Black Betty

Whoa, black betty (bam-ba-lam)!
She's always ready (bam-ba-lam)!
She's so rock steady (bam-ba-lam)!
- Spiderbait, "Black Betty"

"We told you, remember, Camille? That you were going to play bass for us tonight? Spiderbait?"

"Fuck! I don't remember! I can't! I haven't learned it!"

"You'll just have to play your best because everyone's expecting you to play."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I love Spiderbait. I won't do them justice."

"People don't know the song we're going to play. Just act really thrashy. Punk style, yeah?"

"Fuck. Death by Punk."

"Fuck this, fuck that. Why do keep saying that word?"

"Oh, 'fuck' is more than a word. It's my way of life." And suddenly I feel, fuck them, I will not only play "Black Betty" but the whole fucking Tonight Alright album and dedicate "Fucken Awesome" to myself. Is that done? Can rock stars dedicate songs to themselves? Henceforth, let it be said that I am the only rock star to dedicate songs to herself.

A miracle happens on stage. I've learned "Black Betty" and I'm thrashing and singing along to "bam-ba-lam." And my band mates were right -- no one notices if I've made up some parts of the song because I've forgotten the real notes. I feel like I am Black Betty. It's so glorious.

Death by Trance

What can I say? These massives are really massive.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes," I say, even though I mean "no" because I feel guilty about him wasting his $40 on a silly girl who can't appreciate a rave party. I can't help but make a biting remark, "I just hope your dancing skills have improved."

Massive chandeliers that give off different colors of light. Massive ferris wheels that spin you around to heighten your high. Massive bars. Massive stages. Massive stars.

Yes, because it's an outdoor rave party in the middle of San Francisco. Even though it's outdoors, it seems indoors because how else will those chandeliers hang. Unless... Am I drugged?

"Cams, keep up! I nearly lost you!"

"Fuck, I can't go on anymore. Death by Trance!"

"Trance? What are you talking about? This is my room."

I look around and see that he's right. We're in his room in his house in South Bay. I'm wearing my St Scho uniform. He's wearing his La Salle uniform. We're 10 years wiser but 10 years younger. We are before and after at the same time.

So I know because I remember. We've been fighting on the streets of South Bay. Me sitting on the sidewalk. Him giving a deranged soliloquy, pacing back and forth. Me thinking, "How can I help you if you push me away? Fuck you, say it! Tell me what I've already guessed! How dare you think that I don't know! How dare you treat me like a child!" And I remember him sitting beside me to cry which makes me cry too and then me thinking, "Maybe all we needed was a good cry."

"Just love me?"

"I do. You don't have to ask."

Did it really happen that way? Yes, yes, it did.

"Call Jill's house. They're waiting for me to come back. They might be worried." I say the exact words I said 10 years ago.

He steps out, exactly like he did ten years ago.

And I see everything with the voyeurism and hindsight of 10 years of wisdom and memory. I see him dial Jill's number and wait for her to pick up. I see Jill pick up the phone. I see him say, "She's with me. She's okay." I see Jill turn to the others - Nins, Chinx, TL - and say, "She's with him. She's okay." I see them give a collective sigh of relief. I see them lock the door that they were keeping unlocked for me. I see them turn off the lights.

And when he steps back into the room, exactly like he did ten years ago, I am asleep.

And it's with innocence he puts his arm around me and watches me sleep.

And it's with wisdom that I hurt because I know that this gesture of possession will be repeated, with different boys in different rooms, but no other gesture of love and possession will ever be as sweet and innocent as this first time.

Just Love Me

Maybe it helps you be a better friend if you've never been on Friendster.

Isn't this funny, my bad luck in elevators has transliterated to planes. I managed to ride the wrong one because here I am in China with no luggage, no passport, no currency. This is my ultimate Bridget Jones Moment.

But the beaches are beautiful. Maybe I can just pretend this is Boracay. Oh, forget it. There are too many Chinese. I wonder how you say, "Where can I get a Brazilian wax?" in Chinese.

