Artemis Lets Go

By Justine Camacho-Tajonera

Artemis “Em" Torillo still isn’t over Simon de Guia. It only takes one phone call to plunge her back in the past: her bittersweet college days. Will she finally make it out of the long tunnel of getting over him? Or will she slip back into his arms against her better judgment? Go on the journey with her and find out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justine Camacho-Tajonera
• Release date: Jun 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311646453

Justine Camacho-Tajonera

Justine Camacho-Tajonera is a poet and writer by vocation and a marketer and digital space explorer by profession.

Book preview

Cover Page

Written and Published by Justine Camacho-Tajonera

Copyright 2014 Justine Camacho-Tajonera

ISBN: 9781311646453 

Smashword Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Dedication Page

For Vier, Badger and Clea

The Phone Call

It was so like me to get into a situation like this. I pressed the plunger one more time. I told myself that I just wanted to hear his voice again. Just that. So I dialed the number of the ad agency he was working for and I waited. 

Hello, Tuazon Communications. It was a male voice, but not his, sounding a little bit irritated because it was my second call. I took a deep breath. 

Hi. Is Simon around?

Yeah. Really quick, really lightning quick. I couldn’t believe he was going to pass the phone on. My heart was hammering in my chest. What could I possibly say after all this time? Words failed me. I was running several opening statements in my mind when I heard his voice. 

Hello.

My eyes started to tear up. It was so long since I last heard his voice. 

Hi, Simon.

Who’s this? Of course that hurt. He didn’t recognize my voice anymore. 

It’s Em, I said. It was almost a whisper because it hurt so much to hear his voice again. 

Hey, Em! Wow. It’s been a while, he said, casually. How could this phone call be so casual to him? Three years later and all he could say was ‘It’s been a while?’

Yes, it has.

What’s up? he said. Again, very excruciatingly casual. I wanted to die. To give up and just crawl under my desk. 

Well… I got hold of your number from Kara. Kara was a mutual friend of ours. 

Uh-huh, he said, as if it were irrelevant. 

Anyway, I just wanted to call to say hi. To say ‘hi’ and to ask what happened. How did three years pass without him looking for me, finding out how I was?

Well, I’m fine, he said. He sounded like three years hadn’t passed and we were just having a laid-back conversation. 

How’s your Dad? he asked. I couldn’t believe he was asking about my Dad. What about me? Didn’t he care how I was?

He’s fine. He’s still into golf. He wants to retire soon. I couldn’t believe I was chitchatting about my Dad. 

Well, say hi to him for me, he said. 

Simon… I said. I liked saying his name. I was dying to say something witty but nothing would come out of me anymore. My breath caught. I wanted to say that I missed him, that I wished he would make this easier on me, that he would forgive me for whatever I had done. 

What is it, Em? I thought I heard some concern in his voice, some of the familiar protectiveness that I missed so much. 

Simon, I’d like to talk to you if you aren’t busy. Just some things I wanted to discuss. Maybe I wanted some sort of closure. But no. I knew what I wanted. I wanted him to care for me again. That was the truth of it, no matter what I said to myself at the start of the call. But I couldn’t go ahead and blurt all these things to him. 

Sure, he said. I wanted to die because he was leaving the details, the next steps to me. Was this punishment? I tried to think quickly about what would be convenient to him. 

How about after-lunch coffee at Greenbelt? I asked

Sure, he said. Again, his voice was unreadable. 

Starbucks.

Okay.

It was embarrassing for me to hear his one-word replies. As if he didn’t care at all and everything was up to me. 

Tomorrow. I said, to seal the deal. 

Tomorrow then.

When I hung up the phone I was shaking. I didn’t know what to do next. And the past swallowed me up. 

The Orientation

I think it started as early as my first week into college. We were having freshman orientation and we were getting acquainted with our tree-lined campus. I was with my course block mates and my freshman English class. The guys who were touring us were cute, two Junior boys who looked alike and goofed around a lot. My future classmates seemed friendly. 

It was our final day and we were told that we were having an Org Fair, one day just to orient ourselves with the organizations at our college. My Dad was encouraging me to sign up with a business org. I had other ideas, like signing up for the college paper. We were lined up, listening to impromptu talks and picking up brochures. Then I saw something that caught my eye. It was a stack of books with brown Kraft paper covers. The artwork on the cover was stunning, a black and white charcoal sketch of a man rowing a raft. The girl who was handing them out smiled at me.

It’s free? I asked the girl handing them out.

It’s absolutely free. For the students, of course. But we have limited copies. This is the college literary journal, La Luz. 

 I felt like it was destiny. I didn’t realize until then that I knew what I wanted after all. I wanted to immediately sit down somewhere and pore over the book. I turned it around in my hands. Cover to cover of poetry, short stories, and artwork. I didn’t realize that the college published these things. I was expecting a paper or a magazine. But a book was something different.  

I noticed that there was one writer with two poems, a short story and a couple of drawings to his name. I realized that he also drew the cover of the book. His name was Simon de Guia. I was intrigued. I thought it would be great to meet him if I got the chance. I liked the way he wrote. His stories were insightful, his poems were beautiful and his drawings were unique. I turned over the brochure that I got from the La Luz booth and encircled the interview dates for the editorial staff. 

If I met someone like Simon de Guia, what would he see?  I was on the tallish side. My hair could be better. It was chin-length, just-shampooed but no frills. My outfit could have been much better: jeans and a collared blue shirt, leather flats. I wasn’t fat. I wasn’t skinny either. I had some puson but nothing that a decent pair of jeans couldn’t hide. My eyes were almond shaped and I think my cheekbones were considered high. Overall, I didn’t look too bad. But having spent all my prior years in a sheltered all-girls’ Catholic school and having a strict Dad didn’t give me much practice in terms of feminine attractiveness. What would he see? Well, there was only one way to find out: I’d have to meet him first. 

La Luz

Simon had a reputation but I hadn’t known about it until the day of my interview with La Luz. There I was, a greenhorn freshman waiting for my turn outside Rallos Room. 

Hey, what are you trying out for? Mel asked. We were both seated on the bench outside the room. Mel was my English classmate: straight-backed, long, silky hair and a confident, radiant smile. I envied the way she carried her short skirt and fitted top. 

"Um, I’m not sure. Maybe the English editorial staff or the