Namotivate ako ni @girl-in-a-well nang block screening. Let's go.
"Ba't ang tagal mo?"
Enteng Enriquez grumbles in her ear. She can detect the smell of cigarettes and fresh towels off him. It clings to his tousled hair, the muscled curve of his arm, the cloth of his jeans.
She can make out in the darkness the shadow of his form looming behind her. Her new leather jacket, the tightness of the bun holding her hair on the back of her head - and the pristine cut of her gloves.
So Adela cranes her head. She stares at the delectable delicacy resting in his hand. Under more normal circumstances she would have laughed to herself at its shape.
It looks like a fucking penis.
But she hears it - the tap of the rain against the shed roof, the walls around her and him.
Neither of them move.
He doesn't lean closer, but he shifts his hands towards his chest. It makes him look thrice as irritable. In another life, Adela would have found him handsome.
(They're closer in age. But not in temperament.)
His brother will remain superior to him.
"Babe, you'd have to get through Matanglawin first." She cajoles, a song. "I do not keep the likes of your brother for trivial matters such as assassins." She pauses.
"Like yourself."
This isn't their first dance. First one: Tondo, with her henchmen. Miong had given the order, Oriang needed backup.
And then it became like this: a weird cacophony of the mundane and the shadowy part of her life. The Reyes organization was not as big as the Bonifacio one, but they had teeth even if Manolo had deserted them for Aguinaldo.
Suddenly, she was eating bananacue under the sun, while she kept tabs on him and Agila.
Enteng's ears pink slightly. It isn't enough to wipe the cranky look off his face. He scowls and tilts his head.
"Ubos na yung pandinda ni Aling Tims. Kunin mo na."
She glances at the bananacue.
"Are you going to hold this against me?" She narrows her eyes. This looks like a terrible decision. She exhales.
Her hands remain by her sides, and she could feel her face flush and her heart beat fast. One of them lazily inch a bit closer towards his.
For a minute, she feels like she was normal and young, too.
Not someone who carried too much. Not someone who dipped her fingers in blood.
Enriquez technically was an enemy...
"Kunin mo na." He puts his free hand in his pocket.
She envied his economy of movement. He might be one of Miong's footsoldiers but at least he had freedom.
She takes the wrapped bananacue.
Her glove-covered hands peel the plastic off the bananacue. This one is not too burned and not raw - just right.
She takes a small bite; the sweetness greets her first.
And for the first time in ten years, she feels a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
That’s what gets him, and he realizes it a little later. Not too late really, but late enough to make him want to smack himself upside the head. Of course it’s her laugh. All the other parts of her are good too, but it’s her laugh that draws him close, beckons his hands to her face, his lips to hers, foreheads pressed together, skin against skin, hot breaths sweetly mingling in a small dance just before the little space between their noses.
It’s her laugh, and he finds he could not fall any further.
He’s already in orbit. With her at the center.
@hotaryu this is probably more flash fiction than drabble OTL” apologies
The Natural Phenomenon of Reincarnation Part I: Her
Her
Summary: She saw him today, at Intramuros, her ex. Reincarnation AU! Based on the theory that I was Mrs. Enriquez at a past life.
She saw him today, at Intramuros, her ex.
Her ex, with his glasses and newly-cut short hair, his hand tucked in one pocket; he looked up from where he was looking at the flowers nearby the winding road leading to Fort Santiago. Saw his lips curve, when he turned to look at her, her hair windblown and her face bare.
His face was constant, almost unchanged by the flicker of time and its memories and its haziness, the serpentine cycle that dragged her in its depths and tried to swallow her whole. Still the same brown eyes, still the very youthful features that were untouched by the wallow of lost glories. Still the same old lips that had kissed hers in this lifetime and the previous one. The previous one, she thought with a shudder, which he loved to talk about great animation.
It had been two years since she had last seen of him. Two years when, she was the girl who could light the room up with her smile, or drift off into her own world while the rest of the world would move in its own pace, of the cigarette smells and factories and political ruins and the shit that made the world go on. They had met at some convenience store, an unlikely place to fall in love, and even back then, she supposed he had been like that always.
That stupid smile, that stupid laugh on his face, the dimples that creased his face, or how he leaned forward to her whenever they talked face-to-face. The small nervous laughs he would throw off, when they were discussing certain topics. Stupid, stupid little Vince Enriquez, the dork he was, always coming up to her with those smiles and those little things that made her stomach lurch.
There were many things she hated of him, the little idiot he was. Who would think that Addie Reyes, the photographer and poet and writer, had the balls to hate on someone? She was the girl everyone thought could laugh anything off, with a straight face, the girl who could think her way into nothingness, the one who danced in the rain while sporting her earphones. Yet she nursed her own demons, as she continued to walk day by day, the camera under her hands, as she dove into the daily grind of life.
