Interim Goddess of Love

by Mina V. Esguerra

  "I got another gift," she declared, setting down a box of pastries on my desk.

  A head peeked out of one of the meeting rooms. It was guidance counselor Farrah, who happened to be in a session with a freshman student at the time.

  "Everything all right here?" she asked.

  "Yes," Kathy and I said at the same time.

  She looked like she didn't believe us, but I could explain it all -- or at least lie -- to her later. Ms. Farrah was cool.

  So, another thing I had in common with Kathy -- mangoes were, truly, the best thing ever. Ripe mangoes, the dark yellow ones, would be my true love. Crunchy green ones, not so much, but I did have moods when only that and spicy sweet shrimp paste would make things better.

  Although given the choice, I would take a ripe mango fresh and whole, and eat with my hands (peeling the skin gradually around) instead of put it in a pastry.

  But I would not say no to mangoes in pastry.

  "This is so, so yummy," Kathy said, in between bites.

  "It's the best thing ever," I said, for the third time. "How did you even get this? I thought you couldn't send food through the mail service."

  "I'm almost sure that someone got paid off there. They won't tell me, and it's impossible that they don't know who's doing this."

  "It's not Carson," I told her, dropping my voice to a whisper.

  Kathy's eyes widened, and then she gulped a little loudly, probably swallowing some shame with her mango tart. "I thought so. Are you sure?"

  "Pretty sure."

  "He's not over Martha, right?"

  "Not yet. So this other guy, Ian, he knows about your thing for mangoes too?"

  She paused, and then nodded. "Yeah, he does."

  "We'll find out then."

  The tart was perfect, by the way. Mango tarts were tricky because a too-sweet mango could ruin the thing, but this was perfect. Like the baker adjusted the cream and crust sweetness to match the fruit.

  "What exactly are you doing, Hannah?" Kathy asked. "I mean, I don't mind that you're helping, but when I tell you stuff, what exactly do you do after?"

  I shrugged. "I find out what's up. So you get your answers. Don't you want that?"

  "Do they know that you're asking because of me?"

  "Not at all."

  "All right, good." She wiped a bit of tart crust off her lip, which reminded me to do the same. "I just worry, that's all."

  "I'm so stealthy, they don't even know you know anything."

  "I'm sure you'll find a way to charm them -- in a subtle way."

  Never in my life had I been called charming, subtle or not. I knew it wasn't me, but the goddess thing -- I couldn't even take credit for it.

  Kathy cleared her throat. "Because I do want the answer, don't get me wrong. I just hope it doesn't ruin anything."

  Fear. Not the for-her-life kind, but strangely close, and it was making my own heart pound just from being near it. She was doing the thing we teenagers do, trying to act as if this kind of thing didn't bother us in the slightest.

  Trying. Because, come on. This was the most exciting thing that ever happened to her. I had her heart in my hands. Her hopes for a memorable first relationship were all on me. Did I even know what I was doing?

  Not going to tell her that.

  So instead I told her I was proceeding with loads of caution, loads. "Don't worry. The bright side is that someone cares enough about you to do this. Your only problem, really, is if you like him back. That's not even a problem."

  Some girls were just lucky.

  Chapter 7

  Of course I knew who Vida Castillo was.

  That was probably the one sign of truly belonging to the Ford River student body. The people who honestly did not recognize Vida when she passed them in the hallway were the freshmen on their first day. When I came into this school she was a junior, and editor-in-chief of the student news website. Now that she was a senior, she was president of the student council. What she had been before that, I didn't know, but it was probably awesome. People who were introduced to her didn't even bother with pretending they didn't know her name. They were all like, "So I finally get to meet you."

  Even I got tongue-tied over how beautiful she was. And yet she wasn't like a commercial model showing off superpale skin, nor was she the polar opposite. I once described her to my mother (because Vida was the kind of girl you talked to friends and family about) as a hybrid of cultures, like someone had taken what was considered beautiful in about thirty countries, mixed it, baked it, and out came Vida.

