Even Steps

Paolo, Forest and I love the house at first but we get nervous when we notice the first signs that it is haunted.

A woman calls me on my cell phone telling me that she can see me, that we have to get out. This angers me and I listen to her rantings carefully and see if I can recognize the voice. Meanwhile, to save my family from panic, I slowly make a move to leave. I pick up Forest's leash and he comes running to me. I motion to Paolo to pack our things. With even steps, I walk to the car.

Very Cold

He sees me too late and by the time he waves back I am tossed about in the crowd. I am pushed forward. I travel without having to take a step. It feels like many unfinished hugs. I am laughing out loud. I can see him follow me and it's become like a game.

This continues until someone pushes me too hard and I fly up into the air where it is very, very cold.

Beds

I throw out all my furniture to make space for 100 new beds.

Pink

All around the room are knives. I reach for the nearest knife and cut open the skin of my left pointer. I am surprised at how pink my flesh is. I doesn't hurt at all.

Home

I call her to tell her I am home and if she could come over. Then before I forget I tell her, "It's a different address." I give her my old house's address.

Happy to be home, I don't mind cleaning up. I fix the broken shelves. I sweep the floor. I clear the cobwebs.

Dusk falls. I look for the light switches and wait for her to arrive.

she counts

the dead bodies outside her hotel room.

Her Killer

She watches her father beat up her mother. She feels guilt, relief, sorrow, delight. She turns to her brother who comes to stop the fight, to rescue their mother.

The emotion that wins is relief. That she is not the only witness and that she was true to herself in that she wanted to see their mother dead but at the same time but didn't have to do her daughterly duty of saving her mother from the hands of her killer.

The Beach

I am happy to be home. They show me a new room. It's made of glass and faces the beach. During high tide, when the big waves come, the water eats up the shore near the room. The tide slaps against the glass walls. It's so beautiful. My eyes trace the shore line and see people on the beach. A lot of them are surfing.

I bolt from the room and look for a bathing suit to change into.

"Where are you going? We're going to have dinner!"

I ignore them, find a bathing suit, and run to the beach.

I get pushed into a seat that flies away.

empty

i am holding the movie tickets in my hand. i try to get to the theater but all the stairs leading to that floor disconnect as soon as i set foot on them.

i keep climbing and the stairs keep disintegrating and the mall keeps getting bigger.

disoriented, frustrated, i make it to the theater. it's empty.

Bar of Soap

There's a roadblock on the way to the mall. I sneak pass it. Beyond the roadblock, beyond the mall, is a place I need to get to.

Inside the mall, no one will help me. I try to ask for directions but people push me aside. I fall. I lose my bags.

One girl says she'll help me. She will write down how to get to this place I need to get to. I have no paper. I reach for a big bar of soap.

"Write it here," I say.

She reaches for a knife and uses its point to engrave her first word.

the tower

we hide the body bag (the dead body is inside it) at the nook at the bottom of the tower. he assures me that this is the way it is done. a sacrifice the island needs.

the island is vast. there's so much green. cliffs. trees. the ocean all around us makes a scary, slapping sound. it is deep. i will not come near it so ---

i climb the tower. the stairwell is narrow and at a point it becomes a ladder. i keep climbing. i've never felt so motivated. it is as if i am being called.

i reach a room. it has a bed, books, a window, a desk, a tape recorder. i listen to the instructions that have been left for me. i use the desk to step up, push open a door in the ceiling. i ease myself up to the tower's highest point.

i will look down and survey the island. this vast, tough, indomitable island.

Flag Ceremony

We come in sipping our Starbucks. We're in uniform. They confiscate our coffee and remind us that our cellphones are forbidden. I look to Jill for comfort but she is slipping into high school faster than I can help her. I feel so lost. My cellphone is deep in my skirt's pocket. It makes me nervous. I am committing a high school offense.

I join the flag ceremony. Miserable.

Hose

I step up with the hose to water a hanging plant. The water doesn't stop gushing. I let it spill out of the pot, down my arms, my face, my naked body green like the plant. My skin, green and blooming, drinks up the water.

Is Alive

The murder happens every night with slight variations. What is the same is that the murderer, after stabbing his victim, is somehow overpowered and also dies in a pool of blood. The murderer and the victim, side by side, their blood mixing.

More and more people watch. We've become brave, knowing how we cannot change fate. We will never murder. We will never be murdered. We sit closer and closer to the crime scene.

One night it happens in a theater. We were watching opera. An aria, a death, applause. We are excited to see how they will play out the murder the following night.

A street, a restaurant, a school. The same red pool of blood.

I come closer to the dead bodies. The murderer wakes up, is alive, and grabs my leg.

Syllabus

We are talking about the syllabus. S is angry. N in between us, quiet. S keeps talking until N laughs and leans over for a kiss. I try to catch S's eye but she doesn't see me. I stare in disbelief, feeling more and more betrayed.

as if we were still children

he tells me he is afraid and asks me to sleep in his room.

his room: white curtains. sturdy desk. twin beds on opposite ends of the room.

from my room to his room, i go back and forth, carrying some things i need.

my room: blue. sturdy desk. a bed. books. a little dresser. dark.

back and forth. first, a brush. then, a pillow. a book. it seems like my trips will never end. i am angry at myself.

i feel a presence. from the end of the corridor, someone is watching. i hurry back to his room and shut the door.

school project

we are 15 years old.

they haven't forgiven each other, even though we've traveled back in time.

i feel responsible for this school project and give them assignments.

S says something funny. we all laugh. the air becomes lighter and i feel such relief.

cold and trapped

i say something that makes him snap. he comes into the bathroom where i am taking a shower. "what did you say? what did you say?" his mouth is foaming from anger. i lean across the wall, cold and trapped. i start to shiver.

he lunges forward and goes for my throat.

this house

it's changed much, this house.

we're eating lunch, just having a really pleasant time.

ab arrives with ch. ab motions, "you cut your hair."

i flip it, "yes, yes." i am feeling generous, friendly, welcoming.

A and i walk to my room. i'm feeling shy. "this was my room," i say. the house keeps changing but i know my way around it. i talk about the tiles, the ceiling. outside is the garden, sunlight, heat. inside is this ruin that is familiar and safe. it embarrasses me to take her around this neglect but i want to tell her that i love it, that without this i will be lost. these unused rooms, these creaky sounds.

it hurts.

i can't explain anymore. i watch closely to see if she understands. she does.

veil

i'm already wearing the veil. they can't find the dress. i fish out something red. i tell them it will have to do. they keep looking for the dress.

they find it. they make me wear it.

I say, "i've worn this once before. only once." i point out how delicate the details are.

it's not clear why i have to put it on again.

but i am loving the veil.

i put on the jewelry.

as i walk out i realize i forgot to change my shoes. i walk slow and make sure the hem of my gown covers my sneakers.


you said your vows and you closed the door
on so many men who would've loved you more
- Death Cab for Cutie

it's raining. i'm carrying so many books. the streets keep changing. i am farther and farther away from my classroom.

j

j is my student. he's smart and funny. i crush him. he sees me in the hallway. he puts his arms around my waist. he calls me camille. it's so familiar. i panic slightly and look around. no one is looking. i play with his hair. i tilt my head up for a kiss.

nike

she shows me what she's wearing. she asks, "do you still love me now?"

i giggle. i'm so happy. i will always love this wonderful person.

bridge, house, clothes

the bridge sways. below me, waters. from above me, rain. i keep my balance and walk on. i am oddly at ease.

i circle the unkempt house looking for a way in. i'm convinced that i'm home.

i wonder how long before they notice i'm not wearing any clothes.

Library

They've converted the old apartments to a library. A jungle-like garden spills out of the penthouse and through the vines I see chandeliers and lamps. The books hang suspended without the aid of shelves. Even the floors are invisible. Everything is bathed in an amber light. I feel right at home but before I start looking for books, I try to find traces of the old apartment and in my mind I place markers: This is where we played. This is where his room was. This is where a door used to be.

I am watering the plants naked.

Installation

Twice I was humiliated.

