The night before my canoe polo competition started, I could not sleep a wink. And, somehow, Felix happened to be awake. And, somehow, he did not mind accompanying me through the lonely night.

Felix, I must say, is one of the oldest (not in terms of age) friends I have ever had. We go way back—way before we were even brought into this world. Our mothers were schoolmates back in their secondary school days. We grew up in the same neighbourhood and our blocks were just separated by a parking lot.

I would not say that our friendship had an exclusive close bond from the start. For starters, I knew him because he was the son of my mother’s friend. Furthermore, there seem to be an invisible line that separated boys and girls back in those days. Yes, we children mixed around and played together—but not to the extent of having any closer friendship than that.

As irritating as it is, nicknames will always be the torture in every childhood. But how bad can the nickname “Felix the Cat” (a popular cartoon character that I love watching on TV) stick to him? Not to mention that I have an irritating nickname (that I wished everyone in primary school will forget) that derived from my full name and everyone could not stop teasing me about? (One of the painful reasons why I intensely dislike my full name till this day.)

I remember having him over after school whenever his parents are not at home. He remembers watching Barney and Friends together. (I do recall that memory.) He said I was the one who taught him how to eat peanut butter out of the jar, as well as eating Milo powder instead of making a drink of Milo.

When he told me that some time ago, I found myself puzzling over those memories because I sadly, could not recall them.

He also remembers what Charles recalled, too—walking home together after school along with Victor. I remember walks with Victor since I remember his mother accompanying us when we were much younger. But the others… the memory seems fuzzy. Felix said that I would be brisk-walking all the way that I tore ahead of them while they took their time to joke around and exchange news and do whatever boys their age do back then.

We hardly kept in contact after graduation. But I did know that he went to a pretty good school. And later, to a good junior college. Currently, he is in SMU, a university that I personally deem as good (which means, to me, really smart people are accepted there).

So far, he is the only person who has watched at least a match that I have played in every single competition that I took part in. I just hope he continues supporting me from the stands. But, all in all, I appreciate that he bothers to come down to support my team. And for that, I am deeply grateful.

Funny how after a long absence, I find his company and conversation somewhat comforting in my current state of confusion and loss of direction in life.

—
We found scraps (and parts) of toys on this stone bench below his flat on Sunday night after I got him in the middle of his mugging session as I did not feel like heading home after a long day of competition. We amused ourselves and fixed up a Transformer figurine and the cardboard toy car that can be seen above. For you, Felix. And for memories. 🙂