  My mom said that was impossible.

  My moment with Vida happened in the school library. I was trying to find the single volume of a Philippine Myths and Legends book that was supposedly there, but wasn't really on its proper shelf. This had actually happened to me before. Some of the students in this school could be so inconsiderate.

  The library took up the entire third floor of the West building, although that wasn't large enough compared to the older schools. (Eventually I should stop comparing Ford River to the older schools.) The stacks and selection I found impressive, mainly because I often found what I needed for my classes. But I was surprised to find so little about other things, and in that regard the library felt more like a rather large chain bookstore.

  Just in case it was just in the wrong place, I scanned the stacks. When I took a U-turn into another shelf, I nearly bumped into Vida herself.

  "I'm sorry," I said automatically, even if I hadn't done anything wrong.

  She was like a source of light between the bookshelves. Not that she was glowing (or maybe there was some of that), but she just couldn't be ignored. It was Monday, uniform day, and in theory she and I were wearing the exact same plaid skirt and white top, but on her it looked tailored and perfect. Then I noticed that she was looking straight at me.

  "Hannah, right?" she said.

  "Yes… yes?" I stammered.

  "This library is so inadequate. People in this school have no respect for books."

  "I was… there's this book I'm trying to find. It's not here."

  She shrugged. "The shelving in this section is horrible. What were you looking for?"

  "Philippine myths and legends," I said, but it looked like she already knew.

  "Too bad. Can't you find that on the Internet?"

  "I tried. There's nothing much. I mean, I guess I wanted to check something not put up by some guy on Wikipedia."

  Her hand came upon my shoulder, and I was steered away from the maze of shelves. Near the librarian's desk was a short shelf of children's books, and without hesitating Vida pulled one out by the spine.

  Ang Alamat ng Araw at Buwan. The legend of the sun and moon. Illustrated and bilingual.

  I wanted to ask if she was kidding. "I think I need something a bit more… mature."

  Vida ran the book, and the student ID around my neck, through the quick-checkout barcode reader and was obviously not kidding. "Nonsense. Anything worth knowing is taught to kids first anyway."

  Then the book was in my hand, and she and I were walking out of the library -- no, she was escorting me out. Each step of the way she caught every eye she passed, and some of them actually turned to me too. Just being around her for two minutes was already upping my social value.

  Outside the library doors, a guy holding a woman's bag and two books was waiting. "Thank you, darling," she said, taking the items from him, and on her, the additional bag and books still looked magazine-perfect. "Hannah, this is my boyfriend Jake."

  "Hi, Jake," I said. I knew the guy -- he was a sophomore too, and we might have taken a PE class together last year. He was one of the more good-looking guys, probably the cutest one in my batch. If Vida, a senior, absolutely had to date a sophomore, then Jake Lalisan was the guy to date.

  "Hi, Hannah," he said, and I almost laughed at how obedient we sounded. And then I picked up something from him as soon as I heard his voice.

  He's confused. Jake did not know, apparently, t
hat he was Vida's boyfriend, but was flattered to hear it.

  "Bye, Hannah," Vida said, taking Jake by the arm and waving like we were friends. "We should talk about the book when you're done."

  Funny. I always thought that Vida got her reputation because she was just that pretty. As she walked further away from me, it was like I was waking up from a trance, and realized that she had just monopolized my time and I had let her.

  She is totally one of them. I wondered why Quin didn't tell me.

  Chapter 8

  THE LEGEND OF THE SUN AND THE MOON

  In the days before human memory, when Bathala, the Great Father, ruled the sky and sea, a quarrel erupted between two of his children, Apo and Maya.

  Apo was the strongest and most handsome among Bathala's many children, while Maya was the smartest and prettiest. The other brothers and sisters knew it was best to step aside when their two siblings fought even over the smallest trifles.