He was clutching something with his other hand, and she came up to him. Together, she wondered how they looked. His face was what others would call “baby-faced”, young-looking, while she was what others called “chinita”, all fair-skinned with squinty eyes. She was petite; he was lean, not too thin.
“Oh, Addie.”
“Hi, Vince.” She tried to smile. Her throat tightened, yet her lips managed to form her attempt at a grin.
“Para pala sa iyo.”
He held out a jasmine flower, and she reluctantly let him place the flower into her hands. She felt his eyes on her, on the cord that held her camera, hanging from her neck.
“So photographer ka pa rin pala, hanggang ngayon.”
“Oo naman.” She held the flower to her nose and smelled it. It smelled nice. Why would you give your ex a flower? Unless he was actually a player underneath that easy smile and easy laugh and stupid dimples, and those gentle hands. “Eh, ikaw?”
Vince laughed. That stupid, stupid laugh. His laugh was also constant as the sun. Back then, years ago, under the light of a hot sun, and they had been in the fields, while the sun set, he laughed the same laugh.
“Mas maayos ngayong mga araw.”
“Good for you,” she snipped in. “What are you up to these days, anyway? Mukhang nasa good mood ka ngayon, ah.” Mhm, his forearms were more lean. Was he working out now?
“Ah, nagpupunta na kasi ako sa gym. Medyo naglifestyle change ako.”
Well, he definitely had grown leaner.
“Eh, kamusta gitara mo?”
His smile just got stupider by the minute. Oh, how she was hating it right now. He had to grin at her, as if nothing happened between them. She hated how when he smiled, she was stuck in the maze of memories that befell them.
Kisses exchanged under the light of the moon. Holding hands. Kissing under the rain. Stolen moments under the blankets. The warmth of his arm pressing against hers, when they used to commute together, in the MRT, from Pedro Gil, Makati, to Cubao. The list of memories could go on and on.
Older memories still: the intense fervent vows exchanged, rings put on fingers, a kiss by the window, while lips parting. The crying of a baby, married glances exchanged from across the room. Lining up for family photos, calling for names of several children. Heated looks, warm touches.
These much older, remnants of the older past were what she and Vince had had. A fleeting moment, of passion, revival of those old times.
“Buhay na buhay pa. Mga tula mo?”
She wanted to say, because of you, they’re still very much alive, thank you very much, pakyu. Instead, she glanced at him because she didn’t want to make this complicated.
And she nodded.
“Na-miss kita.” Vince’s voice was wistful.
She laughed.
“Ano naman ang namiss mo sa akin?”
“Mga pinagsasabi mo sa akin, Addie.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yung mga long convo natin hanggang umaga.”
“Sige, long convo tayo ngayon.” She eyed the flower again. “Isang tanong, mahabang, mahabang sagot. Gusto mo ikaw magtanong, kasi ako naman ang namimiss mo?”
Vince nodded.
“Sige. Okay na okay, sa akin. Okay. Suppose end of the world na, sino ang una mong sasagipin?”
She snorted.
“E di, sarili ko.”
Vince raised a brow.
“Ambilis non, ah.”
“Eh, ikaw?” She held the flower up to her nose again to smell it. She was winning here, and he did not know it. The flower smelled sweet, just like the old days.
He took a long time to answer. There was a long pregnant pause.
“Ikaw pa rin.”
Her throat hurt all the more.
What a useless attempt to draw out an actual conversation with him, her ex. Raffy would’ve just laughed and kissed her on her neck and then put his arm around her shoulder and try to make amends. He was no cheesy guy; he’d popped his questions all straightforward. She liked that.
She looked up from the flower.
“Vince, let’s just make it simple. Tinawag kita rito dahil may pag-uusapan tayo.”
“One last question.”
“Fire away.”
She raised one brow.
“Naniniwala ka ba sa reincarnation?”
The Katipunan 7-11 near the train station was a nice tambayan. It had been a rainy afternoon, that sudden spouting of rain in May. Outside, the tricycles were few, no doubt, caused by the rain. There, she could eat in peace.
The Korean noodles she had gotten were hot, spicy and nice; the two packs of 7-11-made sushi laying on top of her table snugly. Just perfect. She pulled out her heavy DSLR camera and clicked a picture. There, picture perfect. It was just another boundary, of time, the stretch between the middle of the afternoon to the start of the evening. It had been a bit of a drag today; she had woken up and her motorcycle had gotten a flat tire, and she had newly moved in her new apartment.
