บท 3: Track 1 - I Hate Love Songs by Kelsea Ballerini
DECEMBER
Love hurts. Cliché as that may sound, but it's true. And I am witnessing it right this very moment.
I am hurting to see Cece like this. I can feel the pain in her every tear drop, the weight of her breath. Like her, I could hardly breathe. This is terrible. She is standing in the middle of the dance floor, alone, literally all eyes on her, watching her cry, frozen.
I want to rush towards her but I'm afraid that she would just breakdown when she sees me. I've known Cece since Freshman High and I know she's a total cryer. She cries a lot, mostly when she's happy. Like when she witnessed a very humane thing that another human being did - a man tried to save a cat in middle of the highway or someone made the extra effort to buy food for a homeless person. She definitely cries when she's sad too - when she read a story of a brave cancer patient that went viral on facebook, or that a whale was washed out on shore and found dead because of so much trash in its belly. But I've never seen her cry like this. This is painful.
I don't understand why Teacher Kim would just leave her like this. What thought to be a fairytale come true now turned into a mystery, then suspense, thriller, then horror. Surprisingly, Cece is not distraught or hysterical, like she knew this was coming. She is still very beautiful though, despite her tears or being left by the man she loves, still, she looks like a true-to-life butterfly princess.
"Balong," I whisper.
At the oddest of surprises, the dirtiest perverted person I know comes to the rescue for Cece. He takes off his coat and wraps it around Cece's shoulder, he hugs her and leads her out of everyone's quizzical and/or judging eyes. I follow them.
At the side exit of the convention hall that was closed for our Yuletide Ball, I see Archibald 'Balong' Dickinson standing near the staircase, leaning his back against the wall. Cece is sitting on the steps, her face, blank, but her tears are flowing endlessly.
I walk slow and quiet, "Cece," I mumble.
Balong and Cece both look at me. Balong looks like he is ready to kill but Cece, immediately, breaks her blank expression and cries into a total breakdown. I knew it. I rush towards her and hug her tight. I glance up at Balong and I see water glinting on the corner of his eyes, his expression, hard.
Cece has told me twice before that she has fallen madly crazy in love with Teacher Kim, I believe her. We rarely talk about boys, but lately it was everything she's been all about. I've noticed how much she's changed, but the best of it all, she was happier, not crying happy, but.. happy in-love.
But I knew this is coming. I didn't want her to get hurt, but I also know for a fact that love hurts. I know because I am soon to be a victim of it too, for the third time. I am one decision away now. But compared to Cece, I've had enough of pain in my life to prepare myself for the inevitable truth - that love hurts.
"I'm going to kill him!" Balong murmurs, in a low-inflamed voice.
"Balong!" I snap at him, jerking my head a little towards Cece who I've let cry freely on my shoulders.
I know it is wise not to bombard her with questions or tell her it's going to be ok, because I don't understand what is going on. I just hope, while hugging her tightly, that it is good enough that I am here for her for as long as she wants. It helps too that Balong is here with us, I know that for sure.
I never really cared about this Yuletide Ball. I've suspected it will be full of drama. I care about Cece and what she is going through right now, but this kind of romance-filled events typically end up with someone crying, hurting, and breaking. If it wasn't for Cece convincing me to go, I wouldn't have. But I'm glad that I did, so that I can be here for her, now that this has happened.
Earlier today, it was just an ordinary day. At least for me. While everyone's busy going about their preparations to be as perfect as they want to be for their grand entrance to the ball, I woke up this morning like any other weekend.
On school days, I wake up at 5 o'clock in the morning, if I am in a good mood, 4:30am, to prepare breakfast for my mom and my little brother, RJ. My mom used to do this, but when RJ turned four and she started working as an Executive Assistant to the General Manager of a cargo company, she had a hard time waking up early. So I took the kitchen job instead and let her sleep as much as she needs. And because of that, it's been on my body clock to wake up early, even on weekends, but just an hour later than the usual.
