In the good old days, cell phone was a luxury. Not everyone could afford one. What more a school girl like me. Other than the classic telephone and mIRC chatrooms, the only other way to flirt and convey your feelings were through love letters.
When I was in my form 2, I had been receiving 'regards' or 'kirim salam' from a senior I have never met and known. I have never fancied this secret admirer thingy because I thought it was lame and cheesy (thanks for being friend with milla who was a rocker back in school :) but this one particular person have always made my heart pounds. Although, for the entire school year, I have never knew who he was.
I was a loud girl back in school. And being loud does come with shortages. When you are loud you are prone to getting others to dislike you. And in high school, they call these loud or extra loud girls as gedik. Well, I was not extra loud but I guess I qualified to be branded as gedik.
My class was on the 4th floor next to the form 3 class. And you have to pass through this senior class to get to my class. I had a guy friend (Jambu) in the 3 Jujur class who often came to me asking for numbers and details of the junior girls in my batch. And in return (as I always thought) he said one person in his class asked him to send me his regards. I never really buy this as I thought he Jambu was just trying to please me so I would help him more often.
But ah well I was a school girl anyways. Although I never buy the person's name or what so ever, his regards always made my day. Even though I knew Jambu would have most probably came up with the name, time made me vulnerable to the feelings alike and I started to believe there was actually one person in their class names ****.
School girls like to go to the toilet although we never really used the toilet. And that includes me. One morning while I was climbing up the stairs to my class, I saw my clic of girl friends making their way to the toilet. I rushed to my class, put my school bag and rushed out from the back door to join the morning gossip session with my girlfriends in the toilet.
And that was the first time I saw him. I was rushing out my back door and he was only making his way into his front door class. And we collided. I saw him moved aside but I could not be bothered until I saw his name tag. FER. I made my way but I stopped at his back door and looked back, he was looking from the inside and smiled. And I had butterflies. That was the first contact I had with him after months of hearing his name. And I thought, oh after all, this guy DOES EXIST! I never really paid attention to the gossips that morning. I had that picture of us bumping into each other and the few second contact kept playing in my head, over, and over, and over again.
Ever since that, I tend to behave better whenever I passed his class; no more running, no more shouting. I walked anxiously and sometimes, I could feel as though there is a pair of eyes watching me from the inside. I never looked in as I used to because I was afraid I would be shy if I saw him.
Whenever I made the turn to my class passing his class, Jambu and friends were always loitering around at their back door whistling at girls passing by. If I used to greet Jambu and he would ask me names and details of the other juniors, there was a time when it was me they were whistling at. Everytime I passed by his class, they will call his name out loud and said 'heyy ****, look who's passing by here' and whistled. I didnt know how to react. At all. I suppose I liked him too. :)
But that was it. Until they were done with PMR and our class had to be removed to another class (which means we were no longer their next door :( , I clinged on to his picture in my head of the only contact we had. I knew I liked him too but he never made his moves so I guess I was not really his type. We did bumped in mIRC but he never really say hi to me. It was awkward. And weird. My nickname was antu^girl and his was budak^hantu. What a coincidence!
I had never heard from him ever since. The school year had come to an end and the seniors were done with their PMR. We were done with our final year exams and we came to school to have fun and participate in activities held by the school. I dont know how it is now but there was a culture of writing autographs and contact informations in small autographs books at every year end and I was walking around getting the seniors in form 5 (yes, I was close to some of the form 5's too) to fill my book.
I was sitting with my girlfriends in my class when I saw Jambu and friends walking down the stairs from the distance. I rushed out the classroom and shouted aloud and ran to him with my autograph book. I asked him and his friends to write in it as kenang-kenangan. And I told him, please ask **** to write too.
On the afternoon of 181199, I was in class when Mon (one of my girl friends) came and said somebody wants to see me. I went out to the stairs and I saw **** with a friend of his waiting for me. He handed over the book to me and said something which I could not hear properly because I was too busy blushing and hiding behind Mon. I said thank you to him and we exchanged smile. I went back to class and read his page where he gave his number and wrote (please call, its urgent). I was moved with this and I gave him a call later in the afternoon and we started talking ever since frequently on the telephone. He said there was nothing urgent, just wanting to get to know me more urgently. :)
He passed his PMR with flying colour. He's got 8 A's and was granted a place in MRSM Jasin and that was when we started to write love letters. He would call me everytime he came home and made me happy with his stories. Yes everytime. Except for one time, one last weekend that he came home without calling me.
Mon had became very close to him. Some times I envied Mon but he said he was close to Mon because she was my best friend and he was comfortable with her. But I was jealous and I quarrelled with Mon because of him.
The last weekend he came home I went to KLIA to send baba abroad. My phone at home was not working so I called Mon to apologise. 29th October 2000. I called her to say I am so sorry and I hope to see her the next day to sit for our first PMR paper. But she said Adah be calm for what I am about to tell you. **** had passed away in an accident today. I was crushed. I hope she lied. I wanted to asked more but my line had been cut off.
The next day I went to school crying. Every one thought I was afraid of PMR but Mon and my girlfriends knew why and they consoled me. My BM paper was literally wet because I cried all the way while writing the paper. The invigilators repeatedly warned me not to wet the papers so they could be marked. But they didnt know what was happening and I kept on crying and crying and crying and I could not stop until the 3rd day.
I never went to the tahlil nor his funeral. I was too vulnerable. But until today, whenever I have the time to, I will stop by at his cemetery. Make some prayers and wet the soil with some waters. I went there with Milla most of the times. We will stop at his plot first, then to Milla's dearly departed cousin next.
His smiles have never left the wall in my head. And I had not stopped from writing love letters to him. I would tell him everything that excites me and hoped I will someday get some replies. I never did, of course. And as time passes by, I hated myself for forgetting how he sounded like and how his voiced had soothes my ears all this time. And without fail, sparked butterflies and brought smiles to me. I was really really crushed.
Today I was browsing through facebook and saw some old class photos. I thought I was familiar with that face and I guessed it right. It was him and it sparked butterflies in me. Again. Still does. :)
I never knew whether he really liked me or not. He dedicated roses and all the cheesy things to me but never made it clear. A friend of mine said he referred me as his girlfriend. And I cried frantically questioning why do I have to know only when he's gone? But Allah loves him more and the fate had been written.
I have loved a few and get over them. I even get cosy with a friend because he has a soothing voice similar to ****'s. I gave him hope and crushed him because I realized the more I get to know him, the more I realize he is different from ****. Faissal, if by any chance you ever read this piece, I am truly sorry and this is the reason why.
Yes, I have loved a few and get over them. But I have never managed to get over ****. Sometimes I wonder, if he is still alive, will we ever be together? Or will I still be adoring him? Or was everything just a joke in the very first place? Wallahua'lam.
One thing for sure, he had truly gave me an experience every girls ought to have. I could even safely say here, he was my first puppy love. He was and will always be my secret admirer.
May you rest in peace, my dear FER. Al- Fatihah.