And she had been running around, to get to UP Town Center, for another freelance photography gig. Hence, the DSLR hidden in her heavy Jansport backpack. Dressed in gray, her long hair hanging loose on the sides of her head, she was pallid. Tiny, petite. Looked three years younger than her actual age, which was twenty, a fresh graduate of Communication. Chinita, fair-skinned, and just so small. Fragile.
She hated that word. She had almost gotten so drenched in the rain. Defenseless. Fuck that, Addie Reyes was a fighter.
That was how she had ended up in that 7-11 table, scavenging for food, for dinner. It had been a fight to stay dry, had been a fight ever since she had graduated with honors, to scramble a good job. Something creative. Something that could let her fly.
Words were what she loved. Pictures. Yet her parents said no, and that was it. A fight to adult.
The door opened, and from the rain, stepped in a young man. He was bespectacled, had a clean, babyface. The kind of boy you called “totoy” to judge by the clothing, dripping wet black jacket and white shirt under; her nose wrinkled. His footfalls were audible, as he ducked once entering the store; the door slammed shut, and he turned, to view the small world inside the 7-11. The racks of food, the refigerators and the drinks, the donut machine and the widely spread counter on the north.
And her.
She took some sips of the spicy and hot Korean noodle broth from her noodle cup. The heat burned her tongue. A munch of some noodles. Mhm. That was good.
He walked towards her.
“Can I share your table?”
The accent was familiar. The voice sent some chills down her skin, and when she looked up, she did not know why.
But her throat tightened. Her ribs felt warm. It was like touching fire.
His face was constant. Pleasant, young, with nice skin. Full lips, thick-rimmed black glasses and scruffy short hair.
“Sige,” she told him, brightening up. Perhaps eating actually did wonders to her. She did not know why her cheeks were aflame, or why she suddenly felt so alive. There was something about him. Was it his hands? His hands seemed used to work. Yet he was so young.
The boy smiled back at her and took the seat.
“Sarap ng kain mo, ah.”
She giggled. “Oo! Sushi, ramyeon, malamig.”
“Mahilig ka ba sa Japanese or Korean cuisine, miss?” He smiled at her.
She didn’t know why the world suddenly stopped at that moment. When her ribs felt like fire, that she felt that she was touched by something. She had looked up.
She found brown eyes making eye at her.
And it slightly went hazy.
Blurs. A rainy day, someone grabbing her arm. Laughter. The moonlight, a window. A kiss. Touching. A peck on the cheek. Open-mouthed kisses.
She blinked.
He was still looking at her.
“Oo,” she said, brightly, once more. “Paborito ko nga. At tsaka, wag nang miss.” She paused for a while, to let it all sink in.
“Kung di miss, e di, ano?”
Earnest. She could smell it in him, this young man in front of her, sharing her table. He leaned towards her; she could smell him. He smelled of rain, wood. And he wasn’t so bad to look at, she realized. Heck, he was pretty cute.
She found herself laughing. She could not stop the fire in her belly, the sunlight that gathered from her ribs.
“Addie. Addie Reyes.”
He surveyed her. There was a distant look in his eyes, as he leaned closer and closer.
“Addie.”
“Yes, call me Addie.” She took a small bite of her noodles. The heat did not bother her hands anymore. “Ikaw, anong pangalan mo? Anong kwento mo’t napadpad ka rito?”
“Vince. Short for Vicente Enriquez. Galing akong trabaho. Call center supervisor.” He turned to her again, and then grinned.
Her heart skipped a beat, that very moment.
Stupid Addie. Stupid, stupid, malandi Addie, she cursed herself, as she waited in the garden, the maze of green, surrounded by red and white roses. Why did she let him get her number as easy as that after they had spent the night in 7-11, talking about Haruki Murakami and the Kdramas she had watched, which he found interesting. He was Vince Enriquez, baby-faced and a call center supervisor with a degree in Legal Management from the Ateneo, yet he was in a rut to work. Ergo, the call center job.
Why did she have such a loose tongue? She was No Boyfriend Since Birth, a trainwreck of a girl always slipping down the road whenever she attempted to walk nicely. She had said no to boys before they even started to pursue her. She was cheap. Cheap for allowing him to talk to her, and talk to her and for allowing herself to wallow in his words.
To wallow in his conversations about his Dalmatian dog, or the poetry he read. Or how he loved Nirvana’s album. Did they even have anything in common?
And yet, she teetered on her beige heels, her gray skirt flapping with the wind. Above, white doves soared, and she clung to the black jacket layered on top of her gray dress. Her hands clung to her small hand-held camera, and she clicked. Doves. Click. A child clinging to her mother’s hands. Click. The view from her standpoint, from Quezon Memorial Park, the Circle.