We are a big western breakfast eater - bacon, eggs, hams and hotdogs, rice, hashbrowns and vegan pancakes. I would also prepare vegetable stir fry and baked or fried fish for RJ because he ought to be a pescatarian. He wanted to be a vegetarian because he doesn't want to eat animals, even those that are still eggs, he's compassionate that way. Although he was very insistent about it, of course we didn't let him. He's a growing boy, he needs his proteins. So instead, thanks to the late Steve Jobs whom he admires so much, he learned that he can be a pescatarian - he can eat fish, he said, fishes have good amount of proteins and other special nutrients that are not in beef or pork or chicken, and then he said that there are a lot of fish in the sea so it is not so bad to eat fish.
"Ngoood O'rning, ahh'te," RJ greeted me this morning while still yawning. He is used to waking up early too.
"Morning," I greeted back, smiling at how adorable he looked. His hair was everywhere. He was wearing a miss-matched, top and bottom, of his spongebob and dragonball pajamas. He was also wearing his big, fluffy, frog-faced slippers.
As a form of habit, he sat on his usual spot in our breakfast table, I poured him hot choco that I prepared, then I pinched his nose. He hated it but he let me do it every morning anyway.
"Ate, I was wondering.." he started while blowing his cup of hot choco, his face, still sleepy, "when did human beings started eating animals?"
I was bemused at the question. I know for a fact that my little brother is the number one client of Google Incorporated. Annoying sometimes, but mostly adorable, RJ asks a lot, like a bazillion of questions. There are funny ones, some are puzzling, and there are those that scares me a bit, when he asks unfiltered questions. He's not lewd, or rude, he still have his innocence but he sure is very curious about a lot of things.
Despite myself, while separating strips of raw bacons, I answered, "Well, when the first humans started getting hungry, they ate animals."
He wasn't convinced, "That's it? They just decided, oh, let's try this meaty living thing, they are maybe food."
I just laughed. But I was expecting more questions to come.
"Humans are wild animals. And I know that there are people who eat human beings too. They are called cannibals. They eat human beings raw, how could they do that?"
I was stumped, I almost dropped the thong I was holding, "How did you get access to that gruesome information? Who have you been talking to?"
"No one. Ate, I'm already 9 years old, I have access to everything."
He doesn't. We have parental controls over his internet access. But he's smart and he thinks his a big boy now. Well, quite, he is. But to me he is still a little baby.
"Here. Why don't you eat your breakfast while you think of your cannibals. Eat it while it is still raw hot." I put in front of him his breakfast plate that I pre-prepared.
He scrunched up his face, "Errkk! You are a gruesome, ate." Then he started nibbling on his veggies, "But the crazy thing is, there are still cannibals in this time. Like in a far far away tribe. I think your P.E coach is one of them."
I was baffled, "Huh? P.E coach?"
"Yea. The one, you know, who's always sweating. I overheard him one time when I was waiting for you outside the gym, he was talking to some basketball guys. He said, he would dream every lunch break that one day he will eat Ate Cece," he said innocently with a broccoli in his mouth.
I dropped the thong, "RJ!" I exclaimed. But then I suddenly realised, my little brother was incognizant to what he just said.
"What?" he protested.
"I mean -- didn't I tell you, eavesdropping is bad?" I retracted.
"I wasn't eavesdropping, his voice echoed in the hallway. Anyway, I think, even though cannibals are the worst, eating animals is still half as bad. I mean, animals have a life! They get scared too. Did you know that in China, they eat dogs? They even have a dog meat market! Errk! I can't even imagine."
While the bacon was cooking, I poured him a glass of fresh guava juice to go with his breakfast, another form of habit, "Would you stop talking about gruesome things this early in the morning? If Steve Jobs hears you, he'll be very upset."
Steve Jobs, as RJ named our labrador, came in from the living room, "See? Now, he's aware. You're talking behind his back," I snapped fondly.
Our dog laid flat on the floor beside RJ. "Don't worry Steve Jobs, when I get a little older, I'll do something about your family in China. And I'll tell the people of the world to stop-eating-animals!"
"He's not even Chinese!" I countered humorly.
"Still, there are labradors in China. And you, big sister, on my next birthday, I will ask mama to buy me a pig that I can pet. So you'll feel bad about eating bacon!"
