BET ON ME / MOISES & LISETTE
@amaranthine-d
The city was coming together in lieu of the Christmas season. Halloween had come and gone, as with the decorations that scared and frightened; and now, the city was instead filled with bright lights, glorious wonder. It was a beautiful sight to see, and a great reminder of Moises’ second home as how he liked to remember it: with great big lights, with children running from street to street and singing, with presents and presents and presents at every corner. The streets of Boston during Christmastime were nothing compared to that of the Philippines’, but they were as close as Moises could get at the moment. This was as close to the feeling, as close to home, as close to belonging somewhere other than here, as he could get.
His friends did not understand this meaning of home — of being torn and belonging to two countries instead of one, and yet belonging to none at all —, and they did not come with the memories of Moises’ childhood on Manila streets, barefooted and dirty and happy. They did not see things like he did when it came to these; they did not appreciate the lights as much as he did. But little did Moises mind. As he sat with a group of his friends from the Aeviternity in a bar that they frequented, it almost felt as though he had a little secret with the lights that surrounded them, and the lights out there in the streets. It almost felt as though he were experiencing something greater than his friends were, as they did not carry the same joy of Christmastime — the proximity of it — in their hearts.
Still, their laughter was whole, merry. Work was over, and the night was young; Christmas was near, as were Christmas bonuses, and the drinks and the women that came with these. Everything was right in the world — and, even if they weren’t, a few drinks and a good lay would help ease the problem. Take Kevin Jones here, for example, who had marital issues but was not willing to let that weigh him down as he chugged and chugged and chugged drink after drink after drink. If anything, his laughter was the loudest among the group; he needed to laugh, or so his head would explode.
As the night went on, so did the laughter and the conversation. Drinks were ordered, words were said, and one particular woman stood out among the rest.
Moises hadn’t immediately noticed her to begin with; this was the truth. The city lights had engulfed him so, and then the conversation had him locked down that he had not had the time to gaze elsewhere. It was only when his friends had mentioned her, and how she had been sitting on the bar by herself the entire time since she’d arrived, that Moises noticed. And, indeed, he noticed. She was a pretty thing, from what he could see; but sad, too, as what Moises could notice. Though he could only see a portion of her face, it was obvious that the frown she wore had been stapled there since the beginning. Had she been with someone else, maybe Moises would not have taken such intent notice of these things even at an inebriated state.
But she was alone, and sometimes, men were men who noticed.
Moises’ friends took notice too, and soon bets were going around as to which one of them could make her frown disappear, take her home, and be done with it. Their voices were hushed now, quiet; men were as men were sometimes, and they just didn’t make sense. It was worse when they were drunk, worse when they’d had more than their fair share of drinks, as they blurted out things they would later regret but at the moment live up to.
It was at one point that Moises said, “Bet I can make her fall in love with me, too.” To this, his friends hooted and cheered, patted him on the back, and watched him as he approached the woman with the frown.
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