  But this quarrel was quite serious. Maya and Apo were arguing over their birthright. It began when Bathala asked this question: "Who would like to rule over humans?"

  "Me, me, me!" cried Apo, bright and eager. "I will race across the sky, give warmth to humans, and shine upon their crops and cattle. They shall use the shadows I cast around them to measure their hours. Humans shall work hard under my light and know I am forever watching them. Humans shall worship me without fail!"

  "Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Maya, fair was her skin and passionate were her ways. "Dear brother, you are crude and naive. You cannot force humans to worship you. You must persuade them to open their hearts. If you show yourself all the time, humans will always be aware of your presence, and therefore shall always keep their thoughts and desires hidden from you. Father, look at me. Am I not your most beautiful daughter? Yet I know that the way to the human heart is to conceal my beautiful face from time to time. Only then will they reveal who they really are. In the end, humans always yearn for my return, and they gladly kneel before my glorious illumination."

  "I do not understand your fancy words, dear sister," replied Apo, who had turned red in his anger. "I say we settle this with a duel!" And with that, Apo struck his sister's face, bruising her perfect complexion.

  "You beast! You ignorant fool! You have no idea how strong I am!" cried Maya. She wrestled with her brother and smothered him until his light was entirely blocked out. The humans were plunged in great darkness.

  "Stop it, both of you," said Bathala. "Let go of your brother this instant!"

  "But he started it!"

  "No, she did!"

  "I didn't you stupid oaf!"

  "See how she insults me, Father!"

  "I said ENOUGH!" Bathala's voice echoed for a while. Apo and Maya faced each other in silence while the voice of Bathala spread across the sky. "Enough! Enough!"

  Then Bathala took both his children in his arms. "The two of you will need to share. Humans shall be ruled by both of you. But only half the time."

  Apo was to rule during the day, while Maya was to rule during the night.

  Reluctantly, the two of them agreed. Bathala was pleased that the two were no longer fighting and he called his other children to come out of hiding to join them for a celebratory feast.

  "Hurray! Hurray!" cried their other brothers and sisters.

  THE END.

  Chapter 9

  I love my mother, but hate that I inherited her skin. Oily everywhere, especially when I was deep in thought. Not sure how and why, but the shine just turned up whenever I did math homework, or during an exam. That was so annoying, to be mentally exhausted and look like it too.

  So my facial routine since I turned twelve involved the following: gentle morning anti-blemish cleanser, toner so minty it stung, antibacterial acne cream medication, tea tree oil concealer, hypoallergenic face powder, oil absorbent facial wipes, stronger anti-blemish evening cleanser, stronger antibacterial acne night cream.

  On the day that I was to meet Ian Carag, I noticed that I didn't need them that morning. And that I had, in fact, not been using the products for a few days (too sleepy one night, and running late another morning) and the world hadn't ended. I knew that eventually I wouldn't need them anymore, but I didn't think it would actually happen while I was still in school -- when it mattered the most.

  I needed to brag to someone about this, so I texted Sol: No more breakouts! Congratulate me, puberty has ended!

  Sol, who had flawless skin since she was a baby (I saw the pictures), texted back: You are a swan princess!

  Ian Carag was an SK just like me. Exceptional grades, had his pick of the top schools in the country and several others within a three-hour plane ride. But he chose Ford River, not sure why. Maybe he liked being a big fish in a small pond.

  I was able to introduce myself to him by visiting his club's event that week. The Wine Appreciation Society had a tasting ("Wines from Chile"), but what we actually talked about while there was a TV show that had been cancelled for years.

  "I've only really seen one episode of The X-Files," I admitted, wondering if that would kill my chances of getting anything out of him. "I was home sick and couldn't find the TV remote. Couldn't change the channel. But it was about a serial killer who targeted psychics."

  "Oh, 'Clyde Bruckman,'" Ian nodded, excited. "From season three, one of the good ones. Did you like it?"

  "I remember it being funnier than I thought it would be."