The first time was when I came up to him and said, "Hey, can I talk to you about something?" and then his friends who were beside him started teasing.

The second time was when I got him alone and realized I forgot what I had to say so I started to make it up but he must've seen right through it and concluded that I was madly in love with him and had gone berserk to be so close to him. He said, "I'm so sorry. We can't be together!" Then he walked away and all his friends started hooting again.

So now I am walking away as fast as I can, trying to forget the swampy feeling in my heart I call shame. I enter and exit buildings, cross streets, cross bridges until I come upon what seems to be another building but what is actually Installation. As in Art.

Taped on the walls are scraps of paper containing lyrics of my favorite songs. Contents of a bag are spilled out on the floor and they contain what my bag contains. A closet filled with my favorite clothes. My favorite shoes on a shoe rack. Pictures of me.

I run around confirming that it is my life elevated to the realm of Art. Tacked on the wall is a little card that says "Title: Love Letter to Camille."

A love letter! I am giddy with excitement and run around not even trying to hide my glee. My earlier humiliation is forgotten.

154

it's the kind of hotel that will politely be called "quaint" but what it really is is too old and too dark. my key says 154. i walk up and down the hall trying to find it. mark finds his room and so does nicole.

when i do find my room (and it was right there -- how could i miss it?) it says 154 pneumonia patients.

so many of them in a room. all dying. all looking at me with resentment. their breaths raspy and their dull eyes watery.

i turn around and run to the hotel's lobby but slowly the hotel starts to look like a hospital. i see nurses, bed pans, food carts.

still i hurry, clutching my key.

home

i am still half-asleep. he sits on the bed and leans over to hug me. i am on my right side so i have to look back to see his face, his blue shirt.

"are you home?" i ask.

he doesn't have to answer. deep in my heart is gratitude, happiness, peace.

Longing

Because the rest of the house is still being remodelled, the four of us sleep in the master's bedroom. I wait for them to fall asleep and sneak out and go to my room to make a phone call. My room, dusty and messy, feels so comforting and I dust a small part of the bed so I can sit down and call you.

"Hey," you say. Your voice. My heart swells with longing.

Mood Swing

He questioned me, "Can you ride anything?"
Lord do you mean like your mood swings.
- Tori Amos

He doesn't like the food and it ruins it a little for me. These things I eat in silence: roti and curry dip, soup, callos, chili stuffed with cheese.

I order more of my favorite things wondering why I don't feel full.

He makes a face and I feel so much bitterness. I think, just moments ago he was happy. Why does he do this.

The restaurant changes and there are more people and before I can tell him what I really think he's gone.

Secret Cathedral

It's been so long that we both have long hair again. You're busy and I watch you patiently, thinking of all the things I will tell you. I want to tell you that I've gotten our money changed and that up the hill is a secret cathedral and that you should come with me because I want you to take a picture of me. I want to tell you about your groupies who didn't think I could see them. They followed you around and charted your every move. They giggled to each other and ogled you. I want ask you if you remember this girl who had a crush on you and was hateful towards me. I was always nice to her anyways but this is what I want to tell you: Today I told your groupies off. I told them to get lost because, hay, they were ugly like that hateful girl but I was just too nice to say back then.

Ah, here you come. I want to tell you that I love you and that I'm happy. And that with all this money we will see the secret cathedral and maybe run away.

Gorgeous, Gorgeous

Files, records, reports. Meetings, pre-meetings, post-mortems. I've never been so harassed in my life. (When was the last time I said that?)

I look at my hand. What is this piece of paper still doing here?

I run to the elevator. "Wait!" I scream and run and my short hair bounces up and down while I run.

Out of the corner of my eye I see him see me. He stands up and follows. He has that look. Oh he's so gorgeous, gorgeous!

I make it to the elevator and just as it is closing he holds his hand up to stop the doors. Something in me fires up. Like dynamite. Like coming to life.

He kisses me and I let the piece of paper fall to the floor. And everyone, I can tell, is jealous.

I dont know how but I suddenly lose control
Theres a fire within my soul
Just one look and I can hear a bell ring
One more look and I forget everything
- Abba, "Mamma Mia"

The Happiest Day of My Life

Grand pianos crash together when my boy walks down the street.
- Magnetic Fields

It doesn't occur to me what day it is until I am in the cave with Juvenile Selfish Brat. I am wearing my blue Bebe shirt and I can hardly see him in the dark and I am filled with so much resentment.

"Please get out of my life," I say and it comes out easier than I thought. "You're a Juvenile Selfish Brat. I hate you!" And then that's when I remember that it is the day I am supposed to get married. I wish him instant death and run out of the cave.

The car is waiting for me outside. I get in the back door and my groom is already there! And instead of my Bebe shirt and jeans I'm wearing a white little dress! With frills!

I don't know anyone in the car but it feels right. We laugh all the way to the church. He's so cute, my groom. And we talk about all our little interests and hobbies and he holds my hand. It's the happiest day of my life.

As soon as the church is in sight I ask him, "What's your name? I need it for the vows."

Everyone in the car laughs. I am laughing too. I don't know why but this feels right.

Late Girl in a Yellow Dress

I wore my yellow dress.
I was pretty but I was late.
I secretly liked it.

It was a meeting, no less
But I was dressed for a date:
I wore my yellow dress.

It was improper, I guess.
But improper was my fate
And I secretly liked it.

They told me I was a mess
And must step outside the gate
Because I wore my yellow dress.

I didn't succumb to the stress
Because I knew that I was great
And I secretly liked it.

I scorned them, I must confess.
But I rose above the hate
And wore my yellow dress
Because I secretly liked it.

Dolls

I can see the city from where I am.

My suitcase makes a dragging sound. I move hesitantly, trying not to look at the view that nauseates me. I enter the room and I see they've placed mannequins of people on chairs, to make the room look full. There are plaster heads, too, on top of tables.

They're just dolls, I say to myself trying not to panic. I sit tight.

Finally, they call my name and I am to board. But when I reach in my pocket, I don't have a ticket. I only have four movie tickets and they're all torn up.

Return Ticket

"What day is it?"

"Sunday," David says to my panicked face.

"I have work tomorrow," I say and I scuttle about gathering my beach things and I realize I don't have a return ticket.

I think it through. David is no use. "Call the airline," he says and goes out to surf.

I go through my things again. Then I find my class schedule and and form indicating that I have been missing all my classes and that my diploma will be revoked. I don't understand. I go around the room, picking things up, thinking of who to call, feeling shame and guilt at my irresponsibility. I imagine my fastidiousness will make up for my negligence.

A Better View

We're all trying to make it to the ocean to wash away the sickness that came during the end of the world. Around us, dying animals, felled trees, stench. We run towards the sound we think is water. We run up a hill to get a better view. We don't feel the tiredness in our legs, our scabbed feet, our hunger. We reach the top to see below us the beach. The sun shines.

Carnap

Ortigas. Overcast. Not a soul in sight. Paolo suddenly points and says, "That man! Si Daddy yun!"

I look at the man and back at Paolo to see if he's joking. The man looks nothing like Paolo's Daddy except for the white tennis outfit that could pass as something Daddy would wear when he could still play.

Paolo is dead serious. "Si Daddy yun, tara."

We follow the man (whom I know is not Daddy) and he leads us to our car (the civic). The man gestures to me, open the door, as if he wants to drive us home. Paolo's so happy.

It is with resignation that I hand the man the car keys.

I know it before it happens: He pulls a gun somewhere from his pristine white outfit and shoots me, and drives away with the car.

Sauna

Yey, I think, Sauna. I think nothing of taking my clothes off. But when I get in, I get the shock of my life. It's a huge, huge pool and it's packed. Everyone -- all my batchmates are in uniform. There are boys too -- some in civilian, some in their high school uniforms. They're all staring at me and I'm stark naked. I wonder why I don't just run. I wade towards where my friends are (at the other end of the pool) and when I finally find a space, I sink in and try to hide. "Stop, you're getting my collar wet," a girl beside me says.