I couldn't help but take it as a humor. Sure, one day, he'll understand that he can't just force people to stop eating whatever they want, he was never rudely forceful anyway. But I worry that in the near future, he'll be some kind of an extreme advocate, doing hunger strikes in front of the United Nations building.
I guess that is why I like Cece so much, she, like my little brother, have an incredible amount of compassion. In a way, she's become my little sister too. Even though she's three weeks older than me, she has this natural innocence in her that is so pure just like RJ. That's why it hurts just as much to see her hurting like this, shaking, crying her heart out. RJ cried once like this when he was six, his pet, Froggie, died. It felt like my heart was being crushed by a bulldozer as he hid his face on my chest, bawling. So despite being uncomfortable right now, kneeling in front of Cece so we can hug, I just let her be.
My dress is probably covered by her make up now. Even tho Cece is very pretty without make up, tonight, when she entered the royal entrance of the grand ballroom and the light illuminated her, she was breathtaking, captivating, enchanting, and just spell-bidingly beautiful. I heared a chorus of gasps from literally everyone. Cece was oblivious to it, of course. It is so ironic that she hates being the center of attention yet she commands attention. Everytime she enters the classroom, no one could help but look, peer, or just glance at her. Tonight, she was the brightest star, a fairytale, the butterfly princess. I felt a little a jealous, honestly. Not for the attention, but for how good her makeup was with the glittery thing on the sides of her eyes, her eye shadows and her cheeks, she was sparkling too. For the first time, everything about her looks are on point, perfectly matched and done.
Not that I care about makeup. I don't really. After breakfast this morning, while all the girls are definitely filling up all the salons and beauty spas in the city, I went to an auto repair shop knowing full well that I was going to be covered in grease.
Our house is in an exclusive, lakefront, gated community in the south of the metro. It is set-up in a rolling hill land, so the houses are on different heights. Outside our high-tech gate, is a hilly walking park, it is where I pass through with my bicycle to go up the main highway. It used to be an abandoned lot, but since it is quite an eyesore, the developer of our lakefront community bought it and turned it into a park. Now it has a gazebo, a fountain, a small play area and the best of it all, it is covered of daffodils and dandelions, my two most favorite flowers.
Every weekend, after breakfast, since I was 11, I would bike up to the main highway where Mang Kanor's Auto Repair Shop is located. Because of my late father, I grew interest in car mechanics and pretty much everything about cars.
"Mecky!" Mang Kanor excitedly greeted me as I parked my bicycle in his garage earlier this afternoon.
"Mang Kanor, good morning po."
I walked towards him inside the Client Lounge, excitement masked his face. He does less of mechanics and repairs nowadays, so he was clean, wearing his flannel polo and khaki pants. The growth of his business doubled the growth of white hairs in his head and the lines in his face was not only from aging but, I reckon, from too many business stuff to do. He is still well built tho and can carry tires and other heavy stuff.
"You wouldn't believe who we have for you today!"
"Huh? Who, who is it?" I couldn't help but get excited as he was.
"Listen, a 1973 Datsun 240z."
My excitement surged up. I'm less a fan of Japan made than European or American cars, but Japanese cars do have their unique charm. "No way! Really? Where is he?" I said, ecstatic.
"Bay 5. The boys are waiting for you there."
I know, Mang Kanor have grown fond of me. He used to think I was a pesky little girl, going around his then three garage auto repair shop. It was dangerous for a kid like me, especially that I am a girl, he would complain. Now, he has twelve garage bay and several high-profile clients, and with my mother's approval, he let me work there part time too, just every weekend.
I couldn't help it, I grew up in my late father's auto repair shop, he thought me everything he knows and a lot of it stuck with me, I became pretty good at it too. Since dad passed away, being in an auto repair shop, surrounded by cars, hoists, tools and broken engines, somehow made me feel closer to him.
"Mecky! You'd love who we have today!" kuya Denmark, one of the mechanics, greeted me as excitedly as Mang Kanor did.
We chorused in excitement, "A 1973 Datsun 240z!" Then we both laughed.
"I know. Where is he?" I scampered towards Bay 5. "No way! That's mint! Neat, wow." I was in pure awe.
