The Missing Ingredient

As Charissa's car sped away, I looked forlornly at the window as if a part of me was snatched from my heart. It was never easy to let go since she was one of my most enthusiastic supporters.

But living with a surrogate family offered me a renewed lease on life. With lunch about to serve, I formally introduced myself to Francesca's parents.

Francis and Cheska were not as wealthy as my own parents. But they lived a simple and humble life, essential characteristics that were passed on to their lovely daughter.

Francis is a 44-year-old businessman who owns a small gasoline station several miles from home. Cheska, on the other hand, is a 44-year-old seamstress at a nearby tailoring shop.

They were both born on March 4, which was also the same day Cheska gave birth to Francesca. She was appropriately named in honor of her parents.

Francesca's only sibling is Fritz, a 12-year-old seventh-grade student. They were born eight years apart.

Unfortunately, Fritz was not around for the meal as he is attending school that day. Nevertheless, it was fulfilling to make myself recognized in front of Francesca's parents.

Sunday afternoon, Michelle and her team were about to play their fourth game of the season. But as I followed the news on my laptop, something was not right.

Reports of bickering and in-fighting infiltrated the locker room. Players turned against each other and pushed themselves to oblivion.

Kyla even received a black eye from the fist of her own teammate. Bones were smashed, and faces became a crimson mess.

By the time the chaos ended, three players were kicked out of the school. The team was reduced to 12 ladies.

It only got worse for Michelle and her squad. Hours before the game, their coach abruptly resigned because of burnout.

Throughout the day, I willingly kept my social media feeds open and followed the result intently. By the end of the game, Michelle's team lost by 30 points, their third defeat in a row.

Later that night, I received a phone call from Karina. Deafening sounds of sniffing came out of the speaker, implying she was crying.

Karina: "Christine, I need your help. My daughter completely lost it. She's been screaming and dismantling some of my stuff for hours now."

Christine: "I feel disheartened about that Karina. But my mood has not changed yet. I don't feel prepared to confront her again."

Karina: "But Christine,"

Christine: "I'm sorry Karina. You must figure it out yourself. I can't help Michelle right now. Not when our bruised hearts were unaligned at this point."

After hanging up the phone, I sat down sobbing by myself. The thought of supporting Michelle at her lowest point had not crossed my mind.

Just then, I heard some footsteps squeaking outside. The door opened and my ears overheard a familiar voice.

"Christine, why are you crying?"

Francesca had just arrived, and she immediately held my right hand. Seconds later, Francesca helped me stand up and we quickly sat by the soft bed.

"It was Michelle," I revealed. "She just went berserk back home."

"What about her?" Francesca asked.

"Well, Michelle's team lost again and they literally went to war during practice," I explained further. "Their coach even resigned."

"That was awful to hear," Francesca anxiously commented. "Perhaps your absence must have affected their confidence."

"But remember that Michelle betrayed me for letting myself get fooled by Jenny," I replied. "It won't be easy to mend fences."

Even with the airconditioner on, sweat continued to pour from my forehead. I had never felt this much stress and despair since we took the final examinations.

The next morning, Francesca and I returned to school for the tuition payment. Second term was about to start in a week and we did not waste time booking our slots.

But as Francesca and I walked to the bench, a teary-eyed Michelle suddenly appeared.

"Christine, it's just between you and me," she tearfully announced. "We must talk one-on-one."

Michelle forcibly pulled my arm aside and entered an empty classroom, leaving Francesca behind. Just as the door opened, she promptly knelt in front of me.

"Christine, I need you back," Michelle said bitterly. "The team is an emotional wreck without you."

Michelle bowed her head and desperately tried to embrace both of my legs. However, I immediately backed off.

"Michelle, you know how painful and infuriating it was to feel betrayed," I yelled back as she desperately crawled along. "You broke my heart. Our friendship used to be very formidable. Now it's cast aside."

"But Christine, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Michelle reasoned out. "It was out of character. My reaction wasn't so rational. I mistreated you like a young child, that's all."

"But you broke my heart," I scathingly replied towards Michelle. "And I will not forgive you for it."

Michelle continued to plead for forgiveness but to no avail. I then strongly banged the door shut and left her writhing in agony.

Back at the bench, Francesca consoled me for what happened earlier. It was clear my heart was still unprepared to renew ties with Michelle, not after the cruel event that changed our personal lives.

Wednesday afternoon, Michelle and her team lost their fourth consecutive game, this time by 26 points. With only one win in five matches, their chances of reaching the playoffs could be in jeopardy.

Later that night, I received a phone call from an unknown source. A familiar yet sorrowful voice then permeated through my ears.

"Christine, please come back to me," Michelle tearfully said through the speaker. "I need you so badly right now."

I quickly hung up the phone without hesitation and laid down. While looking uneasily at the white ceiling of Francesca's bedroom, my eyes started tearing up.

The temptation of reuniting with Michelle had once again crossed my mind. But at this point, any reconciliation would have to happen at the right place and the exact time.

Another embarrassing 20-point defeat put Michelle's team down to a 1-5 record and last on the standings. The morale was at an all-time low and negative emotion was palpable.

It is all a question of when, where and how. But the time to do so would have to wait.