Austria, 1800

I didn't even get to say goodbye, I think sadly. This is what bugs me when I find that I am an Austrian princess circa 1800.

I don't have friends. I have a court. I am never alone. We traipse up and down the palace doing nothing in particular. Part of our job is to look bored. I think that my being Asian should look so odd but when I look at a mirror I see that I'm blonde, blue-eyed and over-all Austrian looking. I start to cry. No one will recognize me now, I think.

Against my better judgment, I come up to some people and ask, "Will you be my friend? Will you be my friend?" But no one wants to be my friend because, well, politics, they explain.

I've been imported, they explain. I will meet my fiance soon.

Fiance, I think. How depressing. Third world made-to-order bride.

I decide to make the most of Austria, 1800. I assume a voice of authority. (This is something I learned from films.) I order tutors. I want to learn Latin, I announce.

People start taking notes.

Latin, I repeat, to make sure they have it. When I am sure I am not going to be contradicted I continue. German, French, Fencing, World History, Cuisine...

I rattle off things I want to learn feeling I have made the most of a depressing situation.

In Disappointment

Class has never gone so well. My students answer when they're supposed to -- but NOT without raising their hands first, their insights are surprisingly deep, etc. I am Top Teacher and I see him at the observer's chair smiling, approving, taking down little notes that no doubt praise my excellent classroom management skills.

But things start to change. Students start coming and going, cell phones ring, answers go wrong. I try to control things and bring them back to the way they were but it's too late. My professor, my crush who is observing, frowns and shakes his head in disappointment.

Angelito

I am excited. I run up the steps in my high and pointy shoes feeling like Carrie who is about to take on New York except that I am just Camille taking on the new teacher.

I am a little flushed and disheveled when I get to the faculty room but if there's anything I learned from Carrie, Meredith and Kate it's this: If you look sexed you'll be sexed. So sexed it is.

The small crowd parts. I see him. He smiles in recognition.

The coordinator gestures, "Camille this is --- " The introduction is unnecessary.

"But I know you!" I say in my best flirty voice. But because it is him and he looks like a good boy and because we go way back I sound like I am joking. So it does not look suspect that our handshake is prolonged and that he pulls me in for a really sexy hug.

Illegal Alien

It was easy enough to get here. Easier than I thought. I feared I would have to go through severe checkpoints where fierce-looking officers demanded for my non-existent visa and searched me for third-world drugs. But here I am like magic.

The mall feels very familiar. I wonder if any mall across the world can make me feel at home but I doubt it as there are certain malls in the Philippines that make me feel lost. Ever for example.

Anyway I like it here in America. I play a game with myself. I look around and try to guess who the Filipinos are but I'm bored within minutes. (Just too many Filipinos, I guess. Not exciting enough.) I consider taking a cab but what if the driver can tell I'm an illegal alien and turn me over to immigration? I fish out my cell phone from my luggage and try to remember how to reach Sunshine.

TNT Forever

I walk around my new house and feel so much at peace. Dressed in my robe, I stroll around my garden which has a fountain and a gate that connects to a chapel where I can hear a choir sing.

Someone asks me, "When are you going home?"

"Never! I will be TNT forever!" And I laugh a bit but I realize that I am telling the truth.

Later on, or more like in a blink of an eye, I am in a big, beautiful mall with Paolo.

"I've been here before," I tell him. And although it doesn't look exactly familiar, it feels familiar and it's enough to make me happy.

Yumi

For Sunshine

I hear about this special flight that stops at San Francisco. I book a seat immediately. When I get there I ask how to get to LA.

"Is LA far from here?"

"Yes. No. Somewhat. It all depends" No one will give me a straight answer.

I'm starting to feel really, really desperate, what being stuck in a foreign city with no change of clothes (would it snow?), and no visa (scary!).

But I do manage to teleport to LA and it's Imo I see first, then Nacho who gives me a hug and says, "Ninang Camiw!" and then I see you all smiles and Asha a little nervous and a little thing bundled up in a stroller whom I presume is Yumi. I peer at her and try to decide who she looks like but my eyes are finding it difficult to focus.

***

If I could do just one near perfect thing I’d be happy
They’d write it on my grave, or when they scattered my ashes
On second thoughts I’d rather hang about
and be there with my best friend if she wants me
- Belle and Sebastian

T for Trouble

Nothing is familiar except his presence. So I go with him quite willingly.

"T for Trouble," he says, looking at me.

I laugh.

8 o' clock

Reno Dakota there's not an iota of kindness in you
You know you enthrall me and yet you don't call me
It's making me Blue Pantone 292
- The Magnetic Fields

There's a big party in my house but I can't enjoy because I keep running upstairs to wait for his call. My blockmates keep calling me, come down, dance, let's drink to the moon, but I put them off and languish by the phone.

They find me asleep by the phone when the party is over.

"He said 8 o' clock!" I cry into my hands. And then just like that the phone rings.

First a Drop

I will it to happen. The sky turns pink like it is reluctantly bleeding and the air is so still like the earth is holding her breath. It's so still, still. I am still. Rain, I think. And I feel the Laws of Physics shift, move, and the earth creaks in her orbit and the Universe, accustomed and bored with such fickle requests, refuses to concede. But I insist. Rain, I think. Rain, rain. I ask until my prayer is heard and it rains like a miracle. First a drop, then another. And soon water pours over the city, washes the streets, finds its way into the canals, makes its way into the ocean where it retires, rumbles, ripples because it is happy to come home.

Without Warning

A warning sign. You came back to haunt me.
- Coldplay

There she is walking to class. She is so sad and lonely. I want to walk up to her and ask her out for a drink. I want to change her life for her or at least get her out of her ratty clothes. I want to tell her how wonderful it is.

I know what class she's going to and I overtake her to beat her to it. I sit down and watch the door for her arrival. She doesn't know anyone in this class and it's going to be hilarious to watch her face scan the room and look for somewhere bearable to sit.

The door opens and she steps inside and wearily surveys the room. (I am laughing deep down inside.) And there it is, an unexpected ripple of joy on her face, a smile for a boy moving his things to give her a seat. Oh Camille, my beautiful young self, I want to warn you about life. I want you to enjoy today, right now. I want to tell you that this boy thinks you are cute. At least ask him his name.

But of course she doesn't. And the term ends and she goes on with her life completely without warning.

No Surprises

I am doing groceries for Ying's surprise birthday party and I'm having a stark-raving hard time because all the items keep changes aisles.

I make my way to the counter and when I get there, Ying's there with April and I give April a murderous look and she just looks totally spaced out.

No surprises.

Late for Busmath

Why can't we give love, give love, give love?
'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word.
- David Bowie, "Under Pressure"

It's a college campus catastrophe. The last of the bad people have been gunned down. I wait for him in the bathroom like we agreed. He comes for me, like he promised. He doesn't look at me. He sits on the floor, catching his breath. "Water?" I ask helpfully, gesturing at the sink. He just sits there like he's thinking of something very, very important. "Maybe you'd like to take a piss?" and this time I gesture at the toilet. He looks straight at me, pulls me down to the floor and gives me a kiss.

Thoughts spin in my head. What have I done? What does this mean? Why did he do that? Does this count as cheating? Who am I cheating, exactly? I love him. This is lifetime karma. What year is it? I love him. Maybe we could run away and not commit the same mistakes. I love him.

It's my turn to just sit there and catch my breath and if I don't tell him I love him it's because I'm afraid I might be acting old-fashioned.

"Let's go", he says, "I'll be late for Busmath."

It's my turn to pull him to the floor for a kiss that not only makes him late for Busmath but for Comath1, Comstat, and all his very important courses.

Underwater

It's coming over you. It's coming over me.
Crashing like a tidal wave that drags me out to sea.
- Plumb

Jill and I look at each other and don't even have to say anything. I wonder if I'll ever get used to digesting my lunch at 2 am. I wonder how I'll get used to doing anything at 2 am. It's unnatural to be up and about: eating, talking, making major decisions.