"Mecky! See? Sexy, right?" kuya France, kuya Denmark's brother, exclaimed as he came in to Bay 5 as well. Their two other brothers, kuya Norway and kuya Finland followed next, then kuya Roger, their same age uncle also arrived in the scene.
"This is sick," I said thrilled while circling the car. As with Korean manufacturers like Hyundai or Kia, Japanese in the 60s and 70s were ruthless when it came to making you buy their cars. They would reverse engineer the competition and then offer the same thing, with similar styling, better features, more extras, better build quality, more power (the list goes on) for the same or less than you were paying for your western car. And the Datsun 240z was shamelessly pinched from the styling of a Ferrari GTO.
"Wait 'til you see it inside. The engine, whew! RB30 bottom end, RB25 head, then carbs and big cams! Insane," kuya Roger opened the hood for me and I saw a glimmering mint nissan engine. I thought, the owner loves his speed. We all looked at the engine as if it were made of gold.
There are 27 mechanics in the shop now, but the five of them were some of the first eight. So I grew the closest to them, but also because we all have the same fascination about classic cars and muscle cars, just about every cool car, really.
"Hey, isn't it that some weekend this month, you have that ball, party thing at school?" kuya Finland asked while taking off his rubber shoes, as they all prepared to change in their uniforms.
I was still gaping at the engine, "Yea, tonight," I respond nonchalant. I glanced in their direction and all their heads suddenly turned to me, surprised then baffled.
"Then why are you here?" asked kuya Denmark, followed by kuya Norway, "Aren't you supposed to be in a salon or something?"
I snorted, "What? Be surrounded by makeup? Hold a lipstick and a hair dryer? I'd rather be covered in grease." They laughed along with me.
Truthfully, I have no disdain over the girly things. I just had no reason to like it too. Aside from growing up, tinkering around in my dad's auto repair shop, I also grew up in a ranch, surrounded by horses, cattles, sheeps, and even chickens. I used to follow my dad wherever he went, as a result, I was a rugged ranch girl when I was little.
But tonight I tried something different. I guess, I was a little inspired by Cece. Like me, she's not fond of the girly things too. She is ok by the way she looks, but of course, she's a natural beauty. I started having pimples on my forehead four years back, so I began to at least have some nightly face regimen.
Recently, I noticed Cece started wearing lip shimmer. Then, a couple of times, she came to class with her hair braided beautifully. Then, her wardrobe changed, she wore more flowy flowery dresses lately. I teased her one time and asked her why she was changing her appearance, she responded that it was because she is in-love.
For some weeks now, I just fell madly in love too. So I thought, I should wear pink tonight.
"Mecky, sorry," Cece pulls out from our hug. She tries to wipe her tears with the back of her hands, smudging a bit of her make-up.
"No, Cece. I'm here, always. We're here," I try to re-assure her and as I expected she bursts into crying again.
"Cece, what happened? What did he do?" Balong asks. There is anger in his voice but I can sense he tried to be as gentle.
Cece looks up at Balong. I feel pained as she tries to breathe between her sobs, she looks like RJ when he losts Froggie. Then she looks at me again, "He's gone. It's over." Then she bursts into a more painful cry. I hug her again.
I am confused but somehow getting an idea. I saw couple of days back, in this same hallway, Cece's father and Teacher Kim, talking. One was very upset while the other looked heartbroken.
I want to tell her it is going to be ok. But I know, no broken-hearted person would ever believe that. I didn't when everybody told me it is going to be ok, that I'm gonna be fine after my father died. And despite not believing it, I told my mom the same thing too. We're all fine now, of course, but it took a very long while, years even, before everything became a little bit ok, just a little bit.
I sit beside Cece and hugs her tighter. I know it is the best thing I could only do at this very moment. I try to caress her back but it comes with a little difficulty because of her braided hair. There are flowers and butterflies clipped in it. I remember, my dad used to braid my hair too, it was the only girly thing we ever did.
My mom do have a little talent with hair and makeup. When I was a kid, she would let me sit on her lap while we were out on the porch in the late afternoon, and she would brush my hair. It was very relaxing. She would also fix it in different hairstyles, that I would ruin or pull out when my dad arrived home from the auto shop and we would do ranching or just play rascal.
