"Ha?" I replied.
"Ate, next time na!" He held out the banana cue tray and looked at me with his big eyes. I looked at him carefully – no, he wasn’t the boy I had previously bought banana cue from. This was definitely the first time I was seeing him. "Hindi naman ako ‘yun e," I told him.
"Ate, ikaw ’yun! Sabi n‘yo pa nga, next time na lang e!" he insisted, still holding the tray under my nose. Apparently, he wasn’t letting this next time go. I studied his face again and was pretty sure that he wasn’t the first boy who sold me banana cue. I was sure because the first boy was the one who started the crusade to make it to the next time. I can still recall how it happened.
I had been hurrying to have some handouts photocopied the first time he came up to me to sell his banana cue. Now, I don’t really like bananas, much less banana cue, but I hardly think that he would care if I told him that. So, I simply told him, "Next time na lang," hoping he’d get the point. Surprisingly, he just nodded in assent and walked away. Usually, the boys are incredibly persistent, telling you that they only need to sell four more to go home or that they need their allowance for the following day. I didn’t read too much into it though, and after a couple of days, he caught up with me again – he had come to sell me a banana cue. It was next time. "Ate, sabi n’yo next time!" he reminded me, making me laugh. This was the first time I’ve ever heard one of the banana cue sellers say anything like that, and I was pretty impressed because 1) he had remembered what I had said and 2) he had known that I was the person to who said it. Because I appreciated his efforts, I bought a stick from him. I did not, however, appreciate having to eat banana. After eating the banana cue, I was still a non-banana person.
I saw him again the next day, and as I passed by he jogged beside me, jutting out the tray. "Ate, ate! Sabi n‘yo next time."
"Next time?" I said, laughing and taken by surprise. "Ikaw ha! Kakabili ko lang sa iyo kahapon!" He looked sheepish and embarrassed about getting caught. If he thought I wouldn’t remember him, he was mistaken. He had remembered my face, and I could remember his, too.
That’s why I was sure today’s Mr. Next Time wasn’t the original. Since his successful marketing technique worked on me, it has apparently become the favorite tag line of his friends. Saying "next time" seems to work better than "banana cue ko ‘to" (it must be hard to hold the tray when you have to slap your thighs and chest) or "love ko banana cue." The campaign yesterday was futile, though, as I had no change on me. Today I had prepared P10 in my pocket in case he would show, and sure enough, as I was walking from school, there he was at the corner. He hurried to me, waving his tray in my face again. "Ate, ate –" he began.
"Ano, next time?" I teased, pulling out my P10. Now I’m stuck with the stigma of being the "next time" girl and all those banana cues I’m going to have to take home and beg someone else to eat to keep them from going to waste. (Well, I’m not going to eat them!) I never realized that saying "next time" to one boy would be the pebble that incited other boys to ripple farther, equipped with their arranged barrage of reminders.
The whole banana cue fiasco reminded me a lot of other words that people easily let go, without really thinking of what they mean. "I’ll pay you back." "No, you’re not fat." "Thanks be to God." "Take care." "Sorry." When you talk to other people, do you always mean what you say? Do you go beyond simply talking and truly say something? You could be the most eloquent and articulate person in the world, but if you’re just spewing out words without really considering them, then it’s just as bad as wrong grammar – maybe even worse.
Most people love talking. We have developed so many ways of keeping in touch, from phones (landline or cellular) to mail (snail mail or e-mail) to so much more. There’s always the beauty of talking to someone face to face, of sitting down with someone over a warm cup of coffee and unraveling all the knots on your mind, of talking until the wee hours of the morning without even realizing it. Especially during these fast-paced times, having a conversation is a pleasure, a luxury, a cheap thrill, even a remedy.
But communication isn’t purely about speaking. There’s always someone else involved in a conversation, someone else who’s listening. If we really think about it, that someone is at the more important end of the conversation. It’s always two-way. Those who hear you will think about what you said and remember it. What’s the point of saying something if there’s no one listening?
In the same way, what’s the point of listening if there’s no one saying anything? We’re given the freedom to express whatever we want, but instead of digging deep down inside ourselves for something genuine, we hide behind false promises and clichés. There are times when we just mess around with the things we say. We make up excuses, say things to get them over with, tell white lies, lavishly sweet-talk others, or say things out of habit. They can mean practically nothing to us but mean the world to the one listening to you. We owe it to the people we talk to be honest and true.
Everybody knows the saying "If you have nothing good to say, don’t say anything." However, this doesn’t mean you have to cover up for it with a shower of excuses. As it turns out, none of these excuses are good either. Let’s change our notion of having something to say – if you have nothing true to say, don’t say anything. Words are powerful, yes, and the strongest set that you can use will always be your own. Let’s celebrate the art of conversation by actually having them, expressive and sincere conversations… perhaps over a couple of banana cues.