I'm so tired I don't even notice our friends have joined us. I nod off to sleep, right there on the table. When I come to I see that there are so many people, people I don't even know. I get a sinking feeling in my heart and call out for Jill.

Shawn comes up to me and says, "Chameleon, you need some sleep."

But even as he is saying it I see him slowly disappear and I try to run and scream but I feel like I am underwater and nothing makes sense.

Things I Know

I thought you were really retarded! I can't believe you're not retarded!
- Garden State

It's food paradise right outside the gate. Fishballs, the pink slush with sugar on top, green mangoes, santol, hotdogs, cotton candy, kwek-kwek.

It crosses my mind that I will need a digestive enzyme what with all this junk I'm eating non-stop but my tummy feels fine. Great, in fact. I've never felt younger or more unstoppable.

I reach inside my "invisible" skirt pocket for my phone and panic momentarily when I find out my phone isn't in there. And the fact that I'm in uniform makes my blood pressure shoot up.

I realize a miracle has happened to me. I'm back in time. Life should be a breeze now that I know what I know. For instance:

1. My clear zit-less face and "hair of an Ivory model" will not last due to stress, wear and tear. Best flaunt these assets now.

2. TA is an addict.

3. I will NOT get pregnant. Do not stress about contraception -- artificial or otherwise. (Hurrah!)

And I find that my thoughts are slowing down, slowing down.

Is there anything I can do, I wonder, to change who I will become? It's a hard life being me.

He comes up to me. He's also in uniform. It's so funny. Does he know what I know about us? Should I tell him? I wish I could take a picture for posterity, for proof but hey, guess what, people won't carry point-and-shoot digital cameras or phones with built in cameras until ten years from now.

"You look retarded," he says.

"I can't believe you're NOT retarded," I muse.

***

Every night I drink a digestive enzyme to keep my ulcers in check and fantasize about the shoes I can buy when I cash in all the vacation days I didn't get to use. It's hard to be number one. Everybody wants to be me. I want to be me. All I need to induce a panic attack (not to mention untimely split ends) is to look over the rival bay and see agents over there closing sales. Who do I have to fuck for all the sales calls to route to my agents? Surely there must be someone who'd appreciate some head. Maybe Gordon from IT but gosh he's so old.

- Stella Evangelista, Night Shift

Play

We're on stage and try as I might, I can't recall my lines. In fact, I don't remember rehearsing. I don't remember how I got my part. I don't remember how I got here on stage. I don't remember being an actor at all. I'm so disappointed in myself. How did I let something like this slip me by? How can I not have memorized a bunch of lines?

The extra beside me hands me a script. I'm so relieved but as I stare at it closely, I realize I can't read the words.

"I can't read it," I tell him.

He scoffs. He hates me, I can tell.

The lights go on, the curtain goes up and there's so much applause for me. Everyone's looking at me. The spotlight is on me.

There's so much panic deep down in my heart.

Grade 5

He's not as embarrassingly strange-looking as I remember. I reach for my phone already composing a message to send to my friends: "You will NEVER guess who I encountered today." But I remember that cell phones are forbidden in the room.

He's my teacher. I'm in Grade 5. The desk/chair feels really tiny but I feel good about being back in school. Maybe later I can clear up what level I really am supposed to be in. It's a full class. Everyone is in uniform. Everyone is busy scribbling. When he asks me why I am not busy I say, "I'm done." This startles everyone and they all look at me. I scan the room. All these girls are me. Me, me,me.

SEAL

Dedicated to all my teachers who made me suffer through SEAL. You scarred me for life.

Here I am again. Dressed in my PE uniform: white shirt, blue jogging pants, name tag, class number. Amazing Race got their concept from this traumatic excursion imposed on all seniors before we graduate. The most traumatic thing of all is the fact that we are NOT allowed to take a bath and there is BARELY a bathroom. This is more horrifying than starting a fire with two sticks, forgetting how to tie a double half stitch, formation marches, doing sit ups, having your tent collapse on you in the middle of the night.

Here I am again. But this time I know better. I break rank. (Screw my team leader!) I run to a building and find a bathroom but it's so dirty and smelly. I take the stairs and run to the bathroom on the next level. Still dirty. I try all the bathrooms as on each of the lower levels. When I can't go any lower and when I remember that I have a fear of basements, I see a bathroom that looks promising from afar. When I get inside I see horses being slaughtered.

Here I am again. I am being punished for missing in action. To make amends I have to do a hundred pumps. And as soon as I am done with my last pump, I get up and run to another building and get inside a bathroom and take my bath. I stand under the shower and start to cry with relief.

***

(When I got back from SEAL 1995, Mama came to school to pick me up. I walked right up to her. She stared at me for what seemed like forever before she gave a little start and finally recognized her daughter underneath the bruises, mire and tears.)

Time Cards

He thinks I should be made useful so he gives me a bunch of time cards completely assuming I know what to do with them. And I take them figuring I will learn on the job. Upon closer inspection, I see that the time cards of different companies have been mixed up. I see Paolo's time card. His girlfriend's time card. Sunshine's time card. (And she's all the way in the States!) It's chaos in my hands.

Ssshhh, I look up at my team who are on break and who are so noisy. I try to think what I should do with the most chaotic mix of time cards.

I am the New April

True, it may seem like a stretch
but it's thoughts like this that catch
my troubled head when you're away
and I'm missing you to death.
- Iron and Wine

My blockmates are quite hysterical about the fact that I have not attended a single meeting of Biology and have now exceeded my allowed number of absences. I try to explain that this class is totally unnecessary. Let's not panic, we've graduated, remember? No, no, they say. That ceremony was made void because I spent most of the time smoking the the bathroom with TL and other smokers who were in self-exile. This strikes a chord. Guilty as charged. Oh god. I am the new April.

So where were you, they ask. I was looking for someone. And as soon as I say that I realize I was looking for someone. Who? Who was it that I was looking for? I was missing him to death. My blockmates stare at me and wait for me to explain why I was gone, who I was looking for, what I plan to do about my excess absences. I suddenly feel so, so sleepy and so, so exhausted. I can't even bring myself to say his name.

Search Party

The closest Charlotte had ever come to getting screwed on a plane was the time she'd lost all her luggage on a flight to Palm Beach.
- Sex and the City

We're walking on the way to the airport. It is, after all, just round the block from the house. I've already lost all my luggage but this doesn't bother me. I try to think of what I packed but I don't remember. I don't even remember where I'm going. I just keep walking.

I see her run towards the stadium that also serves as a museum for all the atrocious things the Nazis did during the war. I try to follow her faster but my legs feel heavy from all the walking. When I finally get there I see that a search party has gotten there before me.

"Where is she?" I ask with mild panic.

"Camille, we're sorry to have to tell you this but..."

"No! You cannot give up! You will search every inch of this stadium until you find her! Until you find some clue!"

"Camille, you have to calm down!" But it's too late because I'm throwing things, breaking the glass, pounding walls."

"No, no, no, no! She's my daughter! You have to find my daughter!"

Mr Moron, Mr President, Mr Big

We didn't work out. He needs to NOT exist.
- Miranda, Sex and the City

Stairs, white building, huge crowd. Camille stands around waiting like everyone else. Then she sees Mr Moron (called so because he IS a moron). She dodges his line of sight. Tries to make herself disappear but when it becomes apparent that he sees her and her actions are making her look like a moron, she remembers her old school training and collects her best manners.

Camille: Hello, hello, hello! (Overdoes it.)
Mr Moron: (Speaks really slow and stares about like a moron.) Hi. I just got back.
Camille: Oh! Wow! Wonderful!
Mr Moron: Do you want to come over for old times' sake?
Camille: (Laughs hysterically. A sincere laugh. Thinks it is all a joke. Mr Moron is quiet.) Oh god. You're serious. God! Yuck! Bleh! My boyfriend will kill you for saying that.
Mr Moron: I thought you were married.
Camille: You're the one who's married! You married Ms Bangs and got her pregnant one baby after another. Left, right, left. Bing, bang, boom! You stupid, stupid moron!)

