Macky.

I remember a guy I met so many years ago, maybe 6 or 7 years back. His name was Macky. I met him in Makati when I got a job offer at a call center (I was looking for a job to support my clubbing, as my parents wouldn't. Haha). Macky was the only other person out of the 28 candidates for the position who also got a job offer. We stayed at the HR office signing contracts, doing the first part of the training session until well after sunset. The most natural thing to do after that was to grab a bite to eat, maybe chit-chat. But he was broke. I was broke. I didn't have any money. I only had cigarettes. I couldn't invite him back to the apartment I shared with my brothers, even though I saw he was so hungry his hands shook. I myself was so hungry my hands shook. But I couldn't, because we didn't have food at home. We were gonna go to my uncle's house for dinner, because that's what we do on the days we finish our allowance dry - go to our uncle's for our meals. So I stayed with him at the steps of that tall building in Makati, across the street from BPI, until 9 or 10pm, sharing my pack of cigarettes, hoping he had a place to go home to afterwards. I had to call my brother to pick me up because I didn't have money for public transport. The next day, second day of training, at around lunch, I was hungry but I didn't have any money again. I thought of going home to my uncle's, but then I would have spent more than I could afford on public transport. So I stayed outside, on the roof of the tall building, smoking my hunger pangs away. I remember looking at my hands; they were so skinny. I remember thinking, "Patay-Gutom". A Tagalog expression that means someone who is always so hungry to the brink of death. After a couple of cigarettes, waiting for my hour-long break to finish, I hear Macky calling me. He had a sandwich in his hand, cut in half. We shared a sandwich, and then a smoke afterwards. I remember the very next day, I quit the job. I wonder where he is. Whatever happened to him? I remembered him as I was reading one of Kimmi's blog entries, about the people who touch our lives.

How quickly they are.. forgotten.

He was a Filipino-American, born and bred in LA. He liked philosophy, cars, sports. That's all my brother and I can remember of him.