Songs to Get Over You (Playlist #2)

by Jay E. Tria

  He tasted rain as his lips moved down the hollow of Ana’s neck, his kisses planted according to a strict methodology. The crook of her arm next, then the curve of her breasts. Now to trace a line down her torso with his tongue, ending below her navel, and sending his own nerves, his skin, on fire.

  “Miki,” she gasped, her body arching towards him.

  “Hold on,” he murmured, as he slid down the strap of her bra with his teeth. Heat circuited inside him, powering him on, licking his insides like a raging fever. This is real. This is happening, he thought. The same thought that tore his brain open for the rush of panic to come through. The panic that lived in the dominant part of his mind, the part that always told him to stop. To not move. To think. Always think.

  Ana must have read this in his eyes. She captured his mouth in a slow kiss, his face in her hands and whispered, “Hey, stay with me.”

  He focused on her eyes, on the smile she kept there only for him. He took both her hands in his, locking their fingers together with desperate force. This is real, he thought with conviction, the words echoing inside his chest. “I’m here,” he promised. “I’m here.”

  ***

  “Miki. Twenty Questions.”

  “Shoot.”

  Their rain-drenched clothes hung in an orderly line at the foot of Ana’s bed, a chore she insisted on after she made Miki put the covers back on her mattress, clean and crisp as new. They hoped the whistling wind from the open window would do its job of drying their clothes out. Until then they had to huddle under Ana’s many blankets, bodies pressed together for warmth. Ana had the luxury of her own pajama set, since this was her apartment after all. Miki had to make do with Ana’s largest anorak over his bare chest, and a pair of her old jogging pants that rode up his ankles. The rain was wreaking havoc outside, waging war on roofs and trees, sealing the promise of floods down the street. I’m not going anywhere tonight, he thought, pressing his smile on the top of Ana’s head.

  “Was I really your first kiss?” she murmured, arms tucked to her chest between them.

  Miki decided to search his head for memories, his hand drawing small circles, big circles on her bare arm. “There might have been someone in high school. On a dare at the school fair. Or someone at the prom.”

  Ana punched his chest. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

  “Ow. Because I’ve honestly forgotten about them.” It was easy to forget things. Little joys like school fair kisses and prom dates didn’t always get promoted to happy memories, the kind that would survive the course of adolescence and stay with you through the pains of adulthood. Not if they weren’t shared with someone who mattered.

  “Twenty Questions,” she said again, her eyes wide open now, as if poised to catch him lying.

  He grinned. “I get double points on the next one then?”

  “Was this your first time?”

  Miki sighed. “I would think it was quite obvious.”

  “You’re a natural.”

  “You don’t need to lie to me.” He rolled his eyes, glaring at the cracks on the ceiling. “My manliness isn’t that fragile.”

  “I think I have a pink baby tee in here somewhere that’s your size. You can wear it to band practice tomorrow.”

  “I’d be honored,” he promised, kissing the tip of her nose. “Ana. Twenty Questions.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Was this part of the plan?”

  “This. You. All of it and none of it.”

  Miki burst out laughing. He pulled Ana’s head toward him, tucking it under his chin, caging in his arms this girl of numbers and logic who was getting poetic on him. Such a fast learner. “Liar,” he said in her ear.

  Ana wriggled out of his clutches and rolled over, pinning him beneath her. Miki tugged at the length of her hair, angling his mouth towards hers, already thinking of a new methodology.

  Take Me

  She spins me around her long finger

  Without knowing the danger

  What was the point anyway?

  When I would kiss her any day

  As soon as I’m allowed to.

  You say, “So near yet so far

  I’d like a turn with your heart

  She doesn’t need it anyway

  When she breaks you every day

  Though she never means to.”

  My world goes tumbling down

  Tumbling down

  You were on the other side of the fall

  Tell me you’ll be with me forever

  Tell me you’ll be with me for now

  I think I’ll take what I can get

  Honey give me what I can get

  You say “Why so kind, stranger?”

  I say, “Take me now, don’t linger.”