***

We're alone even when we're with men.
- Samantha, Sex and the City

I call him that because he's my most pessimistic student and the self-appointed President of the Bitter Club. Exclusive Membership. I am Muse and the only other club's member. You can only join if you believe you are truly alone and so far we've maintained our exclusivity. It just is so disorienting to see him so old. I remember him as really youthful. The first flush of youth, if you will. Tying his tie. Adjusting his cuffs, making sure the proper length shows outside his coat. Making a pen appear from his coat pocket. Youthful arrogance. Being obnoxious. Man-in-Training. It can't be that I was deceived. He was my student and he looked very, very young.

But I look around and see that all my students are old. What happened? Could it be that I'm old too? If they're old, I must be very old. I run to the mirror to check but I am still me. I haven't gotten old at all.

***
I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.
- Carrie, Sex and the City

You're coming down the stairs, hurrying, hanging on to your books. Your hair is flying. Your white dress is billowing behind you. And then he bumps into you as he's coming from the turn in the landing. Your books fly, your skirt flies up so you drop your purse to push your skirt down. You bend, he bends, you collect books. One after another, like a sacred ritual, you pick up the books, comment on them before finally exchanging. When all the books are off the floor, both of you stand. The spell has been broken and now you're a little embarrassed. So you grin a little and keep going down the stairs. Hurrying, hanging on to your books a little bit more tightly this time.

First Day

The smell of newness is something I love about the first day of school but I pretty much hate everything else. There's so much traffic. There are so many freshmen. There's so much noise.

I make my way to my first class. I have become an expert of wasting time on the first day of school. I have to go through my rules and explain each one. I have to get to know them while drinking cup after cup of coffee to stimulate my exhausted brain cells that have to remember 200 names at the end of the day.

Strangely though, this first day is different. I've barely gotten through explaining my A/F grading system when the bell rings and I have to get through my next class and it happens there again. And I feel I have merely seconds each class.

I wonder who I should talk to this about. The Registrar? How to explain it? "Dear Ma'am, I have reason to believe that I am being robbed of my class time."

A plane is parked in the hallway. "Come, Camille, this way." And in my confusion I just stand there and the plane door closes and it slowly glides away to take off.

Someone says, "That was the only way out of this school!"

Realizing my entrapment, I run after the plane. My papers fall to the floor. My hair comes undone. The door opens. Hysterical, confused and dirty, I jump in.

Shoes, Books, Dolls

There's so much activity outside the house. It's being prepped for some party. It all seems so... Town and Country. I'm engulfed with a sense of guilt that I wasn't around to help with all the fixing, polishing and repairing. There are pathways where there were once brambles. Everything is shiny and new. The garage has been transformed into some lobby with a lot of leather seats. When I get to my room, I see they've changed it but only a little. Over one wall they put a mirror and some kind of slated window over it.

I stay in my room touching everything in disbelief. I re-arrange my shoes according to color and function. I fix my books according to continent. I plop down on my single bed which was Daddy's single bed. I do everything to mark my territory because somewhere in the back of my mind is a nagging thought that I moved out of this house a long time ago, that I live somewhere else now -- somewhere else where a dog is waiting for me, that I'm merely trespassing on property that belongs to someone else, that all this: this room, these shoes, these books and dolls and yes, this bed I am stubbornly lying on is just a dream.

I Ask

She's three miles of bad road.
- REM

They've grouped us according to some kind of logic that I still can't get. I'm grouped with Sharon. We're so busy running around in circles that when I finally get the time to talk to her I come off as rude, "So you're part of this distro list.... Why?"

She tells the Person-In-Charge about my manners and I'm kicked out. I hear them behind me, "I told you... She shouldn't have been asked... She's three miles of bad road."

"Why just three?" I ask.

Summer

I can never resist the urge to walk around St Pain's grounds. Sometimes I fly but today the ceilings keep extending to block my flight. And after many attempts and many bruises, I give up completely and resign myself to walking around like everyone else.

One some occasions, the landscape of the school changes and staircases appear where there was a wall. Or walls appear where there were rooms. This scares me.

I get a call from Moe.

Moe: You're still there?

Me: I'm going home. See you later!

Moe: You can't. Tina, remember? She has papers you have to sign.

Me: (Grumble, grumble.) Can't it wait until tomorrow? I have to leave. There's this staircase that wasn't there yesterday and I tried to fly but the ceilings ---

Moe: No! They're MY papers and I entrusted them to HER and all you have to do is sign. Why do you have to be such a brat about this after she all she's done to help! Kawawa naman sya. Do you not know how important she is to me? How important those papers are?

Me: Well! If they're so important why didn't she just come up to me earlier? I was here the whole time --

And the line gets cut and I have no choice but to find this girl. But it's late and darkness has cloaked the building in an eerie shade of gray. And there have been more interior changes than a few minutes ago. I'm only now beginning to wonder: What papers? Why are they with Tina? What am I doing in St Pain when it's summer?

PInk Dress

The invitation said cocktails. I am wearing my pink dress with flip-flops -- an oversight on my part -- and I sip my drink looking bemused, practicing what to say in my head should anyone question my inappropriate choice of footwear.

They've done something clever with the pool: floating candles and lotus flowers. Maybe I should sit on the edge of the pool and kind of romantically dangle my legs over the water. That way I can do away with the fashion catastrophe I am wearing. But I wouldn't want to get my pink dress wet. Conundrum.

I suddenly see him. No, no, I hear him asking around for me. I run towards him and pull him aside.

"What are you doing here?" but I am not really angry.

I pull him along. We sneak up the stairs. It's dark. The carpet muffles the unbearable flipping-flopping of my flip-flops. I find my room. We enter it and wordlessly tumble into bed, our lips locked in a kiss.

Secret Rhyme

The earthquake has made the house tilt and now water is coming in through the windows, the doors, the ceiling. We all huddle in the room that seems the driest although by no means is it dry. I realize Forest is missing. I run out to find him. I might have lost him forever. Poor baby won't even understand what's happening to him. But I find him under the bed, where he usually hides and I call him, "Kwinks?" But he's mad at me for losing him so he doesn't move. I pick him up, hug him tight and recite a silly secret rhyme: "All dogs are baby kwinkas who love linka-linkas and babies and mommies should be together forever." This pleases him. He puts his nose to mine and everything is okay.

His Hair

Like pixelated scraps of jazz mags in your headlights.

It's the last few minutes of class. I can't concentrate because Moe is outside the door making faces at me. I roll my eyes at him, feign anger, ignore him but he keeps doing it until I laugh and my teacher looks at me and asks, "What's so funny?" And I say, "Nothing. I mean, what you just said. I mean, isn't it funny how so many people aren't aware of that?" And my golly, what's this, I keep laughing at my moronic answer and can't stop. "I am such a moron!" I think and laugh and laugh. You know when you start crying and just can't stop? That's how the laughter just keeps escaping me. I purse my lips to try to keep my mouth shut, I pinch myself, do my best to collect a somber thought: poverty, heartbreak, death but not a sad thought sinks in and the laughter gurgles up my body like water from underground.

The wall expands, becomes fluid, like an infinite dream.

Outside the room:

Solemn gazes of students deciphering a painting.
A boy in a workshop holding a ruler.
Footsteps in the courtyard resembling a clear pulse.
Music from a boom box. A boy learning to bike.
Sunlight bouncing off fountains. Dogs sniffing the air. A sandbox.
A girl tying her shoelace. Fishballs frying. A kite floating in the sky.
An old man sweeping leaves towards a little fire on the pavement.

I am still laughing. I go to Moe who is waiting outside. I touch his hair.

Twilight

Daddy and I are walking down the street of our old house. We see an alligator cross the road. Daddy, clown that he is, chases it. I say, "Stop it, Daddy, it's not funny." The next step he takes is into quick sand and I see him get swallowed by the ground in a second. I run to where he is and only see a rumple in the otherwise smooth sand. I stick my hand in this rumble and feel around all the while shouting, "Someone please help me save my Daddy!" I think I even feel his fingers for a while.

I panic. I run up and down the streets. "Help, I need help, someone please help me!"

