Maya

"A reunion?" My fingers abruptly stop working on the mouse wheel, and I straighten up, releasing the phone from between my jaw and shoulder and using my hand to hold it instead.

"Yeah, because this year we are completing fifteen years of graduating from high school. Isn't that something to celebrate?" Da-Mi asks me excitedly.

"Wow... fifteen years already? Saying that makes me feel so old," I chuckle, taking off my glasses and placing it in between the bonsai cactus and the Rubik's cube on my desk.

"So, will you be attending? If so, I can confirm our attendance"

"When is it? Will everyone be coming?" I pause for a second and clear my throat. "I mean, who and all do you think would attend it?" I ask her as I lean back in my seat.

"I have no idea, and I'm not even in touch with anyone except you and very recently with Jimin," she sounds as if she has just stuffed her mouth with some food.

"He planned this, didn't he?" My question is answered with a hum from Da-Mi.

Jimin, though quite flirtatious and extremely extroverted, had always been the kind who got along well with everyone in class. I remember him as someone who was always up for gathering groups and talking and laughing over silly topics—something that I always shied away from.

"Knew it," a small chuckle falls from my lips. "But when is it? I have to check if I'm free on that day"

"It's on Saturday, in five days from now. Check today's newspaper for more details," she chews something in an almost obnoxious manner.

"Oh, wow! Okay. I'm free the entire weekend. But I'm still thinking if I should attend it. I'm really in no mood to socialize," I complain, telling her the half-truth as to why I wouldn't want to attend the high school reunion.

Da-Mi stops chewing and clicks her tongue in frustration.

"Come on, Maya! You can't live like a hermit forever. Sometimes you do need to go out and mingle with people, and these aren't even new folks. They're just the people we know already," she sounds so done with me turning down her every offer to socialize.

"That's like the most valid reason not to socialize," I roll my eyes and try to justify, still telling her only part of my reasons to avoid going.

The part she knows is that socializing isn't really my best skill, and I'm always happy to hang around with her—my only friend from school, who actually became a close friend way after we finished school—or just be on my own. Meeting new people at work isn't hard because it would be a crisp and professional interaction, but anything outside work seems to make me tired.

"Please attend it, Maya. You don't even have to stay till the end. Maybe just drop by to say hi to everyone and have dinner and leave. But just attend it," Da-Mi's words evolved from coaxing to commanding, and since I'm someone who picks my battles, I find this topic unworthy of arguing over.

"Alright. I'll drop by for a while," I give my confirmation, and Da-Mi squeals at the other end of the call.

"I'll confirm our attendance then. Thank you sooooo much, Maya," she passes a kiss to me before we end the call.

"This girl! So dramatic!" I shake my head, chuckling softly as I return my phone to the desk and wear my glasses once again.

My life, ever since I graduated from high school, has changed so drastically, and it has also been so many years since we graduated.

But it's funny how just the mention of 'high school' can make the heart to flaunt its super power of resurrecting the precious memories and feelings specific to a particular time in life and centered around a specific person that are kept safe within, making the mind constantly revolve around it.

My thoughts are derailed when my desk phone blares and reminds me about the meeting that starts in ten minutes.

Saving my work, I put my desktop to sleep before I leave my seat to attend the said meeting.

***

Stepping out of the shower, I dry myself and get dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, and head to the living room to watch a movie while letting my hair air-dry.

Loneliness isn't something new to me because I've been living with it for many years now, and I'm at a point in life where I have completely forgotten how it would feel like to have some company at home.

I turn off all the lights in the house and switch on the TV, and head straight to Netflix to pick out a movie to watch. Even though I feel so lonely right now, I still decide to watch an old romance movie with a sad ending—one that I've already watched a few times—because I love to suffer.

The movie starts playing, and I gradually change positions from sitting to sprawling to finally lying down on the couch, hugging a throw pillow to my chest.

My thoughts suddenly fly to the conversation I had with Da-Mi earlier today, and after that, I'm hardly able to focus on the movie.

Turning off the TV, I head upstairs and walk past the guest bedroom on my left to enter the spare bedroom that I'm currently using to store my stuff.

