Skinhead Boy

We hold hands as soon as we are out of sight. We exchange meaningful smiles, smiles that carry promises, smiles that tease, smiles that are there simply because we are so happy.

It's hot and dark and the alley is filled with the cooking smells - inasal, sinigang, adobo, grilled lamb chops, roast duck, garlic.

We make our way to the heart of the alley and I can't get over him. This skinhead boy with the long legs and washboard tummy. I brush against him just to feel him and he brushes back.

He pulls me inside one store in the alley and asks me, "What do you want to eat?"

"Anything," I say.

He takes a good look at all the food spread out and as he is choosing, I lean on him and put my arms around his waist and tell him, "I love you, Skinhead Boy."

He leans over for a long, wet kiss.

The Missing Skirt and The Irate Caller

Someone had a bright idea to have a wedding photo-op and for some reason everyone agreed. So here we all are again in church, re-constructing our wedding for the camera. In between shots I sit around in my wedding attire sans skirt and put on a pair of shorts.

When it's time to shoot our wedding kiss, I can't find my skirt. I try to convince everyone that my shorts will have to do. Do I not look so deconstructed? So postmodern? This is the look on this month's Italian Vogue, I swear! Perhaps the photographer can later on just photoshop a skirt on my person. But no, everyone insists that I should not stop until I find my skirt. I look everywhere but I don't find it and everyone is so annoyed at me because it looks as if we will have yet another wedding pictorial.

***

Jill answers her cell phone, listens and hands the phone to me. "It's Moe. For you."

I gesture wildly, like in charadres, shake my hands to mean, "No, no, no!"

Jill takes on a very professional manner (I guess it's her call center training) and says to her phone, "She can't come to the phone right now. May I take a message?"

She listens and from time to time covers the mouthpiece to repeat snippets of his message to me. "He hates you. He regrets ever having known you. He hopes you go to hell."

The rest of the barkada form a panel and comment on this new development. It is so American Idol.

"Who is Moe?" wonders Chingkay.

"MInsan mas mabuti na ang walang balita," says TL.

"This calls for an intervention," declares Nins.

As soon as Jill hangs up, she rolls her eyes as if to dismiss the call and says quite lazily, "What an irate caller."

I smile. Irate caller! I haven't heard that term in... years! And what a term to call Moe. It's so ironic but nobody but Jill and I understand the joke so when our eyes meet we burst out laughing.

The Other Wife

I bring it up in the most frank and calm way I can manage: "My love. There is a woman outside the house who says she is your wife. Your real wife. Is she telling the truth? 'Yes or No' lang please."

He hangs his head in shame and tells me that truly, the woman outside is telling the truth. He says I have to leave now. Thank you, good bye.

"Asshole. Do you know how much trouble you would have saved me if you had just told me about this sooner? Unbelievable."

I'm so stunned and confused that I don't know what to pack first. I just take a bag, stuff in the bank books and some money and put Forest on a leash. I realize I can carry more stuff so I take his bath tub.

On the way out I meet the other wife. I take a good look at her and realize that instead of jealousy, I feel pity and I want to reach out to her and tell her, "Good luck," but Paolo hurriedly takes her inside and shuts the gates on me.

Game Master

They say I have to stand in front and wet all these people with this hose. Are they crazy? It's for the party, they say. I volunteered to be game master, do I remember?

So I gather everyone and make them form 2 lines (the teacher in me takes over) and lead them out into the field. The idea is so ridiculous that I can't stop myself from giggling and people keep asking me, "What's so funny? Why are you laughing?" And I say, "Nothing, nothing. Heeheehee."

Out in the field, I make them stand in little groups while I take out the hose and before anyone can ask me what I'm doing with a hose in my hand, I start spraying.

They all start squealing and wiggling about and by now I'm laughing out loud. It's just too inane. I don't think anyone would want me to be game master after this and that thought is so funny -- though I don't know why -- that I keep laughing.

I laugh so much that the hose shakes. It lifts off the ground. I step up into the air. Into the air! I'm flying! Me and the hose are flying! From my vantage point, I keep spraying the people and they keep squealing. What fools. And since I can't resist a little bit of added attention, I spray myself with water and do cartwheels in the air and the fool crowd claps for me.

Jojo Grecia

I call Jojo Grecia as soon as I realize where I am. That I am back here is hard to accept but even sadder is that maybe I never even left. Jojo can explain. He will tell me what happened and what I should do.

He assures me that he will meet me for lunch. Which means, of course, 2 am. When I see him, I start crying just because he's so familiar. Everyone I was friends with, everyone I know is gone.

He says he has to take a train to get to the next building and he tells me to ride with him. On the ride, I rest my head on his shoulder and he holds me tight to keep me from sliding off my seat. Keeping his voice down to a whisper, he tells me what happened, that someone is after me, that as long as I don't tell anyone who I am I will be okay.

Incredible Scorn

He’s been lecturing me for quite some time now. I try to be empathetic, to listen with my heart, to unleash my inner Oprah but I have no clue as to what he’s talking about. He’s tall and bald and so, so hot. Just look at his butt!

Oh I swear, when he came towards me, I undressed him (in my mind) and by the time he said his first angry word, I consummated the relationship (in my mind). Still I am stunned when he asks, “What kind of girlfriend are you?”

“What? I mean, pardon? Say that again please?” I come to.

“You are an awful girlfriend.” Oh dear. A scene.