  "The X-Files is hilarious."

  I was a bit out of my element in this conversation so far. First of all, I knew nothing about wine, and must have nodded a hundred times as my more knowledgeable schoolmates discussed the finer points of stuff that tasted very nearly the same to me. Some shared stories of visiting Chile, not that I could participate in that either. And Ian wanted to talk about a show I never really watched.

  "I guess I just never gave it a chance before," I said.

  "It's not for everybody," Ian said. "You know Kathy Martin? She's the only one who's also a fan here, at least that I know of."

  Now this is more like it. "Yes, I know Kathy. How do you know her?"

  Ian knew her through a friend of a friend, and even in his mind he would put that label, that artificial distance between them.

  "She and I… I mean, she's probably the only other person here who watches it. Usually if I meet a fan it's someone way older. But Kathy's cool, you know, even if we don't like it the exact same way."

  "How can someone like it a different way? It's a show about aliens, right?"

  He released a little laugh that carried much fondness. "She thinks it's a romance."

  As soon as he said her name, I felt distinctly how he thought of her, and it was… how could I explain it…

  Quin, by the way, demanded that I be more specific about this. A recap of a previous conversation:

  Me: Sad?

  Quin: Not sad. It's never just 'sad.'

  Me: That's what I'm getting.

  Quin: You can't help if you don't see the nuances.

  Me: I need a thesaurus.

  Ian's feelings for Kathy were warm, and affectionate, but it was like he was willing himself not to nurture them. I was wrong, it wasn't distance.

  And then, I saw this memory:

  …It was the first day of foreign language class, Intermediate Mandarin. For fifty seconds they were partners in a quick exercise in class (a quick hi and how are you to the person behind you), and even though she smiled and instantly forgot him as soon as she turned to the third row to talk to the girl behind her, he didn't.

  He joked about it, once they were properly introduced by his friend Anna. Kathy lied about not remembering him (he totally could tell) but he was fine with it. At least, he became fine with it as soon as she pointed to his shirt, which had the words "Apology is Policy" printed on it.

  "X-Files," she said.

  He lent her a DVD set and they talked about the show the four times that they happened to be hanging out in the same place together. The first time,
she had asked him his favorite episode. ("The Host" for him, "Memento Mori" for her.) The second time, they talked about if the Mulder-less seasons counted, or could be scrapped from the series and not affect how they felt about it. The third time, they disagreed over the show's decision to move its production from Vancouver to LA. The fourth time, she returned his DVDs and lent him Slumdog Millionaire.

  Unlike ninety-eight percent of the students at Ford River, Ian didn't think about falling in love there. It was a small school, he knew that, and chances of finding a girl he could stand were very slim. He had already psyched himself into not making this his problem. He would not ask a girl out in college. He would wait until he graduated, became successful and rich, and by then this girlfriend-less time would be just one of his humorous anecdotes. He would spin it as a personal choice, because he didn't want to be distracted from his goals. (Becoming rich and successful was that difficult.)

  But he was starting to think that Kathy could be a worthy distraction. Maybe. She did seem to get it. She looked very attractive, and not in the loud and obnoxious way that the popular girls were. And despite being a rich girl she didn't have that air around the SKs that the others did…

  Tentative. That's what Ian was.

  I sipped my wine like I was deep in thought. (Which I kind of was.) I wasn't really a wine drinker or an X-Files fan, so I wasn't sure what Ian and I would talk about once he stopped talking about Kathy. And with his two sentences about how he knew her, I already got what I came for.

  This is probably what dating is like! It's hard. And regular people didn't have the power to see into the other's heart to keep them entertained.

  The wine event was held in the only room in the Student Center building that had a window looking out toward the field. I prepared to say something about the time and the setting sun, but then I heard a familiar whispering behind me.

  Quin had just walked into the room. The whispering was the reaction regular students had when campus royalty showed up, and the Wine Appreciation Society people weren't any different.