I don't even have a bathing suit.

This man. This man transforms into anyone I want him to be. It's almost scary. We walk to his room which is just a shack ten other people share with him but they all complicitly step out to go to the beach when we enter. We look at each other, this anyman man, and giggle because really, we have nothing lascivious in mind. No, I lie. Lascivious is all I have in mind.

"Who do I transform you to now?"

We kiss.

"Who are you?"

I can't see. I try to figure out who he is, from the taste of his saliva, from the pressure of his lips, from the way he bites.

"Tell me who you are."

"Don't you recognize me? From Friendster?" He pulls me closer.

"I quit Friendster."

"Yes but you didn't quit me, did you?" He tugs at my hair. "You didn't, did you?"

"If I don't know who you are how will I know if I should love you or hate you?"

"Just love me," he says just as I take him inside me.

Suddenly I know who he is.

Messages

Oh, please, not the St Scho uniform again.

I sit at the back of the classroom and start messaging people in furious, desperate manner as being in classroom wearing a uniform makes me feel helpless and cut off from the world. I look at my phone. Oh my god. So many messages. I was so sure I answered these messages already! Remember sinking feeling of being in Ambergris and opening email to see 50 unread in inbox, all waiting for reply.

"Sunsh, you'll never believe it but am stuck, once again, in St Pain. Please rescue. Don't want to miss your birthday."

"Pao, I might be stuck here for some time. Please take care of Forest."

"Mama, test results on top of dining table. Please take to Dr. Lumibao. Particularly interested in reason am bruising."

"Kit, when is fucking deadline again?"

"Ricci, count me in. Text directions."

"Naj, I need a lawyer."

I know the rest of the students look at me suspiciously as cell phones are like, banned, and people who message in the middle of the school day are serious vigilantes, likened to the NPA. They're so young and gullible. I feel so smug. How can they not see that I am not one of them?

I keep sending messages until my phone's screen becomes blurry, until the keypad is almost destroyed but my unread messages keep growing exponentially, until my messages become more and more desperate.

New message. More? It's from Moe. "Waiting for you. Won't leave without you but hurry. Rest of them went ahead."

I'm so confused I can't even begin to reply.

"Do you think you can rescue --- " Clear message.

"I don't think I can --- " Clear message.

"I'm stuck in ---" Clear message.

"Sorry but --- " Clear message.

"Sorry for the delay. All very weird. Wait. Will be there shortly." Send.

Acting

Driving car. Drunk with Naj. Forgotten how to drive non-automatic car. Feet do not want to cooperate, stick feels heavy. Goodness I must concentrate because we have to rush back to St Scho to star in a school play. It dawns on me, we don't have to attend this thing, we're not students anymore, but the thought vanishes and I feel compelled to oblige.

Backstage. Wearing Queen costume. I don't even know my lines. Director says just go and pretend you know what you're doing. What? What does that mean? What does she mean by pretend?

Onstage. Sitting pretty like real Queen Camille I. Everyone else knows their lines. Never mind. Walk a little, fan myself a little. I guess I should just go ahead with normal stage business. Even Mama came to watch me, how funny!

Curtain call. What's going on? Why is the audience coming on stage? Why are they all bowing to me?

I turn Naj, "Are they bowing to me because I'm Queen Camille I?"

"No, fool. They're bowing because they've been performing for you! They were acting like an audience. Gets?"

"That's hilarious! What an original idea! I guess I should clap then! Clap with me Naj! Not like that, fool! With one hand steady and the other's fingers tapping the steady palm --- like a lady, like we were taught in school!"

Superior Hostess

Your emergency's about to end.
Earlier this evening on your bed.
- Possum Dixon, "Emergency"

Chapter 1

Slumber party! The whole house to myself and my guests! It's a dream come true!

At first I was concerned about the condition of the house because it's been empty for so long but everything is in tip-top shape. Excellent.

