The Big Reunion

I was not surprised when I arrived to Antigua and saw Cristina, an ancient lover of mine, on the door ready to promote the night at hand. She approached me with an air of serenity in her voice, chicly dressed with a white tank top that revealed her charms and I was even spotted innocently eying her, although a bit distant and too casual for the occasion. Long gone was the effusiveness with which we would encounter each other in our forgotten Tuesday mornings by the Gap store in the lower lever of the former World Trade Center. I didn’t want to seem too festive either, it is not a proper way to deal with the opposite sex.
I had attended there with the intention of fulfilling a reunion gone awry, given that I didn’t make it quite the visualization I had in mind. As a matter of fact, I had given up on the idea of getting together with a bunch of friends and celebrating the recently released compilation book that includes a poem of mine. Like a manifested prophecy, just like I had insinuated on a latter poem (which, by the way, will be also published at the end of summer) named “Friends”, the only true friend that surfaced was Jorge, who happened to be also the first one informed about the event. In the poem, I had written that we will have a blast in the name of absence. Maybe that focus was the cause of my disarray. I did make a vague endeavor to gather a few other friends. I called Claudia and left her a message with my phone number and said that if anything I’d call her back, but never did call her back nor did she return my call. I tried Dalida but up to date she hasn’t answered her phone. True she doesn’t know who could possibly be but how can I ever tell her that it’s me if she never answers. I regret having called Claudia but not Dalida. The night we all coincided in Kaña, it was Dalida who picked me up from the bare pavement on which I had laid my arms and took me home. That is something I will never forget. Her absence shall be excused henceforth. Even if she is never to surface again. What a dire diagnose! If anything, nothing but friends is all there is. I will try again Claudia. She has a life, what can I say? I should have thought of inviting Michael. Nonetheless, it was Michael, Jorge, and let’s not forget Cristina.
Whatever the case, we did have a blast. I hadn’t counted on the company of another true friend, Michael, who showed up uninvited, a suggestion I hadn’t envisioned as a possibility even though another poem of mine, “(Untitled)”, reads in a particular line: “I get the suspicion that a friend of mine is going to appear uninvited at my doorstep”. Well, that wasn’t certainly the light on which things flowed. The reality always adds its sinister touch. He had, all of a sudden, called me to see what I was doing and I invited him. So, technically, he was not there uninvited but did surprise me that in the end I had ended up almost effortlessly with two of my closest allies in the existential arena, and celebrate we did!
The place did not lend itself to the magnificent unfolding of events. It was an Ecuadorian night, and there is no dancing in Antigua. We did attempt to escape. Our goodwill was not rewarded. The nearby places we chose to make our getaway were not full in the ideal sense. That is, no girls, no party. In the hunters/gathers scenario, my friends are gathers. They are neutral when it comes to hunting, frivolous, insecure. I too am a bit insecure at heart, but it rarely shows. I pound my insecurity with an eagerness that would make any modern age Casanova blush. I fight my “gathering” and “cuddling” instincts. Also, I do it with the ultimate goal of setting an example to them. I was pleased to hear Michael backing up my argument that in no respect I’m intimidated by the opposite sex (actually, among guys, the fancy rephrasing is purged, and what I explicitly said was, “I am not afraid of pussy”). It was a slow night, Michael conceded in the end. But there’ll be plenty of others.