  Take my hand, take me far away

  I don’t—

  I won’t miss her anyway

  Now that you’re here and I see you

  My world goes tumbling down

  Tumbling down

  You were on the other side of the fall

  Tell me you’ll be with me forever

  Tell me you’ll be with me for now

  I think I’ll take what I can get

  Honey give me what I can get.

  The rain washes away bad omens

  As daylight breaks on our faces

  I say, “Take me now, don’t linger”

  But I promise not to change

  It might take me too long

  I’m sorry baby I can’t change. (Miki)

  October 8, Thursday, morning

  The string broke on the next chord, lashing Miki’s arm and leaving a welt. “Gah. Mother of—”

  “What? What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  He gritted his teeth, rubbing at the sore strip of skin. Guitar strings break all the time. He could have told Ana that. But these days she had been seeing evil omens in everything. From a broken heel, to an old dent in his car door, to the ice cream man who ran out of the cheese and ube flavors she wanted. Nothing’s going right! she would wail. Miki imagined Ana would declare Armageddon if he had told her the brand new string on his guitar broke. She had been in this state the past week, her mood a swinging pendulum as the shadow of her Marketing class presentation loomed closer.

  Miki thought of a string snapped in two because it was wound up too tight. He was right. School was terrible for one’s sanity.

  Ana lay on her stomach on the spotless floor of her apartment, surrounded by encyclopedic library books and an opened pack of toilet paper. Miki was sprawled on her bed—with the standing promise to fix the linen later—his acoustic guitar tucked in his lap. Thus was the order and setting of their new daily habit. One that started once Miki arrived at five in the morning with a couple of hours of sleep to sustain him, ending a couple of hours later so Ana could rush to work. Two hours a day to build a passable marketing plan from the polished Executive Summary. A few hours more, if Miki found himself driving straight to Ana’s apartment after a long night of gigs.

  He heard the distinct rattled tapping of fingers against keyboard before Ana closed the laptop with a snap and let out a low groan. “This sucks. Everything sucks.”

  “Of course it doesn’t.”

  “I’m going to fail. I aced every Math and Accounting subject known to humanity and I’m going to fail Marketing for crying out loud.”

  “You won’t. And you can’t. Your boss won’t reimburse a repeat.”

  Ana buried her head in the nest of her arms. Miki realized too late that the reminder of her MBA being funded by her company wasn’t exactly a helpful thing to say. He reached out and plopped his hand on her shoulder, giving her a slight shake.

  “How can you still think that?” He leaned close so his lips could brush her earlobe. “We’ve been at this for weeks.”

  “We’ve been cramming,” was her muffled wail.

  “Yes, that’s why it’s going to be brilliant!” Miki slid down the bed and settled on the floor next to Ana. “We’re
accomplishing an entire semester of work in a matter of weeks. We are working a miracle here, woman.” His wide yawn toned down the strength of his cheerleader speech. His body was still resenting the daily 4 am alarm. “Besides, my early mornings have to count for something.”

  Ana peered at him, bottom lip quivering behind the mess of hair scattered on her face. “They do. Thank you.”

  “Extremely early mornings for someone like me with a 10 a.m. normal waking hour.”

  “I know, I know. Thank you, I mean it. And I’m sorry for putting you through this.”

  “It’s okay. I know you need me.” It took Miki a full minute to tuck the strewn locks behind her ears. He chuckled, ending the chore with a kiss on the corner of her lips. “Back to making miracles.”

  Miki leaned his weight at the foot of the bed, knotted the broken string and made a mental note to check his guitar frets. He made do with the remaining three strings, murmuring lyrics under his breath, trying a new beat on the next chorus. The clicks and taps of Ana’s keyboard blended with the tilts of his voice, until her song halted again.

  “Why aren’t you asking me yet?” she burst out.

  Miki’s fingers jumped a chord. “Ask you what?”

  Ana rolled over on her back, abandoning her work to glower at the ceiling. “Why I even bother with this shit. My officemates think I’m crazy. A CPA doesn’t need an MBA. This is self-inflicted torture!”