I get to keep my old blue room, of course. The guests get to pick from the other rooms.

Sunshine takes Cheng's room. Good choice, Sunsh. Big airy room with two views - one of the courtyard.

My UP friends (Kit, Kath, Abi, LaVerne) take Sockie's room since there are more of them and that room has more beds.

Where to put my barkada? Oh, the library! That has its own bathroom too! Everything is fine. Lalalala.

Moe gets the upstairs master's bedroom. The master's bedroom! That room has two views as well! Wait a minute! Oh, okay, whatever. At least he gets his own bathroom and doesn't have to share with the girls.

More people are coming! Wee! Will just open up more rooms.

Feeling very much like superior type of hostess. People will say, "That Camille throws the best slumber parties!" Heehee.

"Hey! Come in! So glad you could come!" Beso, beso. Move on to next guest. "Hey... Tina?"

Blink, blink. Now how did she happen to be invited?

"Umm. Moe invited me. Can I stay?"

It only takes me a second of hesitation to earn a lifetime of guilt for being inhospitable and I fall over myself trying to make up for it.

"Yes. Yes! Come in! Certainly!" Weirdly enough I don't want to hurt her feelings. Her feelings!

It doesn't seem enough of an act of contrition so I say, "Look, you get the best room in the house!"

And before I can stop myself I've led her to the downstairs master bedroom. Auntie Nieves' room! The one with the best two views. The one with high ceilings! The one beside the bush of rosal whose flowers make the room so fragrant. The one with the walk in closet! I look at Tina's clothes and think she doesn't deserve a walk in closet and for a second want to tell her, "Don't go in there! Don't go in that room! It's my favorite!" But I am a superior hostess and god damn me if I am rude to my guests.

I settle her in and sit outside her room. I'm so envious. Am I selfish? Begrudging her a short stay in my favorite room? It's just that she's so lukcy. She's so lucky. This master bedroom comes with a master suite. It has a little common room and an extra room. It comes with so many perks! Sigh. Lucky, lucky Tina.

And hello?!? Who is this woman sitting in the extra room in the master suite? I swear next time must hire bouncer.

I inhale and do recite my mantra in my head. "Superior hostess. Superior hostess. Superior hostess."

Then Tina pops out. "Camille? I forgot to tell you. I brought my Mother. Ma, meet Camille, our gracious, superior hostess."

Chapter 2

Stupid fuck! Gracious, superior hostess indeed!

Must find Moe. What's this? Mothers? What kind of slumber party is this? Will never forgive him. Never can ever! Why am I mad at him? Why? Because I cannot get mad at Tina, that's why! Because I cannot get mad at the old lady who is her mother, that's why! This one is on him! Damn him!

Where are my cigarettes?

I confront him in the upstairs master bedroom and it hits me that him and Tina have one master bedroom each and that just makes me laugh and cry at the same time.

"I cannot believe it! You brought her and she brought her mother! You didn't even bother to ask me! This is my house!"

"Her mother? Has she come? Where is she?"

"Oh, don't worry. I settled her in. She and Tina are staying in the master suite with Tina in the master bedroom! How did it happen that you and Tina get the best rooms!"

"Fine. Take this room! Tina and I will share. She'll share with me, generous, sweet, perfect girl that she is."

Ouch. "GO AHEAD TRAITOR!" Ang sakit talaga!

"Who are you calling a traitor? You're an infidel! Evil Cam-evil! What made you think I could ever take you seriously? You're a bad person and a terrible hostess!"

"Ohhhh, fuck it! Fuck you! Fuck the world! I am a superior hostess and will continue being a superior hostess and attend to my other guests but we're not done here!"

"Oh, yes we are! We were done long ago!"

Chapter 3

Dinner. Tired. Now how can it be that I can't find a seat in my own house?

Ah, there, Moe. Never mind if we parted in a sour, bruttish fashion. Must make up now and share a table.