Quickly I scan my mental files. Quickly I scan the area around us -- no one must overhear this demented conversation. This man claims to be my boyfriend! How can I have forgotten him? I am getting old. I forget boyfriends (present ones at that!) as easily as I forget the dates. I’m too embarrassed by my lapse and though I don’t remember his name and can swear I’ve never met him in my life, I try to pacify him, to be polite. Surely good manners will see me through.

He continues, still dignified, but this time holding back tears. “You promised to come with me. I went with you wherever you took me. It’s all about you. You’re so selfish but I still love you. Please come back.”

I don’t understand it but I am crying as well. I’m so moved! This man still loves me! If I could just remember his name!

He turns around and leaves and I stand (I’ve been sitting on the pavement) and scamper along. “Wait, wait! I’m sorry! Please, don’t be like that. Wait! You! I still love you too!” Now, what the fuck is his name?

I lose him. It’s a big crowd – the auditorium is full. The concert has ended and Sunshine and Seo have come to take me home.

“God, “ I begin. “God! I feel awful! My boyfriend’s name completely slipped my mind! Talk about awkward! Poor guy! Oh well. Oh well, have you seen my husband?”

“You’re married?!?” they exclaim together, on their faces a look of incredible scorn.

Bring the Rum

Get used to the lonesome
Girl, you must atone some
- The Shins

"We are all worried sick," the note begins. "Your sudden disappearance has caused us much distress. Where have you been? You are reading this note which means you are back. You have done a lot of wrong that you must atone for. You can start by doing a turn at the oval."

I sigh and change my pretty shoes for roller blades. Punishments, punishments. Fuck.

This oval that they are talking about is a complex roller-blading rink complete with landscapes and seascapes and whatever view you can imagine.

I skate out to it with a heavy heart, deliberately ignoring the gorgeous scenery and not looking any of the other skaters in the eye. Alex Vista sees me and exclaims that he misses me and since I am going for a turn, he might go for a turn too and he runs inside to change.

"Bring the rum!" I yell out to him as he disappears.

Two Weddings and a Giant Bouquet

Rica had 2 weddings. The first one didn't have the groom. In fact, it didn't have any men present at all. It was just us girls in our best gowns partying in the church. It was like some kind of debut.

The second was the same ceremony but this time with the groom and the rest of the men. It was more sober. It was like some kind of funeral.

I asked her why go through double the trouble and she said, "It's the way it's done." So I thought back to my own wedding but seemed to remember doing it only once. I felt awful.

Rica looked beautiful in both her weddings. But by the time it was time for us to do it again, everyone was so pooped and the girl's dresses didn't look too fresh. I was too distracted that when it was time for me to walk down the aisle as bridesmaid I realized I had left my bouquet somewhere and I tried to remember where I put it but I couldn't remember and the look of the church kept changing so it was useless to try to find it.

I yanked a fistful of flowers from a nearby pot and starting my walk down the aisle. I thought I would be alright but people kept handing me all kinds of flowers and I started having a hard time walking steady. I dragged my feet. I started to sway. The slit of my skirt ripped and exposed the whole length of my thigh. I wanted to hold on to my skirt but both my hands were busy grasping the motley bouquet to keep it steady.

By the time I got to the front, Rica's 2nd Wedding Ceremony was over and I was exhausted and had in my possession a bouquet so unusual and so large that they would later have to knock down one of the church's walls for me to be able to get out with it.

21 Again

My Darling Love, what did you do to your hair? What made you shave it all off? Did you save me a lock? You look funny, like an egg.

You've woken me up and you're now lying beside me and smiling because you got away with cutting your hair.

Darling, the idea was to look like George Harrison (circa Abbey Road). Now you just look funny, like an egg. I will never forgive you.

But I do forgive you because you say, "You can pretend I'm 21 again and you can close your eyes and run your hand across my shaven head while we make love and it will be like before."

I close my eyes and it is like you said it would be.

Pajamas, Bandaid, Knight

No one has said a word and it's getting dark outside. The chicken is roasting and the car is getting vulcanized.

You move.

My white pajamas all white with tear in the knee. A bandaid.

If I move, it'll be the wrong one but I want to keep playing. To wait for the chicken to roast, the car to get vulcanized and my wound to become a scab then heal.

I move.

Then, it happens like I always knew it would.

You laugh and you move and and move and move and I try to say stop, it's my turn, that's not how we used to play, that's all wrong but I can't move my mouth so you keep laughing and moving and I try to move but my arm won't budge and my fingers won't budge and my wound it tickles and I can't even scratch it.

The chicken burns, the car explodes, my pajamas catch fire, you disappear.

I take a deep breath. I Tell myself, "move, move, move." Until finally, my body jerks forward, I grab my knight (the only piece left) and run outside and scream for help.

117th Steet

Mama says, "Trust me, it's easier to get to the Mall if you cut through this parking lot then cross 117th street."

It sounds so impossible. I haven't even heard of 117th street. It connotes chaos because it sounds like Divisoria's 168.

So I say, "Oh, I dunno Ma. Maybe I'll try that when I'm not in a hurry and when I'm wearing the right shoes."

But she insists and even walks me part of the way but then she has to leave.

"Remember, 117th street!"

Mama is right, who would've thought. Never in my wildest dreams did I think a street like this would exist in Ortigas. Floating neon signs, midgets, purple chickens, book shops and the smell of caramel in the air.

I see the Mall but linger on 117th street.