“Dear lord, there’s another one of them.” I rolled my eyes in exasperation as I brought out a cassette tape from my locker.
“That marks the fourth cassette you’ve gotten this month,” Pepe said as he snatched it from my hand. “Big question is: Who the hell is sending these?”
“No, the big question is: How on earth do they keep on breaking into my locker? I’ve been changing locks, and yet they can still break in!” I fought the urge to pull at the hair on my head.
“Is there a note this time?”
“It’s taped on the other side.” He flipped the tape.
“I can’t find the words to tell you just how much you make my heart swell everytime you smile. Let me use these songs to express my love for you,” He laughed. “Damn, you’ve got a lovesick fool on your hands!”
“Shut up, Pepe. People are gonna hear you!” I hissed as I snatched the tape from him. He raised his hands in surrender.
“Dude, chill.”
“Someone might hear you and make fun of me, dammit. As if I don’t get enough ridicule for being a cripple.”
“Sorry.” I shrugged.
“Damage’s done. Let’s just hope no one heard.”
“Look, dude, I’m really sorry.”
“I know,” I closed my locker. “I have to go. I have English next.”
“Let me wheel you to class,” I swatted away his hands from the handles of my wheelchair. “Ow!”
“Your class is at the opposite wing, Pepe. I think I can manage to go to class alone. Besides, I know you’ve got Jo waiting for you,” He gave me a little salute before running off. I rotated my wheelchair towards the east wing.
I wheeled myself towards my next class, keeping my eyes on the pavement to avoid the huge cracks. From a distance, swiftly approaching were a bunch of rowdy track boys. They seemed to not have noticed me, so I tried my best to avoid them by wheeling myself to the side.
After running past me, I let out a breath I was holding. Relieved that I got out unscathed, I continued to wheel myself to class, only to notice that my world was tilted to an angle and my right wheel wasn’t budging.
“Damn it.” My wheel was stuck in the damp soil.
I wanted to ask for help, screw my introvert self, but the crowd in the hallways at these hours is shit.
“Need help?” A strong wave of masculine cologne wafted through my nose.
“Yes.”
“Hold on tight. I’ll pull you out.” I tightened my grip on the armrests as he pulled me out from the soil.
“Thank you.” I came face-to-face with a flustered Emilio Aguinaldo, the so-called king of the school.
“Don’t mention it. Were you on your way to English?” I nodded softly, “Let me wheel you to class.”
I tried to protest, but he already had his hands on the handles, giving me a stern look. I raised my hands in surrender.
We reached the classroom, only to find out that our teacher was absent.
“Well there goes my Friday.” I muttered.
“Do you have anywhere else to be?”
“No.”
“Then I have a proposition to make. Since we’re partners on Mrs. Ticzon’s written expression, I suggest we start working on it now. The deadline’s still far away but I want to get things done before the upcoming football game.”
“Do we really have to work on it together? I can do all the work, it wouldn’t be a bother.”
“I may be on the football team but I’m not an airhead like the others. So, my house?”
“Do I have a choice?” What the hell am I getting myself into?
“None else that I can think of.”
He wheeled me to the parking lot and we took his car. I told him I could seat myself on the shotgun seat, but he insisted that he carry me in. My usual biting remarks have suddenly dissolved into thin air.
For a jock, he had a really classy car, venturing away from the stereotypical pick-up trucks.
“Would you mind if I played music?”
“No.” He cast me a sideway glance before inserting a cassette tape in the system.
“You’re really not into talking, huh? Doesn’t seem like it when you’re with Pepe,” I averted my gaze to avoid his.
The first guitar riff of the first song on his tape sounded familiar and I found myself humming along. Unlike me, Emilio was singing loud enough for me to hear.
“Ilang awit pa ba ang aawitin, o giliw ko? Ilang ulit pa ba ang uulitin, o giliw ko? Tatlong oras na akong nagpapacute sa iyo, di mo man lang napapansin ang bagong t-shirt ko,” He must have noticed me humming along. “You know this song?”
“Yes.”
“Sagutin mo lang ako, aking sinta'y walang humpay,” He looked at me expectantly. I succumbed.
“O ligaya, at asahang iibigin ka, sa tanghali, sa gabi at umaga. Wag ka sanang magtanong at magduda, dahil ang puso ko'y walang pangamba na tayo'y mabubuhay na tahimik at buong ligaya.”
We settled into a comfortable routine of singing and/or humming along to the songs, and it surprised me that I knew eveything in his playlist. They were a bit too sentimental for my taste, but I wasn’t in any position to say something about it, was I?