But as I'm making my way, he spots me and as if to not make me come any closer, he stands up hastily and prepares to give a speech and for a while I smile thinking he will repeat his welcome-to-MCI speech just to make me laugh but he announces his engagement to Tina and I see that they've been sitting beside each other all this time. Engagement! That's why she brought her mother! Fuck me, why didn't I see this coming?

Everyone stands up to clap and cheer and I'm standing there holding my plate, holding my breath, holding my tears.

"Superior hostess. Superior hostess. Superior hostess." No, it's no good. It's not working.

I start to cry. Never mind. No one is looking at me anyway.

Hay, Moe. You do what you have to do.

Good bye guests. Good bye my room with my postcards on the walls and my dolls on shelves. Good bye house. I thought this time I could keep you.

No one notices me put my plate down on the nearest table, leave the room, walk out of my own house and disappear.

No Point

We're being bombed. St Scho is a relocation center and I'm put together with thousands of strangers. Bombs drop left and right. The ground rocks. The walls crack. The ceiling comes crashing. We scamper right and left.

I think of Forest. He's so dumb and helpless. I shouldn't have left him in our house to die with Paolo. Forest wouldn't understand it when a bomb comes for him. He's so silly. We could've made it, the two of us, running and hiding. I wouldn't even take anything in my bag except his food.

I leave the crowd. I need to be alone. There's no point to life.

I take a moment to remember him, my baby Forest. The way he'd jump at me when I'd walk in the door. The way he'd wake me up or cuddle beside me at night. The way we'd play hide and seek, me pretending not to see him, "Where's Forest? Forest, why did you leave Mommy?" and his tail going "tak, tak, tak" and he's so stupid to think I don't see him and then I'll pretend to cry and then he'll emerge from his hiding place to jump on me and lick my face, all this time squirming from delight thinking he played a really good joke on me.

It's the most fortunate blessing to be loved by a dog.

Oh, Forest. I love you. I hope it didn't hurt for you.

The building in front of me has caught fire. I walk towards it slowly until I disappear into the fire.

Crossing the Ocean

We're to cross the ocean on nothing but tiny boats that fit one person. There are four of us adults, a baby and four boats.

John is the only boy and first in command and he's the crummiest, dumbest boss I've ever worked with.

His first blunder: Forcing us to leave before we were ready. We were only wearing our bathing suits that didn't help us against the cold. The baby was assigned to me. I almost dropped it in the water thrice!

His second blunder: Making us set sail when it was high tide. When we were no further than 20 feet into the ocean the tide brought us in.

His third blunder: Ordering us to rest by the shore once the tide brought us in. I saw huge waves coming in and yelled, "Run!" and we all scampered to higher ground.

John was once again giving orders once we had settled down but I shut him up and took over. I ordered the girls to get us proper ocean wear (giving specific instructions as to the kind of bathing suit I want to wear under the outer suit.) Then I find the baby some milk.

The water is soon so calm. Not a ripple in sight. I decide we need to set sail. I assign the baby to someone else and tell John and I don't to hear a squeak out of him. We move along the water. (I love my outfit!) We keep sailing and I'm so happy but at the same time so frightened because there's nothing in sight but the ocean.

Pixie and Pony

"Best friends?" Pony says. "We are sisters," Pony says.
- From "Pixie and Pony" by Francesca Lia Block

We're Sunshine and Camille. We're also Pixie and Pony. We're not exactly sure if St. Pain is the bubble gum / film noir, vintage / ultramodern, starstruck Los Angeles of Block's work but today we're on a mission.

Before we even get to talk about strategy the students come down to the quadrangle and I'm literally engulfed by a sea of blue and white uniforms smelling as if they just came from PE.

Then Tina comes up to me to tell me that we have to leave as the whole institution is having Mass and that strangers are not allowed.

They caught us, I realize, so I say, "Okay, we're leaving."

Sunshine and I look at each other in disbelief and on our way out we dissect just what happened.

"Who would think Tina could do this to us?"

"She was always nice to us!"