I thought going to salon was too much for tonight's event so I asked Mother Mercy to do me a little glam up for the Yuletide Ball. My mom is not fancy or anything, in fact, I think I got my keen simplicity from her. She was a farm girl before she became a ranch girl too. But since she is now working for the highest ranking person in the cargo company, she had to make herself look 'executively', with neat brows, fine makeup and a red lipstick.
They say I look a lot like her, which I don't complain about, my mom is pretty. Despite her age and what she's been through, she always have had a youthful appearance, a shy beauty that matches her personality, as well as her voice. She has always been life smart, like she had many life experiences but not really, she is observant and perceptive, but nonetheless, there is still an air of innocence in her.
"Just do me simple, Ma, ok? No red lipstick," I said as I sat at her makeup table in her dressing room earlier today.
She giggles, "I don't think red would match your gown, anak."
I looked at the pink gown neatly hanging by the wall, I was suddenly unsure about it. I wondered if I can really wear it, "I'm not sure now. It's so.. pink."
"You're the one who picked it out. You've tried it, you looked beautiful in it, anak."
I sighed heavy, recalling the reason why I chose this gown and in this color. I looked at the mirror again, then my mom started doing her makeup magic to my boring face.
"So, anak, do you have a date to the ball?" she asked casually.
I shrugged without care. I saw my mom's expression saying I was being silly.
"Mecky, you know you can tell me," she affirms.
I know. Despite what happened after my dad's death, my relationship with her remained as good as it can be. It is still easy for me to talk to her even about some personal stuff about my life.
"Well, there is this guy at school.." I started, trying not to make it into anything special.
"A guy? Already? Not a boy in high school?"
Now, she's being silly, "Ma.. Yes, there are still boys in high school, a lot of them! But I don't like boys. They're too.. stupid."
She laughed, her eyes made an expression telling me she understood me, not because of what I said but something else that I meant. "Anak, if you are still looking for a guy as perfect as your dad, I'm sorry, but I was the first and only girl to have ever been that lucky."
We both laughed, "Selfish!" I sneered fondly.
"So, what about this guy?" she persisted. This time I looked like a caricature in the mirror, with all these pre-makeup bases thingy.
"He asked me to be his date to the ball," I answered casually. She stopped, Mother Mercy was shocked.
"Mecky!" her face lit up, "that is so.. romantic."
She was being silly, I thought, "Ma, he just asked. Like a normal person would. Nothing special about it."
She shooked her head like I was being unbelievable. "You said yes, of course, didn't you?"
"Mother! Aren't you supposed be protective of me, like keep me away from dangerous men in this world?"
"I'm afraid, that position has been filled, by Mr. Ricardo Juancho Herher Jr. no less, the little guy downstairs." We both laughed at her reference.
"Speaking of, that little guy? In his most domineering way, said 'No' for me. He said, No! YOU cannot date my sister. Not while I'm still alive."
"He didn't! Of course, he did. But really, Mecky, what did you say?"
"I said, I'll think about it."
"What? Why? He's ugly? You don't like him?"
I shook my head, trying to come up with words to negate her questions but I couldn't get to anything close to what I really wanted to say. "He's, complicated," I said instead.
She smiled in agreement, "When I was in high school, everything was complicated. So.. you don't have a date?"
I was hesitant but I answered anyway, "Well, I've thought about it. And he's picking me up later tonight."
She didn't respond back and just gave me a meaningful smile. Half an hour later, I looked in the mirror again, and I didn't look boring anymore. My brows were in better shape, my skin was flawless, I have false eyelashes which was very disturbing, my eyes looked alive and my lips were in shimmering pink. Damn! I thought I was beautiful too.
"So, what do you want with your hair? Do you want me to.. braid you?" My eyes met with my mom's, suddenly there was an air of awkwardness between us.
"No. Ahm. Nothing too fancy. Just lay it like this, maybe?"
"Ok. Maybe, just a little fix?"
"Ya, ok. A little."
