Chapter One

       

   Lights from cameras flickered like stars on a moonless night, like supernovas gone wild. Adam squinted his eyes a little from all the lights flashing in front of him that’s faster than a wink. Is this even necessary? He wondered to himself.

   Yes, it was necessary, if it wasn’t he wouldn’t be able to sell his paintings. His beloved works of art. He was sitting in front of a whole audience of people representing the press who are hopelessly hunched up in their seats, recklessly scribbling down notes in their notepads, adjusting their camera lenses, and clearing their throats from time to time. He looked at them with his own restlessness. 

  “Mr. Ocampo,” a reporter asked. “What do you feel about your paintings being sold? You have said during your previous interviews that these new sets of paintings that were auctioned recently were like the actual pieces of your heart being shared with the world. Do you feel sad about parting with it?”

 “I do feel a bit sad about parting with it, but knowing that the people who bought them are individuals who treasure my work, I also find it comforting because I know they will be placed in a good home.” He replied. 

  A female reporter raised her hand. Adam noticed and gestured for her to be allowed to ask. “The total paintings that were auctioned yesterday were six but the expected total of it was seven. What happened to the other painting?”

  That painting. He thought. A few seconds passed before he finally answered. “It was a painting that I never thought I could part with.” Well said. He thought again. 

  “During the auction,” the same reporter continued in response to his answer. “It was there and the people were already bidding for it. Why risk losing a huge amount of profit for a single painting; and why decline for it to be sold at the last minute?” 

  Adam smiled a little and he responded, “Let’s just say that there are things that are worth keeping and much more valuable than money.” He just couldn’t share everything else with the world, not with this bunch of people who think that they could get everything they wanted to know. They’re not worth it. “I think that’s all for this afternoon.” He concluded. He stood up from the platform where he was sitting and gradually pulled himself out from the crowd. The camera clicks and flashes went louder and the press seemed to make noises like a circus. He just had enough of it. 

   “Why leave so soon? It was barely thirty minutes out there.” Amara, his art agent, kept pace with him on the way out. “You might start getting a bad impression from the press if you continue doing that sort of thing.” 

   “Look, I just don’t feel like talking about The Sonnet in front of everybody else, okay? You know how I feel when they people try to pry into something deeper like that painting.” 

   Amara sighed as she stopped following him towards his car. “Okay, I get it. There’s still that part of you from a little over two decades ago that still controls your personality. I have to back off.”

  Adam paused from opening his car door. “Look, I’m sorry Amara. At least we did a good job with the other paintings, right? You had your profits, I had my living. Just let me slip quietly with this one painting, okay?”

   “Okay. Just make sure that you continue making your paintings and I’ll be fine with it. And next time, please don’t repeat the sudden exit that you did in front of the press today.” 

   “Okay.”

  Amara then added after a short pause. “By the way, what do you plan to do with that painting?”

   He hesitated for a bit, thinking of what to say next. I haven’t thought of that. He said to himself. “Just have it displayed at my favorite spot in the gallery so that I can always see it.”

   “Sure. I’ll have it arranged as soon as I can today.” Amara said as she grabbed her phone to call the people from the gallery. 

   “Thanks.” Adam then slid inside his car. 

   The breeze of the summer afternoon comforted Adam as he drove through the freeway. He was inhaling the scent of it all again. The memories, the old yet all too familiar places where he once stepped on a daily basis--remnants of echoes of a time long past. He’s back to where he has been, twenty-one years ago. The painting was the reason why he felt compelled to go back to the city. He longed to find something—or someone—there. Will I ever find what I am looking for? He thought to himself. The red traffic light seemed to give him time to think this thoroughly. It’s blinking at himself intently, whispering. Are you sure you want to do this? 

   This is my only chance. He encouraged himself. I won’t back down now. Then as anticipated, his car moved forward as the green light ushered him to do so. 

His rented car transitioned his world of fame and glory into his former, confused life. He felt like he was the main character in that time travel movie back in the eighties. He was thinking, Am I really in this old city? Maybe I’m just time traveling using this car. He shook off the idea from his mind. Admittedly, he knew he sounded ridiculous with his whims. 

  The streets transitioned into a more familiar scene. His heart raced with both excitement and nervousness. Many years ago, whenever he set foot on those streets, people never cared about him. He was even considered as the worst kind of person to be with. But now, he’s afraid of how people would look at him as a changed man. He must be afraid, in a good way, because he always wanted to make sure that his old self died many years ago. He never wanted to come back to that kind of person ever again. In memory, the past was an embodiment of a person who was a fleeting shadow, a culmination of bad habits, senseless decisions, and unresolved pain.  

  The way to Silverleaf University only took a quarter of an hour’s drive from the place where he had his press conference for the day. It was a quarter of an hour’s worth of a swirl of imagery from the bustling metropolitan scene into a more quiet, quaint, Renaissance-like scenery. After a few more stops and turns, the voices of the past called louder. There it is. He said in his mind. It became much more familiar as he drove further to reach the faint outline of the famous signboard of his old university. Driving closer to the security gate, he was greeted warmly by the security guard standing sentinel at the entrance. “Welcome back, Mr. Ocampo.” 