She smiled.
At least she could take the vantage point from here. That was the easier thing about being a photographer – you could just paint a picture. Mean something with a thousand words. She could tell stories, and splat them across the blank photo paper. She could play with the brightness and control things.
It was debate and not debate. A storyteller, a controller.
“Gusto ko ng picture!” said a kid, a girl with a bright yellow santan flower between her chubby fingers.
Addie leaned in.
Click.
She grinned.
More clicks.
And she found herself laughing, when she stood up. The wind blew; she felt her short hair blow across her face.
Things like these; they made her heart warm.
“Miss, I want a photo.”
She turned – and she saw him.
Vince’s hair was combed better; he had shaved, and he wore a white shirt over faded denim jeans.
In his hands was a bouquet of pink flowers.
“Para sa iyo.”
She raised a brow.
“Ako talaga?” she pressed.
“Ikaw,” he assured her. “Ikaw talaga.”
She took the bouquet. Roses. Weren’t they expensive? Her ears burned; she felt bad for being the cause of such an expense.
“Vince, you don’t have to do this for me.”
“Why not? Hindi mo ba gusto?” Vince scratched the crook of his neck, apprehensive. “Uh, sorry kung nadisturbo kita.”
“Ah – naappreciate ko naman, pero hindi ka ba namamahalan? Sabi mo kasi sa akin na sinusuportahan mo kasi yung mga kapatid mo, eh.”
And she meant them, the words. She remembered the details, of their conversations over Facebook, over those long messages. Laughing over small and big things, joking, and then the talks about their families.
Two weeks, tops, for him to start texting her. Two weeks, tops, for him to follow her on Instagram, and start liking her posts. Always commenting. Always asking how she was.
And then, of course, books.
“Addie.”
“A-Ano?”
Her hair was still windblown; she could feel the lightness of her head. How her knees began to buckle when he was around. She was relieved some of the strands of her short hair had fallen across her face.
He moved; closer to her. With one finger, he tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear.
“Natatakpan mukha mo, Addie.”
She bit her lip. God damn it, Vince Enriquez, she thought. Addie Reyes, bakit napakalandi mo?
“So what if natatakpan mukha ko?” She huffed. Certainly, did he wish to play at this game? She had been far too preemptive. He was pursuing her, until now.
“Shy ka pala.” Vince chuckled.
“Excuse me, hindi ako shy!”
“Ayan o, Addie.” Vince laughed. His cheeks dimpled, and there it was again. The fire in her belly, the wobbling of her knees. How he made her weak. Oh, he had no idea how hypnotic he was. “Ginagawa mo ulit. Sassy at outspoken ka nga, pero parang nagiging shy ikaw kapag hinahawakan ita, o.”
“Sus. Akala mo lang iyan, yun pala hindi, hindi!”
She snorted and threw her head back. Pride. The best thing to hide under. She was aware. Far too aware, of the time she had done the same, almost two-three centuries ago, when she didn’t know how the emotions bubbled at the bottom. She was much prouder back then, when she had an obligation and legitimate reason to hide under. She was only doing her duty, back then.
“Hindi kami, Ayudante Venecia. Wala akong oras, ni man lang na pusong maibibigay.” Her words were knives back then.)
“Hugotera ka pala!” He laughed harder. “Ang cute mo talaga!”
“H-Hindi ako cute. Ako ay fierce. Thanks.” She snorted.
“Oh, ginagawa mo ulit, o!”
That was when he caught her arm.
Weak. She cursed herself for being frozen, when he touched her on her arm. Knees wobbling once again. Skin that burned. And the flashes of what seemed to be the stretch of memories.
Holding her arm, in another life, walking under the setting sun.
“A-Anong ginagawa ko ulit?”
“Nahihiya ikaw.”
She let her arm fall down.
“Bakit nahihiya ka sa buhay na ito?”
She looked up at him. Blinked.
“E, ikaw, hindi ka rin ba nahihiya sa akin?” she countered him. It was easy to catch and deflect. Yet what did she manage to do to him? Two weeks, and she had found out so much about him. He was persistent, she could figure it out. He had been after her, since the numbers were exchanged. He was fighting for his family, by getting his supervisor promotion recently.
Vince studied her face.
“Hinding hindi talaga.” This, he admitted, making eye contact with her. He looked boyish, with that earnest look in his eyes, and the corner of his lip curving.
“Wala kang hiya, Vicente Enriquez.” She laughed. She could not stop this laugh. “Binigyan mo ako ng pink roses, two weeks pa lang –“
He silenced her with his mouth.