"This is why I hate shakespeare! and Gosling! Cakes with white frostings, two names in a heart-shaped tattoo! Love is stupid!" Balong barks with growing impatience, it disrupted me out of my recollection of earlier events.
"Shoosh, Balong!" I snap at him. Cece's sobs starts slowing down.
"You shouldn't have trusted him, Cece! You shouldn't have trusted everything he said! All promises in the name of love are big, fat, LIES. Love is like a blowjob, it's awesome for the receiver, but later? The giver will get a nasty surprise and he won't even tell you. Never trust those kind of jerks!"
"Balong!" I snap at him harder.
But deep inside, I don't fully disagree with him. My dad, as I regard, was the perfect man to fall in love with. I saw how much she loved my mom. I heard all of his promises of forever, that he will show her how much he loves her every single day. But then he died, and my mom broke into a thousand pieces.
"He's right," despite her throat drying up, Cece tries to talk. "It was stupid of me to fall for this. That we have a chance. That we are possible."
I try to wipe off some glitters in her lashes, lucky her, she didn't need to wear a false one, "You are.." I affirm. "You had a chance. You still have. You are alive, Cece. That's your chance to make things possible."
This time, she is no longer sobbing, I think she also ran out of tears. She stares at me, like she wants to believe me. I meant what I said.
"Pfffft! What!? You want her to come running to that asshole?!" Balong snarles, "No, Cece! You are a genius. Use your brain! There are plenty of cocks in the sea!"
I try to ignore Balong's lewd comment, I think Cece did too as she lowers her head. I think for a moment, while I meant what I said to her, I know my advice will not work for me. Even if I try to make it work, I know my heart will be broken too. Very soon.
"He's here," my mom beamed while she helped me settle in my gown earlier this evening. I wasn't sure if I'm excited but I did feel some butterflies in my belly. Or maybe, they were worms. I don't know.
I looked in the mirror and I couldn't believe what I saw. I was a woman. And it felt like I've known her all my life, only just now that I've met her.
"Oh my, anak. You're beautiful." Mother Mercy stood behind me, almost tearing up.
"I guess... Do I, really?"
My mom leaned in closer, clipped her hands on both sides of my shoulders and rested her face on the side of mine, "If your dad could see you right now, he'd cry."
I scrunched my face, "I actually thought Dad never cries."
"Oh, your dad is a big cryer. He cries a lot, especially on the accounts of you. He cries when he recalls how happy you've been during the day."
I felt queasy, but also something fluttered in my heart hearing this new fact about my dad. It was only a couple of months ago that I learned that Dad was a cryer.
"Interesting. As a kid, I've only seen him laughed and being funny."
My mom just smiled, reminiscent, "Anyway, let's not keep your date waiting any longer. And you know, even though the little one downstairs is scared to hold a knife and he despised the existence of guns, but he does asks a lot of questions."
I chuckled, "Even deadlier." We both laughed. Interestingly enough, I just realised our laughs sounded the same.
I walked carefully and slowly towards the stairs. I wasn't preparing for a grand, cinematic walk-down-the-stairs, but I am, for the fifth time in my entire life, wearing heels. I practiced the entire week walking on these heels. It was awful, I almost opted for my favorite run-down, overused sneakers. But the boys at the auto shop dared me to man up and just wear the damn heels.
My mom went down first so that she could see me walking down the stairs and capture it in camera. Mothers. It was really awkward, even more so because RJ was standing in front of my date like the great wall of China.
"Wow, Mecky. I'm speechless," my dashing, handsome date said.
"Then why are you speaking now?" RJ interjected. We all laughed, except the little one.
"You're not bad yourself, Blue."
***********
(Apologies)
I do not mean any racial or cultural harm or to offend people about the 'Chinese dog meat market' reference. I respect the Chinese people. I am, however, a dog lover just as much as RJ is and we both feel bad about some news where dogs are slaughtered and sold in meat markets in China.
(Minor Filipino words translation)
Anak - noun. means child or an endearment for son / daughter
Ate - noun. means big sister / older sister
Kuya - noun. means big brother, often referred to older boys as well even if you're not family related
Mang (Mang Kanor) - common noun means Sir or Mister, often referred to an older man
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