  He returned the security guard’s greetings with a smile. How did he know that I had just come back? He wondered to himself. Even though he had been famous for quite some time now, he still couldn’t believe that he was that well-known. Especially within his old campus.

  He drove further down the winding road of his former campus, which meant a few more minutes before he reached his final destination. The warm tones of autumn welcomed him with such a warmth he never thought he could feel again. Like a waltz that consisted of yellow, orange, red, purple, and brown, he then thought of painting another masterpiece later on that reminded him of such a wonder. Finally, he whispered. Hello, Silverleaf University. I’m back.

 

  The sights and smells of the campus were still too familiar to him. Students were walking here and there, some chatting with a group of friends while others carry stacks of books, hurrying to their next class. The same colors of the leaves falling from trees that he used to ignore years ago gave him the nostalgic feel all the more.   He let out a deep sigh as he was looking for a good parking spot just right across the administrative office. He turned the ignition keys downward and stayed in his seat for a few seconds as his car hummed into a stop, wondering what would happen next if he came out of his car. After mustering enough courage to step on the centuries-old pavement, he finally stepped out and looked around the campus that became a part of his life for four years. He could still not believe that time flew by so quickly. Adam continued to look around and then decided to walk up towards the administration building’s main entrance. 

The secretary behind the desk just outside the University President’s office looked up from her paperwork as he approached her. “Good day, how may I help you?”

“I have an appointment with Dr. Porter in a few minutes,” he responded as he looked at his watch to make sure of the time. Then, the secretary’s eyes indicated recognition of who she was speaking to. “Oh, my apologies, Mr. Ocampo. Yes, you are expected by Dr. Porter at this very minute. Welcome back to the university.” She then motioned to her phone and pressed a few buttons before saying, “Dr. Porter, Mr. Adam Ocampo is here.” After a few seconds, she added. “Of course. I’ll send him in.” She looked up again and said, “He’s waiting for you inside. You may enter his office now.”

“Thank you.” He nodded in appreciation to her and proceeded to the office past the secretary’s desk. As he entered, the smell of brewed coffee and old books invited him further inside.  

  The large swivel chair made of black leather turned from the window and a familiar face smiled at him in cordial greeting. “Adam. Welcome back!” The man on the chair stood up and reached out his right hand to meet his. Years ago, he used to come here in the same office not to be greeted, but to be reminded of the rules and regulations that he has violated so many times every school day. 

  Adam was about to extend his hand but the old man changed his mind in meeting it with his and instead returned it with a cordial embrace. Adam smiled a little for the kind gesture.

  “It’s good to see you again, sir.” 

  “Oh, enough of the ‘sir’. You’re way ahead of me in terms of achievements and recognition now. Just call me by my first name from now on.” 

“O-okay.” Adam did not know how to answer back. But he appreciated the man’s way of expressing his friendship toward him. 

  “So, what do you think of the campus? Feels good to be back?” Dr. Gregory Porter, the university president, asked. Adam could not believe that Greg is too kind to him now, because as far as he could remember during his college days, he wasn’t his best friend. 

  Adam remembered Mr. Greg’s favorite line for him back in college. 

  “So, what’s next for the infamous Adam Ocampo?” A younger Porter asked the second time with a serious expression, letting out a deep sigh. “You know you can’t smoke within campus grounds. That’s the fifth time the security personnel reported you to me.” A younger Adam just sat across Porter’s desk and looked at him with a smirk. He never really cared at all if he gets suspended--expelled even. 

  “You know what,” Porter added. “I know that you’re just waiting for me to suspend you or kick you out. I’m not like that. I know you’re excelling academically when you put your mind to it. You even have your academic scholarship right now, which I am not letting you put to waste. So, I’m giving you another chance. Just stop doing whatever nonsense you are doing and focus on what you are here for.” 

  What am I here for, really? The young Adam wondered to himself as he continued to look at the university president while he let on with his moral speeches. 

   Adam’s mind returned to the present, with the same old Porter now smiling back at him, waiting for him to answer his question. 

   “Yeah. It does feel good to be back.” He replied, trying to convince himself that what he said was true. 

  “That’s good to hear.” The old man said. “Now, let’s get down to the main reason why you’re here. The program will start exactly at three in the afternoon. So I would like to remind you that you have to be here as early as an hour ahead so that we could explain to you the things that you need to do when it comes to the program flow. The crowd might be bigger than last year since you are the highlight of the entire event. And of course, given that you are well-known for your craft, the students will most likely want to have an autograph session and photo ops with you.”

  “That seems a lot of work,” Adam chuckled a little. “Then tonight I have to practice my smile.” 

  Porter chuckled as well. “Yes, you do have to. And I hope you get all the more excited because a lot of your batch mates will be attending as well. So there will be an alumni dinner for you all after the program.” 

  Adam paused a little with the thought. She might be there.