There's no one there. It's twilight and the houses cast funny shadows on the pavement.

Newsletter

I turn my camera on
I cut my fingers on the way
I feel me slipping away
- Spoon

"It's for the official newsletter," the photographer says. Moe and I look at each other because it's not clear which newsletter our faces will appear but our confused glance is brief and we go back to being camera whores. It's almost, dare I say it, like a wedding pictorial. An everlasting time of keeping up everlasting smiles. But this time, maybe because I don't have hairpins poking my scalp, and maybe because for some reason my cheeks don't hurt from smiling, I'm having fun.

But when I look to the left, I realize it's a bedroom. Auntie Nieves' bedroom, in fact. And Paolo is sleeping and I kinda panic because he's late for work. So I tell Moe, "Go wake him up."

As soon as Paolo wakes up and I look behind me, I see that I'm back in my house and there's a party. And Paolo's girl friend arrives and I look at her closely and I stifle a giggle until I find Paolo alone and whisper to him, "Tell your girlfriend her shoes don't match."

Only Forest

It starts out innocently enough -- a rash on my left arm. It's Mama who notices when it's worse. But by then my whole body is covered in boils and the more stressed out I get the more vicious they grow. Mama won't even look at me and shoves me off the bed when I try to get close to her like I used to do when I was sick.

Only Forest still wants to sleep beside me.

Take this Club

Isn't this fun? It's like hell with a cover charge.
- Simon, Sex and the City

This is TL's lakad, for sure. It's fun to see friends in action, fun to watch them do things they're paid to do. We watch them secretly amused, laughing inside because we know this person is not this person pretending to be so... in charge.

Take this club for example. This is work for TL and as official kibitzers we take advantage of the bar, the boys, the beluga caviar.

The lights swirl. I feel lost. I see all these faces I don't recognize. I'm afraid. The floor tilts. The walls shrink. I try to scream but can't find my voice.

After the End of the World

He doesn't know street names but he drew me a map anyway which I follow the best that I can. And I start to feel really nostalgic when I recognize where I am. Taft Avenue is gone, ashes. Nothing remains but a school which has a name that I can't remember.

I pull myself together. Some structures around me are still smoldering. I hear sirens. This is the first day after the end of the world.

I see her desk. I start to cry. Everything is wet, grimy, but still intact. First, her records, her library books, her lunch box. I'm happy she isn't here to see this.

I leave as soon as I am done and start to worry which courier will agree to send this stuff.

Kissing House

If I kiss you where it's sore will you feel better? Will you feel nothing at all?
- Regina Spektor, "Better"

In the center of this world is a well where people come to have a drink of flavored water that changes color depending on the person's intentions. After all, we all have different intentions for drinking. Some of us drink because we are thirsty. Some of us drink because of habit. Yet some drink just for the fun of it. And who knows the million different reasons people need water? For every person a different reason and different color of flavored water.

All houses in this world have only one room. Thus, each house has only one function. A bed house, a dining house, a bath house, a kitchen house... The town bell ding-dongs every time it's time to change houses and it's so pretty how people, all at the same time, exit a house and enter a new one. Each inhabitant knows which house to inhabit next.

As much as I love order, already I am plotting to possess a house of my own. It's a kissing house. You go there to get kissed. I like it there. It will be mine.

Ecological Implications

Put the lotion in the fucking basket, bitch, put the lotion in the basket.
- Greenskeepers, Lotion


I find myself in front of a class I didn't know I was taking. My partner, someone I didn't know was my partner, is sharing talking about -- oh i don't know what he's talking about. I feel so foolish. Standing there in my office clothes, about to be humiliated because I didn't prepare for the report. And then my partner turns to me.

"Clarice," he says, "will walk us through part two."

I throw panic looks at the audience. I am hoping someone will recognize me and confirm that I am not Clarice!

When I see Moe I look at him and try to say with just my eyes, "Well, you recognize me, don't you? You know my name, right?"

But he's waiting, just like everyone else, for me to walk everyone through part two.

I'll get through this. Maybe even find it funny one day.

Suddenly I have an epiphany! I clear my throat. I know how to proceed.

"Thank you, Dr. Lecter. The ecological implications of the premise discussed in part one..."

Indeed

It's the ugliest baby I've ever seen. In fact, I wouldn't call it a baby but a tiyanak. Her body looks regular enough but its head is a huge adult's head. Lots and lots of pimples, scars and every kind of blemish you can name. It cries and cries. Finally, one of the nurses tell me, "Please leave the room. Your presence upsets the baby." MY presence upsets HER! Indeed.

Boring

Hectic. First I had to give Rachel and Freddie a ride from the convent to the hospital. Then I had to pick Paolo up from the storage house where he's doing an inventory of our furniture. When I finally got home, Sockie and Chesca were playing full force. Barbie dolls (mine), GI Joes, LEGO, RC cars. What a mess.

Sockie and Chesca are 4 years old which means I am 10 and too young to drive, too young to do furniture inventory, too young to be married, too young for this life.

At that moment Sockie trips, falls, hits his head and starts to bleed. I pick up my little brother, and take him inside to be bandaged. But just before I let him go and give him to Mama I whisper to him, partly to terrorize him, partly because I have no one else to tell, "I've seen the future, you know."

"What's it like?"

"Boring."

And he starts to cry, brat that he is, and tells Mama I am scaring him, and that I called the future "boring."

Monster Car, Monster Engine

Lying was inevitable because it was the only way with you. It became so routine that I'd lie even when I didn't have to. Like when you asked what I had for lunch I would say "pork loin" when it was actually "chicken with gravy."

Because I had a strict curfew and because I wasn't allowed to leave the school grounds, my date had to sneak my out of the school gym. (The levels of humiliation I had to sink to just to cover up a healthy teenage life!) We held hands. We went a hotel. We went to a bar. He smelled my hair. I ordered a Martini because it sounded nice and all the boys at the table held their breaths while I took a sip.

You didn't think anything was amiss because I made it back to school in time for my pickup time. How, you might ask? Well, he drove like the devil in his monster car and I think, because of his monster engine, I came.

I'm telling you this now, Mama, because I never got to. Because I don't need to lie to you anymore. And I'm sorry if I'm incoherent and if this isn't really coming out the way I want it to. I love you and I'm sorry I had to lie to lie to you about what I had for lunch, or who I was with and where.

Akin to Happiness

Out of the 36 ways of avoiding disaster, running away is best.

I have made up my mind to sit through this meeting, not really listening but just saying "I concur!" and "Absolutely!" or sometimes when feeling poetic and on fire with enthusiasm, ecstatically interject, "Absolutely fucking brilliant!" in random (yet intelligent) manner just to get it over with. And if I get asked a question I don't have an answer to I'll just say, like I was taught by great corporate guru to say, "I don't see why this is my problem." And then so that I appear to have a grasp of corporate workings I can follow that up with, "I think so-and-so from accounting / human resources / public relations could give us a better picture of what you are asking."

I drink one coffee cup after another. The person beside me, this hot unknown in a suit so expensive I could steal it, sell it and buy a ticket to the States to visit Sunshine, asks me why I like coffee. I think about what to say to hot guy in haute suit. But lethargy overtakes me and I decide, instead of coming up with something clever and flirtatious I can just say: "It makes me happy. " Because it does. This rush I get from coffee-- my heart actually beats faster -- is akin to happiness.

I look around this table and feel so ineffectual. There IS a part of me that wants to get out. Run. Don't look back.

Or even better:

Grab the hand of hot guy in haute suit and run, pull him along, run, make out in the elevator, run, make out all the way to Hong Kong, New York, the French Riviera, wherever else his wealth can take us.

However...

My legs feel like lead. And the coffee has lost its effect. I pour myself another cup and wait for the next rush.

Pretend We're Normal

Annie and I run upstairs to the theater where she has a show that I promised to watch. When we get there she disappears backstage and I eye the audience and think about where to sit. It's full of familiar faces but it's Dax, in his usual attire of khaki and white, who comes up to me and we talk about the strange things that have been happening lately.