“This is what real music is. Soft to the ear but striking to the heart,” I stopped humming. “Sorry, that weirded you out, didn’t it?”
“Not at all. I happen to know all of the songs you have on your playlist.”
“Yeah?” I nodded. “How? You don’t strike me as someone who likes this genre of music. You’re more of the classical kind of person, I think?”
“Fair enough. But uh, I know them from these tapes I’ve been receiving the past two months.” I brought out the cassette from earlier this day.
“Gifts from Pepe?”
“No. He may splurge on all his girls, but he’s a cheapskate with his friends,” I thought about how he was going to react before continuing. Would he laugh at me? Think that a cripple like me was too ambitious? “An admirer leaves one in my locker once a week.”
“You know who it is?” The car stopped in front of a massive house. “We’re here,”
He brought me out of the car and we were met by one of their maids. He gave her his keys and asked her to prepare snacks. I was taken aback by how big his parents’ house was, all the muebles and paintings lavishly decorating the place. He wheeled me into the dining room.
“We can start with the project after we’ve eaten. How does that saying go again? You can’t function on an empty stomach?”
“I believe so.”
“Alright then, back to our previous discussion?” Dammit, I thought he’d forgotten.
“No, I don’t know who she is.”
“She? What made you think your admirer is a girl?”
“Nothing, it’s what first came into mind.”
“Would you entertain it if it’s a guy?”
“Well, aren’t we getting a bit too snoopy?” He just shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. But if anything, he or she has got great taste in music. I think I can bend the rules for that,” I stopped.
“Why am I even telling you all this?”
“Don’t know with you. This is the first time you’ve said more than three words to me, so I’m just basking in it.”
“This isn’t the first time we’ve talked?”
“No. We talk in English, or at least I talk to you in English.”
“When?”
“Borrowed your pen, asked you about the homework, asked what words rhyme with smile, asked you if you were done with the exam, asked what words rhyme with you.”
“And you remember all that?”
“…Yes?”
“Huh. You must have an eidetic memory.” He looked like he was fighting the urge to smack his face with his hand.
The maid came in with a tray of puto bumbong, bibingka, and tea. We ate in silence before working on the written expression. The topic was about love, and I couldn’t think of anything more awkward than two straight guys doing this.
We agreed to make the composition an interconnected anthology of poems of admiration. For a jock who looked like he doesn’t give a single damn about education, he’s beyond brilliant. Never have I read such poetic artistry spontaneously made in front of me. I felt insufficient because I don’t know jack about falling in love, so I had to make do with what little I know and interlace it with deep words.
“I can’t do this. I’m shit at this.”
“Not true. You’re the best student in English. This is just a piece of the proverbial cake for you!”
“I don’t know anything about this!”
To set the mood, and according to him, to help me get inspiration, he blasted music from his boombox. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t help, even just a little.
“Think about those sappy movies they show all the time. That usually works.”
On repeated instances, I caught him staring at me, and my mind just went on full-on defense mode. I kept quiet, but I swear I’ve ran him over with my wheelchair a couple times, thinking he was judging my inability to write as beautiful as he could.
I really don’t know why I was paired up with him. I don’t like his guts, to begin with. I don’t even talk to him unless it’s necessary.
We finished by 8 o'clock and he drove me home. He wheeled me to the front door because the pavement leading to it proved moving a chore if I did it alone.
“Thanks for finishing the project with me today. Really appreciate it. English is the only subject I really do well in.”
“No biggie. My grade depends on it, too, so it’s a win-win situation.” We fell into a moment of silence. I didn’t know what else to say and he just had his hands in the pockets of his jacket, staring down at his feet.
“Well, I really have to go now. My parents might worry if I stay out longer. Thanks again, Mabini.” I was about to open the door when I thought about my manners. My mother would be rabid if she found out I didn’t at least bid him goodbye and thank him for driving me home.
“Thanks for driving me,” I turned my head towards him, only to be met with his warm lips on mine. His eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets. It was the last thing I saw before he pulled away and ran to his car. “home,”
“What the fuck just happened?” I whispered to myself as I watched him speed away on his car.
I stand corrected. This is more awkward than two male acquaintances working on a project about love.
If only my face didn’t feel warm as it did now.
The door opened to reveal my mother.
“Thank heavens you’re home! If you were gone for another hour, we would have called the police!” I just stared at her. “Well? Who was that who brought you home?”
“A friend? I’m not entirely sure?”
“You’re not sure?” I shook my head. “Never mind. At least you’re home. Now get inside, you’ll catch a cold out there.”
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