What shocked her was that she kissed him back.
A month. She could collect it, like she did with her words. The texts and messages came in like a hurricane, and she revelled in the attention. Suddenly, there was color in her gray and neutrals wardrobe; she put on a splash of red lipstick on, and then got herself a new lip tint.
So this was the ecstasy of love, to bloom and to put color in her life, where everything suddenly felt like a new experience, that she relished to cherish and keep it stored in her mind.
He loved her. That he wanted to prove to her, it would be apparent to her, as he would later claim so on and on. He had her; dates, and then breathless kisses. Open-mouthed kisses, holding hands, going to church together, dinner and so much more. Suddenly, time with him became a priority. She was his, he was hers, and they were caught in the flytrap of young love.
There was so much, she thought, one afternoon, at Intramuros, as they walked around. Hand in hand. Her, in a dress. Him, in his button-down shirt and beat-up denims. So much to explore, and that they were so young, so neew to this experience.
They were in love. In love with each other. In love with the experience.
“Bakit yung kamay mo, hindi ganoon kalambot?” she asked him.
“Sanay sa trabaho.”
She snorted. “Bakit parang pakiramdam ko naman na mahabang kwento iyan? Girlfriend mo ako, nagtatago ka pala ng mga lihim sa akin!” This, said in a joking tone.
“At ako’y tapat sa iyo.”
He raised their enjoined hands; pressed a fervent kiss to her knuckle. And there it was again, turning to goo at his kisses and touches. Weak. Feverish.
“Bakit nga?”
“Nagigitara ako, kasi. Nasa may banda ako nang nasa hayskul ako. Nangarap kami, alam mo iyon.”
“So, nagcocover ba kayo ng mga kanta?”
“Yun – at nagsusulat din kami ng mga sarili naming kanta.”
“Makata ka rin pala.”
He placed a kiss on her cheek. She giggled, at the thrill of it all.
“Matagal na.”
She turned to him again.
“Bakit mo ako mahal, sige nga, kung makata ka?” The brightness in her voice was conspicuous. Challenging.
“Mahal kita,” said Vince, “dahil ika’y parang araw, na hinahanap-hanap mo sa bagong araw na rumarating. Mahal kita, dahil masarap pakinggan ang iyong tawa, at masarap ikaw kasama, masarap kausapin.”
She giggled again.
“Bakit ka tawa?”
“Ang cheesy mo kasi.”
“Cheesy?”
She kissed him on the cheek.
“Cheesy ka nga, pero ikaw pa rin boyfriend ko!”
“So may boyfriend ka pala?” her mother asked her, on the phone.
“Oo.” She could admit that. “Pero wait, Ma, paano mo nalaman na may boyfriend ako?”
“Yung kaibigan mo sabi sa akin. Madalas daw kayo magdate. Tinanong niya kung alam ko.” Her mother clicked her tongue. She would disapprove. Of course, she had been the one to raise Addie up. Told her to treat her virginity as if it was the most precious thing she could give a man, told her that a woman’s place was to cook and clean and serve her parents. Shipped her off to the province to cook and clean and serve her grandfather, when she could have been in Manila, making the most out of her writing and photography workshops.
It had been her mother who shot away that fateful National Debate Championship tournament. That it was not her place. That it was not her time.
“Addie, please tell me you haven’t slept with him yet.”
“Ma! That’s none of your business!” She rolled her eyes. It was all kissing, and holding hands. But the kissing was another area.
“What my business is, at least ano bang name niya, anak.” Her mother paused. “Anong background niya?”
“Vicente Enriquez, Ma. Isa siyang call center supervisor. Graduate siya ng Ateneo tulad ko pero nagcall center siya for quick cash, kasi ang rami ng kanyang mga kapatid. Magka-edad lang kami.”
Her mother drew in a quick breath. There was a long pause at the other line.
“Ma?”
“…Naalala mo pa ba kung bakit Adela ang name sa may certificate mo?”
“Bakit?”
“Kasi, ang lolo mong si Lolo Vito, may nakakabata siyang kapatid na babae. Iba na ang pangalan niya sa mga records ngayon, sa may Bulacan.”
Addie blinked.
“Ikwento mo nga.”
“For starters.” Her mother sighed deeply. “Mahabang kwento ito. And really, pinakasalan niya isang Enriquez. Ang masaklap, sampung anak ang napala niya; ang malala ay binago niya pangalan niya.”
And that was the start.
A few days later, when her mother came over, she had the pictures with her. The pictures were framed, in an attempt to be preserved. Black and white, browning and fading, yet her mother put the frames in her hands.