After switching on the lights in the room, I walk over to the decoupaged cardboard box in one corner where I keep all my precious little things and memorabilia from school.

I sit cross-legged on the floor and pull the box closer to me, opening it up thereafter.

There are a handful of small trophies and medals that I won in some cultural events, essay-writing competitions and swimming contests in middle school. They've all lost their sheen, one of the medals is even detached from its withered ribbon, and they all feel so fragile to the touch as well.

Not wanting to shatter whatever is remaining of them, I carefully place them all on the floor and proceed to explore the other contents of the box.

Certificates, a few pamphlets and handmade posters from school, which I don't even know why I'm still keeping safe, along with some of my graded test sheets are all layering the box.

At the bottom of the box, there are three yearbooks from each of my high school years and a large binder in which I have safely kept all the class photographs taken at the end of every school year, starting from grade one to the last year of high school.

As I flip through the pictures in the binder, I laugh seeing my class photograph from grade two that I have ruined by writing down the names of some of the kids right beneath their faces, and the ink has smudged and spread everywhere.

I still remember how my mom and I tried to erase it and made a hole on one kid's face, and how I cried about it for an entire day.

I was so silly!

Glancing through the other pictures, I take a few seconds to see how different I look in each picture and how I had grown throughout my school years.

To be honest, the middle school pictures are an embarrassment that deserves to rot inside this box. Looking at them makes me shudder.

I can't believe I looked like that.

My fingers slow down when they reach the last three pictures taken during our high school years, and this time, I don't look out only for me in the pictures.

My eyes locate him as well—his position in each picture etched deeply in my memory—and as I trace the tip of my finger over his face, a big smile makes its way up my lips.

Would he attend the reunion too? Will he remember me?

I notice how I'm standing so far from him in the picture taken during our year one—the year where he moved to our school. I wasn't even bothered by him that year. My face in the picture is devoid of any expressions, but he is smiling big, and he looks a little out of place with his face that looks almost celebrity-like.

Flipping over the page, I study the year-two picture, and in this one he is standing right behind me, effortlessly towering over me, flashing all his teeth in that unique square grin that he could easily trademark for himself.

This arrangement of standing close to him wasn't planned because even during our year two, I didn't notice him much given that we were a class of almost forty students, and I hardly had any time to spare.

The last picture is the one taken at the end of our final year of high school, and it is so special to me because in this one, I purposely stood closer to him. He being among the tallest boys in class, stood in the last row, and I have put a few tiny heart stickers above his head, making it appear as if the hearts are flying out from his head.

My heart begins beating a little faster when my thoughts slowly drift to him.

Kim Taehyung—the other half of my reason for not wanting to attend the reunion—is smiling big in this photo as well. The intensity of the smile on my face almost matches his, but the charm is definitely so much more in his smile.

Memories of how I sneakily moved past some of the taller girls in class to stand in this particular spot come rushing to my mind, making me laugh alone.

I really wish I was worth being noticed by him.

A sigh leaves my lips as I stare at the photo for a long few seconds, tracing the tip of my finger over and over his face before putting the binder back inside the box.

I pull out the yearbooks and flip through them and look at Taehyung's picture in each book with a smile that refuses to leave my face. In one of the books, I have even written a cheesy poem beneath his picture and labeled him as TaeTae in bright, bold letters.

Maya, you were unbelievable!

Shaking my head, I place the yearbooks back inside the box before replacing the other contents on top of it and returning the box to its place.

I head back to my room with my mind filled to the brim with thoughts about Taehyung and the reunion.

Do I want to attend it? What if he attends it too? I don't really know if I want to meet him.

Come on, Maya. Even if you both attend it, he's still not going to notice you anyway, as always. For all you know, he wouldn't even remember your name or your face or anything at all!!

Part of me wishes to attend the reunion and meet him while the other part of me wishes that I shouldn't have to meet him—ever again.

Not after he ignored all my little gestures and my whole presence like none of it ever existed.

Your thoughts?
🤔

Published on : 04/19/2022