We reviewed it events from the start. When the alarm sounded, we ushered as many students as we could into the chapel. I haven't been paying attention to the drills and neither has Dax so we were confused as to why we were taking shelter in the chapel. Turns out it was a bomb drill and this I found out the hard way. I tried to sneak out to buy some coffee when my favorite coffee store exploded. Huh.

"Why do we even go to these performances?"

"I dunno. To pretend we're normal."

"Pretend. Hm. Well, okay."

Beauty

I don't understand why you're hitting me, Mama. And a part of me wants to die just so you'd stop. I want to understand, I do. Is it because I am not like you? Or it it because I am?

I flinch. More afraid and confused than in pain. In fact, there's no pain at all.

I'm sleepy. I'm drifting. I watch myself watch you.

I see that...

It takes all my self-control to keep my eyes on your fierce, magnificent beauty.

Phone Gone Mental

Beware the Ides of March.

At first it's merely annoying to not be able to make a phone call. But the more I keep trying, the more my tension builds up and soon I'm panicking.

The keys of my phone are scrambled and every time I try to press a button some weird thing happens to my phone.

I keep at it all night --pressing buttons of a phone gone mental.

Shoot Me Now

Oh jesus christ almighty.
Do I feel alright? No not slightly.
- Lilly Allen

I dread this class which I never knew I had to take. But here it is on my class form. As true as day. I grumble and make my way to the room. I'm already late as it is.

I look around me and everyone else is so young. I wonder if they notice how old I am. Am I the oldest undergraduate? Who must I call to check? Surely there must be someone I can call. What if they don't believe me and lock me up in the Discipline Office for... for... wanting access to confidential records? What if they tell my parents that I've been cutting this class for ten years? What if my parents force me to matriculate myself? I'll surely, surely die. There goes my vacation money.

Even my clothes are all wrong, I think. I used to think that chucks with a short skirt were, like, the height of fashionable rebellion. And while I here I am wearing them, I feel ridiculous and well, let's face it -- mainstream. Not at all like the fashion outlaw I fancied myself to be. I disappoint myself. I miss my regular office clothes. Shoot me now but it's true and I'll say it again: I miss my regular office clothes. I miss my boring job. Could it be that the real rebels are... are... those nerds in regular boring clothes who have submitted to the office dress code because they've found another form of dissension? Another outlet for rebellion more profound than fashion? And is wearing something like, say, ratty sneakers to the office when you're not supposed to still a form of rebellion if it just so happens you can't afford anything else? Oh god. I can't think clearly. I must find this class but it looks like I am lost.

Blimey. This is fucked. I wish I had stayed in bed.

Secret Smile

Chapter One

This is funny.

This is funny?

Yes, yes, I know we should be panicking but there's something so ridiculous about us hiding in a bathroom stall. Hiding from the bad guys.

Wait a minute, they are the bad guys, right? Not us?

This is the girl's bathroom, right?

Dear God! The things you worry about! Does it matter? We run, that's the point!

We did this for TL's birthday, remember? In high school? We switched bodies when we hid in the bathroom to surprise her. Camille became emotional and cried. Jill comforted her.

And Chingkay?

Well she had no choice but to be epal. She became frontwoman. She handed TL the flowers when the door flew open.

TL acted like TL. She beat up Medina. We saw it from the slits of the bathroom door.

Nuts!

Hilarious!

What did Medina do?

'What did Medina do?' What an inane question! Tingin mo ba may laban si Medina kay TL?

Where were the others? How come we weren't complete?

Sssshhhh. They're coming.

Fuck, ano ba, your feet are sticking out!

Ang sikip naman kasi! Move it! Move it!

Tangina. They heard us. We split up. We run.

Chapter Two

So Camille runs. She's giggling at first but soon she realizes the urgency of the situation. If she gets caught and tortured, who knows what secrets she'll spill? And because she is a Classicist who is a closet Romantic not to mention a lapsed feminist and confused Catholic she prays. "Dear God, please send me Mr Darcy." She giggles at this but yes, a Mr Darcy, why not. If she had a friendster account "Mr Darcy" is what she would put under "People I Would Like To Meet" but to baffle the readers of her page she would also put "Married to Mr Dacry" under "Status."

Chapter 3

Camille knows her friends are waiting for her on the other side of the bridge. But before she worries about crossing that bridge she has to worry about escaping this building.

She finds herself in a test kitchen. Stainless steel.

Surely there is an air shaft somewhere? She tries all the windows and when one finally opens she gets out and stands on the ledge. It's night. So many stars. If she weren't being chased she would gladly stay in this position and count them. But she hears them coming.

She leaps. She finds that she can fly. She flips in the air and in her inverted position she sees the building from the outside for the first time. It's beautiful from the outside. It's a house. No, no -- a mansion! A fountain. A manicured lawn. An English garden. She's seen this house before.

It's Pemberley! It's Mr Darcy's house!

She knows she will one day live in Pemberley. She's convinced of this.

The stars are the only witness to her secret smile.

At the Aztec Hotel

We're all waiting in the lobby. I have my room key. There are flowers everywhere. And lights. And mirrors. And Aztec chocolate.

My heart skips a beat when I see him. I wait and wait for him to come to me. I put my hand inside the pocket of my jeans just to touch the key.

Goodbye from a Ghost

I'll write you a postcard. I'll send you the news
from the house down the road from real love.
- Stars, "Your Ex-Lover is Dead"

It's an awkward situation. I can't just leave -- that would be rude -- but nobody seems to notice I am here.

So bravely I come up to you and take my leave and it's only then that it's confirmed -- I am invisible. I am dead. I am ghost.

Still I am intent on saying goodbye to you, my lost beloved. (Yes, by now I realize it's not me who's lost. It's you.) I search madly for a pen and a piece of paper where I try, in my best penmanship, to write a goodbye from a ghost.

God Save the Queen

Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.
- The Godfather

"Let's go girls. Strap on your stilletos."

Tl, Nins, Chinx, Jill, Kamil. We are assassins extraordinaire and tonight we have a job.

Inside the LV suitcases are guns of all shapes and sizes, grenades, knives, swords, balisongs. All well and good but where are the clothes? Surely our clothes have to be flashier than our weapons. It's in the rules! How ridiculous to make us go to war dressed like civilians.

God save the Queen Kamil.

"My conquistador, always conquering. Where are the clothes? Why are you tying me up my right hand?"

"So you can assemble this (complex weapon) blindfolded AND with just one hand."

"Surely that's not necessary," says Chinx alarmed.

"Paputukin lang naman nya yan ng papuputukin diba? Kailangan ba talaga yan?" says Jill, ever so smoothly.

"Sige na Kamil, makisakay ka na para makaalis na tayo," says TL the practical.

"Kamil, remember to teach me how to tie that knot," says Nins already thinking a naughty sex thought.

Right. So blindfolded and with one hand tied behind me I assemble this weapon that looks -- voila! -- like an honest to goodness gun. Papuputukin ko lang naman ng papuputukin but will this look good on me?

I look in the mirror. It does look good on me. But... perhaps...

He senses my apprehension. My conquistador. Always conquering. Conquering the world in the name of his queen.

"What is it? What's the problem? Oh Kamil, we don't have time. What is it now?"

I study myself in the mirror. I practice assassin posses. "Oh I love it. But the question is... Does this come in pink?"

No Off Season Picking

Because I am so sleepy I make a wrong turn somewhere and so now we are lost.

On the other hand, it's just Baliwag. How lost can I be? I keep driving. Everyone else in the car is fast asleep.

It's when I turn into private property that I start to get anxious. I mean, I've been going the general direction of the NLEX but now I'm in a place that looks like a monastery. I've never seen so many santol trees in my life. There's a sign that says: NO OFF SEASON PICKING.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Somewhere a gate opens and I drive towards it hoping to get out.

Outside it's not the highway as I expected but a cliff with a view of the ocean. Big, big waves.

We're sooooo lost. I worry about all the people waiting for us to get home.