“Tignan mo.”
Addie looked down at the pictures.
There was a photo of a family, of ten children on the right side of the photo. On the left, was a petite young woman.
Her arms were small, her features pallid, and what was worse, chinita.
“May hawig ka sa kanya, anak.”
A shiver ran down Addie’s spine.
0-
Cognitive dissonance. That was what it felt like, managing to jumble at the spools unwhirling. This was love was supposed to feel like, right? They were trying to make it work, the two of them. She, between her drag races of commutes to this photoshoot, or at nights, when she would be stuck in the darkness, hanging alone to start scribbling verses down her notebook. Him, trying to keep track of her with his phone, him, trying to go overtime to get more money for his siblings, who he was sending to school.
But they loved each other, right? She liked the thrill of it all, on their dates. The holding hands, the nighttime drives and the long conversations they had, about life. About the future. About the universe. When he would show her his poetry, and she would read it aloud. And he’d look at her, with a look that made her feel so giddy deep inside. She learned to like the night, those times. The poetry, the words, it made her feel so alive.
And he was hers, this delicious secret she could keep to herself. Her clients didn’t know she had a boyfriend, neither did the people in her spoken word poetry circle. How the words seeped so easily, when she wrote her own words. How she lit up so brightly. She loved his smile, she loved his hands, so steady and gentle. She loved how he kissed her.
But why did she even love him? She had seen the pictures, the resemblances too striking. The ten children. The fact she had been his, a lifetime ago.
“Hanggang kailan ka pa ba magiging call center supervisor?” she asked him. They were sitting together, at the couch, on the small circle of his condo unit. He’d been paying for so many things, the condo, the schooling. “Nakakapagod, Vince.”
He shrugged. “Kailangan. At kakayanin.”
“Ayaw ko lang kasi napapagod ikaw, ginagawa ang isang trabaho na hindi mo naman gaano kamahal.”
“Huwag kang mag-aalala.”
“Vince, seryoso ako!’
He kissed her cheek again.
“Pag-isipan ko,” he promised. He looked at the watch on his wrist, then to her. It was too late, she realized. They had been talking, chatting with each other for a few hours already. Almost midnight. She would have trouble commuting back to her flat. A glance at the window outside and it was another warning: it was too dark.
“Ayos ka lang na tabi tayo sa kama? Masyado nang late, eh.”
She nodded.
“Pag-isipan mo talaga. Matalino ka naman, magaling. You deserve better. Di lang kayod.”
Vince scratched his neck.
“Pag-iisipan ko nga.”
She took his hand and scrutinized it. Calloused from the guitar, fingers sore from work. She squeezed his hand, and let go. Put it to her lips.
“Kinukumutan ka ng aking titig,” she whispered. “Isang siyudad ng pag-ibig.”
He smiled at her; she felt her belly warm up. So what had she given him, in the past months? Drives at night, poems she recited for him? Her laugh? The secret that she was his in another lifetime? Another poem, another kiss for him to take. Her smiles were not meant for free.
Vince leaned in closer to her, and then kissed her. And she kissed him back. Eager. Hungry. Warm. She felt him grab her waist, and she pulled in. Closer.
The moon, did it shine, she would later wonder, as both of them dove into the mattress, like the way it did a lifetime ago?
The light went out.
Another night, caught in the time and distance.
“Vince?”
He rested his head on her shoulder; she smelled the brief hiss of cigarette from his jacket and tried not to frown. Time was their enemy, the two of them, in the maze of young love and meetings. Waiting for him. Hours. Her own job and circumstances.
“Amoy sigarilyo ka, Vince. Naninigarilyo ka ba?”
He shook his head.
“Wag kang magsinungaling sa akin!”
He turned to look at her, and then put his lips to her shoulder. A kiss. He drew her closer, and she smelled him. More cigarette smoke. Was he smoking now? She closed her eyes. It was so tiring. And it ached her, to wait for hours, rushing day by day just to be able to see him.
To touch him.
UP Town Center was just behind them. Yet the lights were barely hitting the two of them. He was three hours late to the scheduled date.
“… Naninigarilyo na ako,” he admitted. He looked her in the eye. “Addie, wag ka nang mag-alala.”
“Vince!” Her voice snapped. “Ito na yung pinagsasabi ko sa iyo, dapat hindi ka na nastrestress sa work.”
“At kung magquit ako, paano ko mapaninindigan ko pamilya ko –“
“E di –“
“Paano kita mapapanindigan, Addie?”
“Tanga! Panindigan mo muna sarili mo, may trabaho ako!” She scowled. No playing games now.
