a question, the three of us would stumble picking words out of our vocabulary hat. Left and Right would whisper their suggestions. At some questions I followed Left. At some questions I listened to Right. However, most of the time I mistakenly used both of their recommendations and I sounded like an idiot. Perhaps the shaking of my legs was to blame for their performance that night. The good thing, the three of us came out of my first Thesis defense alive. We would face the music again after five months with improved vocabulary and more confidence.
When I graduated from college, call centers were booming here and there. The three of us decided to join the fad. In my very first work interview, the call center manager popped a question. “What are your strengths?” she asked. There was silence for a minute or two. I swear it felt like forever. I looked at Left and asked him what my strengths were. He just stared at me blankly. Then, I turned to Right hoping she could help me instead. She was no better. I finally turned my head up and spoke. It was miles worse than my first Thesis defense. Unsurprisingly to you, but not to me, we failed the interview. We anticipated for the callback but we never got it. That was our first disappointment.
It suppressed our spirits for a while but we did find our enthusiasm again. Soon enough, we were traversing the streets and roads of Alabang, Makati, Mandaluyong, Cubao, Quezon City and Ortigas. We three rode the MRT and different buses. We would ask strangers for directions. Sometimes we got lost. We endured sunny and rainy days together. The Ayala underpass, we’d been there. The Megamall, Southmall, Glorietta, Eastwood, and Oakwood – the three of us had been there. Name it and there’s a high probability that we had been there. That was probably the reason Left’s and Right’s soles became worn out. Poor Right, she suffered a crack that botched her skin forever. It was beyond repair.
One of our embarrassing moments was during one rainy night. We finally were accepted by a call center in Libis, Eastwood. On our way home, we took the wrong route. Instead of taking a few transport vehicles, we ended up with more. We got to a not-so-familiar market in Alabang just as the rain started to pour. People wanting to get home were abundant as well but there were only few public transports available. I knew Left and Right were very tired already. Getting them home occupied my mind heavily. So when a new jeepney arrived, I dashed quickly to it and grabbed its rails. It did not stop for us. It dragged us for a few seconds. My feet hurried in ways it had not done before just to get up the jeepney. Some people gasped while some laughed. My only concern then was to get a ride home as soon as possible. It was a good thing I had strong legs and lifted Left and Right inside to safety. As the other passengers boarded the vehicle, we could hear their chuckles.
Three more jobs and a year had passed. I was at the topmost floor of the building where my new job was located. Left and Right were still with me. School was cancelled already. Typhoon Milenyo was in Metro Manila. The raging wind was visible from the glass windows. Our good office finally decided to send us home by noon. It was obviously not good to continue the rest of the day in the office. Unfortunately, the elevators had stopped working. We had no choice but to use the stairs. Descending 27 levels, we finally faced the storm. Left, Right and I saw trees uprooted. We witnessed Billboard signs going down, vehicle windows breaking and different objects being blown by the wind. Stranded some place we did not want to be, we thought we were about to spend the night on the streets. A la deus ex machina, a voice yelling a name of a destination broke what we felt was silence. There was a public van a few meters away from us trying to hoard passengers. However, to get to the van meant passing through a flood that was almost up to my knees. I thought of the bacteria in the flood and hesitated for a few moments. I did not want my pair of “black leather shoes” to be drenched in filthy water.
“I wouldn’t mind going through that dark and dirty water,” Left spoke out to me.
“Neither do I,” Right added. “Not unless you want to be left here while us two get to that van.”
Thinking it would just be another of those adventures one experiences throughout life, I crossed the flood with my pair of “black leather shoes”. An hour or so after, we’d find ourselves landing in front of our home’s doorsteps. Left smelled really bed. Right looked really exhausted.
Recalling these memories somehow makes we want to look for Left and Right. But I figure they probably do not want to have anything to do with me. They made it at least a year without me already. I suppose they’re not thinking of me anymore. Who knows though? Perhaps, one day I’ll see them again and we’ll go out together like those good old times.