Every night my dream's the same.
Same old city with a different name.
- Arcade Fire, "Keep the Car Running"

Because I Do Miss Him

He's 23 and no longer a baby and but I still think of him as my baby brother even now as I, The Firstborn, seek him out for help, for support, to implore him to not forsake me to the lonely realm of The Only Child to where I once belonged.

My baby brother. My granted wish taken back too quickly. Born four pounds (but now so fat). Shriveled and yellow. Sickly. Sockie. The Favorite Child. The Boy. The Crybaby. I know now you are happy. You have a new family now. You exchanged your Only Sister for a whole collection of Brothers. In your letters you feel self-assured enough to write to me words of wisdom and comfort. Indeed you have become godlike in your silence. In your farawayness and seclusion.

I arrive at his house which smells sharp like freshly-cut wood and is beautiful. While Sockie is being called, someone gives me a tour. My slippered feet hardly make a sound on the polished-to-a-shine wooden floor. The delicious smell of ginger in the air. Outside sounds from near and far enter faintly -- footsteps on cobblestones, skirts rustling, a fishing net flung to the sea, rain.

The library catches my eye and I want to explore it but my tour guide prods me on. I see hallways. Doors. Windows where concentrated light comes in. Staircases that curve and disappear.

At last. Sockie. The moment he sees me he bursts into tears. He bursts into tears! The nerve! My First Born Thinking Cap is slipped on automatically and I think, "For sure I will be blamed for this. I must control this damage." Out of guilt (for his unknown suffering I am sure I did not cause) and martyred discipline (as if Mama was watching) and because I do miss him. I let out a tiny sigh and hug him to comfort him and ask him, "Sockie, what's the problem now?"

Another Glass

Just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there.
- Radiohead, "There There"

Finally a drink of water. But what's wrong with this water? It doesn't seem to quench thirst. So I down another glass, another glass, another glass. Nothing. Still thirsty as ever. Weird!

Swing

There are more guides than there are of us regular people. At the top of the steep climb is a white house. Old but clean. Falling apart in some places but still pretty. At the backyard is a swing. I look at one of the guides and he understands what I want. He gestures, "Go ahead." So I do. I go ahead but before I can sit myself down properly he gives me a push, "Wait, wait, wait," I scream, "I'm not ready yet!" Too late. I hang on to the chain as I swing high up and around. I see that the mountain we're on is higher than I thought. I see that the ravine plunges down to scary depths. Everywhere below is green. It's so beautiful -- so many kinds of green. The blue sky comes closer to me and I let go of the swing to join it.

New Snow

It's so cozy, this room. The lampshades give off a warm yellow light. The sheets are crisp and smell like soap. I'm getting things in order because Cheng is back and she'll need her old room back.

It's funny, but I seem to remember having moved out of this house. Cheng, Me, everyone else. But here I am again and Cheng is coming back. So, that moving out -- was I dreaming?

Outside it's snowing. Everything is white with new snow.

I put my hand out the window to see how cold it is. Maybe Cheng will need more blankets. But it isn't cold at all.

I smile contentedly.

Sturm and Drang

Under rapid fire.

Neil is asking me question after question. It's been so long since I last sat in one of his classes and I've completely forgotten how much pleasure and pressure one can feel to have him as a teacher.

What movement were the Neo-Classicists reacting against? Romanticism.

Goethe's work The Sorrows of Young Werther is associated with what movement? (Shit.) Sturm and Drang.

Which means? (SHIT.) Storm and... Storm and.. Storm and (jesusfuckingchrist) STRESS.

I look at Kath and she starts to laugh. Stress indeed. My hair has stuck to my forehead. So much nervous perspiration. But Kath is laughing. So that means I'm okay. Kit is in the corner playing the guitar, oblivious to everyone. Abi has wrapped herself in a cocoon of silence (as usual) and is not paying us any attention. I turn to Neil, wondering if he minds his students not paying him any attention but... he's GONE.

The vulnerability of power is that it wishes to be acknowledged.
- J.Neil Garcia
Class, 25 April 2004

Teaching Her the Mundane

You put your arn around her, careful that she doesn't break anything. But tonight it seems she's left her klutz behind. She asks you about everything in the room. Everything is so mysterious to her. Nothing seems normal. "What's this?" she asks and it's only a printer and you laugh and can't say and this hurts her, slightly.

So you sit her on your lap and one by one point out things in the room and their names. She tries to distract you by kissing you and while you kiss her you still carry on the business of teaching her the mundane and when you're done you steer her out of the room, with your arm around her, careful that she doesn't break anything.

Once outside she looks around her and gasps.

"Where are we?" she asks you.

"Makati" you say.

"Impossible. It can't be. It just can't be," she says staring at the vast jungle stretching out ahead of them. Fog circles the treetops. And from far away she can hear a waterfall.

"Stay close to me," you say already steps ahead. She's still standing there with her mouth open.

She comes to you, holds your hand tightly, disbelief still in her face.

Starts Revving

Jesus don't want me for a sunbeam.
- The Vaselines

Something is wrong. I drag my suitcase with wheels behind me. The voice on the speaker calls my flight number and I check my boarding pass to make sure everything is in order. But something is wrong, I feel it.

I check to see if I've forgotten something. Wallet, check. Cell phone, check. Underwear, check. What is it then?

The flight attendants look at me funny when I get to the plane. I look around but can't find a seat. How can that be? There's supposed to be a seat assigned to me, right? The engine starts revving and I realize that I don't belong here in this flight.

I make my way back, dragging my suitcase with wheels behind me. I choke back my tears. I thought I could really leave this time. As soon as I am off the plane it takes off leaving me like an unwanted child.

Right Foot, Left Foot

You walked into the party
Like you were walking into a yatch.
- Carly Simon, "You're so Vain"

She discovers she is alone when she wakes up. The walls come closer to shrink the room. No, no, no, she whimpers. She looks around hoping to be dreaming and cries some more when she realizes that she's not.

***

She walks into the room trying to keep her balance. Right foot, left foot -- it's called walking. Everyone is watching her. She keeps walking. The crowd moves closer to her forming a wall.

***

She experiments. If she stamps hard enough the floor make a two-mile wave. She keeps stamping, trying to see how much pressure she should apply to create a wave that would reach the other side of the world -- a wave that would, by principle, go around and hit her in the back. She keeps trying. She thinks the waves are getting bigger. But no. She realizes with some disbelief that she's shrinking.

She Sees

Nothing on the top but a bucket and a mop
And an illustrated book about birds.
- The Meat Puppets / Nirvana, Plateau

If you would look closely you would see that she's panicking. She's throwing sidelong glances of panic -- on the lookout for her friends. She's biting her lips, trying not to cry.

But of course you don't see her panic because she hides it well. Furthermore, you don't see her panic because you don't see her at all and it takes her a while before she realizes that no one can see her.

She takes advantage of this weird situation and goes past the sign that says "Keep Out" and keeps going up the steps and she only stops when she reaches the top where she sees --

Glass

Trusting my soul to the ice cream assassin.
- Tori Amos

People think I know where I'm going but the truth is I don't. I don't even recognize the clothes that I'm wearing and when they call my name -- Camille -- it's like it's not my name at all.

Nevertheless, things feel familiar. I'm in a building made of glass. When I ride the elevator made of glass I wonder if people from below can see my underwear. The glass is so clear. I can see miles away to what could be... uhm... Antipolo, maybe.

Then I see the bullet come toward me ever so slowly that I have time to make a list in my mind of all the people who would want me dead.

Without a Glitch

We pass several basement levels before we finally find the right one. I don't even know what we are looking for but we keep going lower down.

When we reach the level that we decide is the right one we all do what we're supposed to do as a team. No one is giving us orders -- we just know what to do.

Some doors can only be opened by at least two people -- one person punches a code on one side of the room while another person inserts the access card on the other side. It's really tricky. Someone keeps screwing up but it goes off without a glitch when me and my partner do it. We manage somehow to open these strict doors -- me punching in a code I didn't know in a machine I didn't know I could operate and my partner inserting an access card I didn't know she had. This small achievement makes me happy.