“Tulad ng dati. Addie, let me explain!”
There was an awkward silence; she let her gaze fall far from him. Back to the lights. Footfall approaching, there was another girl and a young man walking, from the building.
“Tulad ng dati?” she whispered.
The other young man was running after the girl.
“Wait! I can explain!”
The girl ignored him.
“Tulad ng dati.”
“At anong dati?”
The flashes of light.
And then the blurs.
A kiss under the moonlight. Shared laughter under the rain. Wedding vow, exchanged. The flash of a photograph, the laughter of ten children.
Yet when she opened her eyes, she saw him. Vince, conjured by the memories, smelling of cigarette smoke. The one she was waiting for, late for their date, trying to catch things then and in between. Him, the only man who had shared her bed and taken what she had to offer. Yet he had snuffed her out, in his bed and the motels, snuffed her by making her wait hours and hours because his shift had to end.
“Constancia!”
The other man yelled.
Nothing.
“Addie? I’m sorry.” He grabbed her arm, firm. “Alam kong pagod ka na. Let’s go eat. Magsulat ka ng tula. Gusto ko ito pakinggan. Libre ko.”
Adela. Josefa. The words were there in her brain. So did the memories. She wanted to puke and scream at him. She burned, and she drowned, but she moved no more, and let him draw her close.
“Shh. Papakainin ko na ikaw. I love you, Addie.”
No, you don’t.
She met Raffy with his laughing eyes, at work, another photoshoot. He was chiselled where Vince was babyface and totoy.
“Addie Reyes. Photographer, and hobbyist of a poet.”
“Raffy Venecia.” He grinned, and shook her hand. The two of them huddled together, facing each other, at the seat, in the Starbucks branch nearby the photoshoot venue. “I’m twenty-four years old.”
“Twenty-one na me,” she answered him back. He was the subject of the photoshoot. Raffy Venecia, an up and coming CEO; he had just passed his bar exams. Also, Legal Management in Ateneo.
“Addie Reyes, sounds familiar.”
Her eyes lit up.
“Debate team ako rati sa Ateneo,” she admitted. “Active ako sa orgs noon. Galing kasi akong Ateneo, actually.”
His cheeks dimpled. His laughter was deep, booming.
“Ateneo? Looks like mahaba ang usapan natin ngayon.” He eyed her – she was stealing glances at her phone. A text or call from Vince? Strange; there was none.
“Okay ka lang?”
“I’m fine.”
Time not to think of Vince. Not when the thought of him sent this angry chill down her arms and her skin, with anger, with rage, with smothering storms.
It fell apart.
Just as she predicted. Nights trying to track down each other. Him, salvaging her calls and attempting to text. Her: ignoring his texts and calls, paying more attention to work, and Raffy. Her, looking at the old photos of the woman they called Josefa Ysciano-Rivera, and the old family photos of her great grandfather, Vito Reyes and their family. Manolo Reyes, Vito Reyes, and then Adela. The photos were ashes, and her anger was fire.
They were at Intramuros, amongst the aged old, buildings. Doves that flew in the distance, the two of them together.
He was on a day off, he had told her today, smelling of cigarette smoke. Another attempt to make it up to her.
She accepted it with a nod.
She threw her look back to him. Her gaze a blanket, where he stood in front of her now. His arms, his hands, his beat-up jeans, the smoker smell clinging to him. The small bags under his eyes, the forced smile from his lips.
Her, wrapped in a black sweater dress over her tiny frame, her hair windblown again. She didn’t bother to swat her hair off, as the wind blew. Vince was on his phone, as she walked around, and about.
Some minutes later, the two of them sat together, on the bench. If it were only as easy as navigating his body and touch. But it was not tangible.
“Punta tayo sa Bulacan, sa weekend. Maghiking tayo.”
Addie closed her eyes.
“Addie?”
“Vince, wag na.” She looked up at him. “I didn’t tell you to see me here in Intramuros just for you to invite me to Bulacan.” She was marble, she was ice.
“Kung ganoon, sabihin mo kung bakit.” He set his jaw.
“Anything can happen, right?” She rubbed her knee, covered by the dress. “Pinag-isipan ko kasi ito. Nang matagal.”
“At ano naman ito?”
“Vince, break na tayo.”
“Ano? Bakit? May pagkukulang ba ako sa iyo? Addie, mahal kita!” His voice was solid. “Kung may pagkakamali o pagkukulang ako sa iyo, sabihin mo na sa akin.”
“Break na tayo.” She said it again, cold. “May mga bagay sa mundo na ito na dapat hindi na pinagpipilitan.”
“Addie, I love you! Ipinaglaban mo ako sa nanay mo, alam kong mahal mo ako!”
