ENCORE

UNEDITED SAMPLE LITERARY ARTICLE
By Jose Mari Hall Lanuza
IV-Enrico Fermi


I usually get an encore from the audience whenever I perform. I do not expect them to do so, nor do I care if they give me one or not. I have been so accustomed to their cheers that all of the voices I hear in front if the lights seem to have no meaning anymore. I am actually beginning to get sick of it. But among all the encores of my performances, there is only one which I yearn for everyday. How I wish that that encore would turn permanent.

We have been together for almost three years now. Three bittersweet, yet desirable years together. Yes, we have had our share of ups and downs, but we have always managed to get by. And there has never been a more satisfying task for me than taking care of her. But that satisfaction always came with longing and sadness. Something was not right. I was supposed to be the one caressing her hair, touching her face, dancing wither under a full moon. I was supposed to be the one she loved. So why am I not the one she is sitting beside to while watching the stars at night? Why am I here, without her?

Scene one. I was supposed to go directly to the classroom without any stops. But someone blocked my way. She was not supposed to stand there. Why didn’t anyone say cut? “Hey there. We are good for Saturday right? You are coming with me? To the library?” This was not in my script. But I had to ad lib. Anything for the audience. “Yeah, sure. See you there.” I walked away from her, keeping to myself the loneliness and again, keeping up my act.

Scene two. The script I kept reading in my mind said that I was supposed to be jogging around the block alone. So it had bothered me why this girl was here again, running beside me. Doesn’t she know how much hurt this gives me? Security! “Where were you yesterday? Did you forget that you were supposed to meet me at the library?” I had missed that appointment on purpose. I was afraid that doing so would only make me go deeper and I knew that eventually, that would mess up my whole play. “Oh. Sorry about that. It must have slipped my mind,” I lied. “Good thing Keith was there. At least I was not alone. But I am going to let you off the hook this time. Ok? See you at school!” And then she blew a kiss to my direction. She walked away, and I continued my jogging, this time with tears in my eyes. This cannot be. Make-up!

Scene three. After taking that brutal Biology test, we were going to have lunch together. Just like the old times, only then it did not hurt this much. “So, he asked me out last night.” Ouch. Was that included in the script? “Really. That is nice. Will you go then?” “I do not know yet. What do you think?” Great, this is exactly what I need right now. “You should go out with him. He is a nice guy, and you look good together.” Ouch again. “Really? You think so? If you say so, then it must be true. Movies on Friday it is, then.” Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. I have got to change my scriptwriter.

Final Scene. I did not see her or speak to her for a few months. That helped ease up the pain. Acting sure is hard. Most of the time I think that I am not getting paid enough for this. Suddenly I saw her approaching me. Hey, this was not in the script! Does she even read her script? “Hey. I missed you.” So bittersweet were her words that reverberated in my mind. If only a happy ending was written at the final page of the script. “Yeah, me too. How are you?” I managed to get that out of my throat which suddenly felt as dry as the Sahara. “I am good. Listen, Keith and I are together now. We have been together for more than a month. He wants to meet the guy that put me up for our first date.” Nice. Isn’t the hero of a story supposed to be victorious? Or glorified? “Oh. Sure.” “Great! Thanks so much! You are the bestest friend a girl can ever have!” Do not cry, do not cry. “You are welcome.” And with one kiss blown from her sweet, dreamy lips to me, she was gone.

That role was the most challenging role I have played. That was my best act yet. But I wonder why my audience had given me the smallest, weakest encore ever. That was not even an encore. That was nothing. If only my audience would have asked for an encore performance, I would do it all over again. I would again, for the nth time, play the caring best friend with unrequited love. If only she had asked for an encore.

With the curtains dropping, I bowed and thanked my audience. “Thank you, for letting me perform in the stage of your life. I love you.” The lights close, and the theater is soon empty. I am left standing on the stage, waiting for the encore that would never come.