"I was expecting Juliet to pounce upon us, honestly, but not Tina!"

"God, what's wrong with these secretaries?"

"Tina has lost it."

"Totally."

"Juliet's influence."

"Do you notice how secretaries have strange names?"

"I think people with certain names are destined to become secretaries. Don't you think?"

"I can imagine a Juliet and a Tina doing secretarial things."

"Juliet, Tina. Joo-leeh-et. Tee-nah. Hahaha."

"There's another Juliet in UP. Hahaha."

"Right, really sungit too. Hahaha!"

"I know an Annabel and a Maricel. Hahaha!"

"I know a Maritess. Hahaha!"

"And what about us? Camille and Sunshine? Pixie and Pony?"

"We're not secretaries! We're sisters!"

The Orchestra Pit and The Game of Tetris

Sunshine and I are judges and the only audience of this lavish St. Pain student production. What can I say, it's far better than any school production I've ever seen. The ambience of St. Cecilia's hall lends the whole thing some professionalism.

This tiny girl, Joanna (and I don't even remember having her as a student), makes a big entrance but misses the X spot marked for her on the stage and bounces off the big props and disappears down the orchestra pit --- the same pit I almost fell into years ago. We're all stunned into silence. It's so quiet that we hear her bones crack as she lands.

Could the pit really be that deep?

"Oh my God!" I scream and while I run to the pit I call out to the class president, "Chukis, run to the clinic! Run! Tell them we need an ambulance!"

"Sunshine? Sunshine?" Sunshine has disappeared.

By the time I get to the orchestra pit, the whole class is there and I see someone stroking Joanna's leg, trying to get her to move.

"Don't touch her! Don't move her!" There's so much crying and wailing and I myself want to start crying but I feel that as a teacher I must keep my composure.

"Everbody move away from her. Everyone except you, Balot. You can stay beside her and keep talking to her."

The pit clears and I see Joanna's broken face for the first time.

Bloody. Cracked into several pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle. Limbs twisted like gnarled branches.

I realize how tiny she really is. How tiny and broken. Like Barbie having a bad hair day.

I am unable to speak nor cry.

(At the next issue of The Blue Flame, an editorial will comment on my lack of tears and they will interpret my shock as unfeelingness.)

***

I want to say I'm sorry.

If you think that I could be forgiven. Wish you would.

I look at him from afar and practice my apology in my head but before I gather enough of myself he calls out to me, "Come, Camille and watch me play Tetris."

I come up to him from behind and watch. Nothing else is said.

I can't remember the last thing that you said to me as you were leaving. Now the days go by so fast.

To be able to follow the game more closely, I bend and rest my chin on his right shoulder. And he doesn't flinch so perhaps I have been forgiven.

I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself to hold on to these moments as they pass.

And this is the only tender moment we share. Me and this nameless, faceless man who has yet to tell me I have been forgiven.

Returned

I've been returned.

"What am I going to do with you now?" Mama asks.

"Give me my inheritance, Ma, and I promise to never cause trouble again."

To my surprise, Mama gives me a house and lots of money. I may be disgraced but at least I'm still rich.

It gets lonely and on my first night alone I call Paolo.

"This is ridiculous. Take me back or else!"

Silence. I wonder what's taking him so long to say, "Okay."

All the World Drops Dead

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

"Camille!"

I realize I've been mumbling Sylvia Plath. I take a deep breath and look around. It's all dark and fuzzy at first but soon I begin to see.

Around me are evidence of a plane crash. Pieces of metal still steaming with heat. Luggage. Severed limbs. Blood.

It's beautiful beyond the grounds that are dirtied by signs of the crash. Blue ocean. White sand. Coconut trees. Fruit waiting to be picked.

The voice again, "Camille!"

I ignore it and start to search for survivors but find nothing but limbs that don't have bodies, bodies that don't have faces and soon I scream from frustration.

I scream until the voice comes again. Urgently this time, "Camille!"

I try to locate its source as all world drops dead.