“Paano kung hindi ko na ikaw mahal, ha?” She relished it; the feeling of drilling a hole through him, through that stupid smile she learned to hate. “You don’t love me. You never loved me.”
“Kung may pagsubok ka sa akin, Addie, itapon mo na, dali. Addie, you know I love you. Addie, you love me. Addie, Addie, ano bang kailangan kong gawin para makuha ka muli?”
She swatted him away. Rose from the seat. Started to walk. Her heart was a cave, a crystal. Consumed in flames. Her feet ached, knees wobbled.
“Hindi ako ang tao para sa iyo, Vicente Enriquez. That’s why we’re breaking up.”
“Naniniwala ka ba sa reincarnation?”
She paused. He was back, where she conjured him to be. His hands more dilapidated. She imagined he had touched other women, she was his first and he the first man to touch her; it wouldn’t bother her now that she had Raffy to make out with. She had her words, she had Raffy, and the two years. And the two years had given her much.
Addie Reyes, with the ring on her finger, now a spoken word poet. Addie Reyes, and her pen to burn off the stinging ache of her throat when she thought of that flaming love affair with Vince Enriquez. It was all passion and youth and hot air, all burning and ephemeral. Gave it their all. They didn’t love each other, she could say it for herself to take in and chew and process.
But she bit her lip again. The old pictures. The story her mother had passed down to her. The unpleasant grinding down her belly. The fire that eschewed her to kiss Vince back, the night she gave him her all.
(Did she want them all? She wanted to think that way. The ten children, changing her name. Adapting for him? Once upon a time, maybe she did.)
“Ewan ko.” She sighed. Maybe, she would give her heart a rest now. Her knees wobbled, and the ring at her finger ached, as if wanted to get rid of Raffy’s ring. “Sige, ikwento mo na.”
“Kasi, alam mo, noong noon pa, minahal ko rin ikaw. Alam mo, sinabi mo sa akin, nang kinasal tayo noon, na papasayahin mo rin ako. Yung masakit, ako ang nagsabi sa iyo na papasayahin kita.”
She shivered.
“At hindi ko ito nagawa. Sorry, Addie. Bakit mo ako tinawag dito?”
There. She stopped fumbling with the ring on her finger. Would he hate her for this?
“Ikakasal na kasi ako, Vince.”
The wind blew.
Up in the clouds, the sun was setting.
Part 1 of 2, The Natural Phenomenon of Reincarnation.
Nikki: #masaquette
Nikki: Give me a happy scenario
Nikki: Pls
Me: Coffee shop au (idk kung may coffee shop sa Regis [Note to anyone reading this: Pasensya na, di ako lumilibot]) Vince works as a barista and Adela is this graduate who just finished her boards and needs a coffee quick because she isn’t all that confident about the test. They become friends after all that time that she hangs around after their first meeting and he’s the first person she tells about the very good board exam results when she finds out.
We Run From Wolves: the Adente Mix No One Asked For P1.
The first phase. Young, brilliant sparks in the fireworks of a revolution. They who wore their losses and fire and idealisms like a crown - the young treasurer turned colonel, and the spymaster turned commander. At the end of the first phase, they took what was theirs.
1. Urchin - Labyrinth Ear (Small and we were graced out dust//We were graced as dust)
2. Your Universe - Rico Blanco (You hold me like// I'm the one who's precious//I hate to break it to you but it's just//The other way around)
3. King and Lionheart - Of Monsters and Men (You’re my king//And I’m your lionheart)
4. Hypnotic - Zella Day x Vanic (You do to me so well//Hypnotic taking over me)
5. Balisong - Rivermaya (Nobody's made me feel this way before//You're everything I wanted and more)
6. Team - Lorde (We're on each other's team//And you know we're on each other's team)
7. Seven Nation Army - Glitch Mob (Every single one's got a story to tell//Everyone knows about it, from the Queen of England to the hounds of hell //And if I catch you comin' back my way, I'm gonna sell it to you)
8. Bangon - Rico Blanco (Bangon, Pilipinas kong mahal//Akay ang pananampalataya sa Maykapal//Ahon, buhay sa iyong dugo//Ang tibay na tatak ng tunay na Pilipinas//At nagising ang bayanihan//Milyun-milyon naging isa)
9. Cry No More - Vaults (To be the braver one//To raise a weary hand//In a house that’s built on sand//To wear it like a crown//To keep before you drown//To fight it and keep it all calm//Will I be a warrior?)
10. Wolves Without Teeth - Of Monsters and Men ( And I run from wolves//Breathing heavily//At my feet)