  “No one really needs an MBA,” Miki agreed.

  Ana gritted her teeth. “Thanks.”

  “Seriously though, your officemates are stupid.”

  “Thanks for the very persuasive argument. Let me tell them that first thing today. I’ll get my boss to sign off the memo so it’s an official announcement.” Apparently Ana’s sarcastic streak came out when she was hyper-stressed.

  “Hey.” Miki pulled Ana’s shoulder toward him, forcing her to take her face out of her hands and look at him. He thought stress looked adorable on her, though saying that aloud might not be helpful either. Not right now. So he declared a different observation, one that had sunk into him in the early mornings he had spent sharing her deadline, in nights that his eyes would pan the crowd to catch her face, and nights he spent crumpling her crisp sheets, trying new methods, learning the map of her skin.

  Miki cradled her face in his hands, his thumb on her chin. “You’re the girl who sees your life two steps ahead. And when you see a vision like that you don’t look longingly at it. You act on it. You claim it. You make sure you get it. That’s why you’re bothering with all of this shit. Because you already see a better version of yourself and you’re working towards it. Even when people around you don’t think it’s worth the pain.”

  Ana sniffed. “That’s a better argument.”

  “I have my moments.” Miki gave her a smug smile. “And you do it well too, the way you look at your future.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t let its brightness blind you. You make sure to keep your eyes on what you have now.”

  He thought of Kim and how he let go of the girl who made the daily decision to love him because he saw a future that she didn’t fit into. He thought of himself, of how he focused on today, on tiny wins that he alone celebrated, without doing anything about the tomorrow that he wanted. He thought of Shinta, the man who understood that patience wasn’t the same as waiting, wanting without motion. Patience was about knowing when it was time to translate daydreams into reality.

  Maybe his analogies were weak, maybe even out of context. He probably needed hindsight to know better, but he wasn’t any good on that either. Besides, he and Ana were only talking about school.

  Ana was nodding, her cheek warm in his hand. “Head in the clouds. Heart on the ground,” she said, a triumphant smile breaking the stiff line of her lips.

  “I don’t think that’s a real saying.”

  “I made it up. Doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

  “You’re right,” Miki conceded after a short pause.

  “I’m always right.” Ana sat up, pulling her computer to her lap and attacking the keys with renewed vigor. “You better get used to it. Now don’t you have lyrics you need to work on? That last beat sounded flat to me.”

  October 10, Saturday, afternoon

  Ana turned to Miki, her face a pale mask. She took the crook of his arm in a pincer grip, her eyes pleading for time to stop, or to fast forward and skip this next couple of hours altogether. “This isn’t my normal.”

  Pain was shooting up Miki’s arm at Ana’s iron hold, but he returned the favor with a gentle pressure on her waist. “I believe you.”

  “I do presentations at the office all the time. I even presented to the Board of Directors once.” Ana’s voice was rising to a high pitched wail. “And they loved me.”

  “How could they not?”

  “This subject will be the death of me.”

  “It will be over soon.”

  “There’s no shame in having a little bit of stage fright,” Son put in, his teeth bared in a cheerful grin. He came up behind Ana, an acoustic guitar slung over his neck. “It is my sincere belief that frazzled nerves make me play better.”

  “That’s a matter of debate,” Nino argued with a flat smile, ducking when Son aimed an elbow at his side. He lugged his beat up box drum with expert fingers, placing a reassuring hand on Ana’s shoulder as he went. “Don’t worry. When they see us hot and famous rock stars going in there, they’d hardly pay you notice. So you can step off your panic button as early as now.”

  Miki flashed Ana an open grin, nodding his head towards his bandmates. “This is how they help.”

  Ana tried to laugh, but it seemed that her shot nerves allowed her to release only a grimace.

  “The professor is here!” someone called from inside the classroom, the gun shot that signaled the race of students through the door.

  A heavy-set man strode through the hallway with short, deliberate steps toward them, donning a black-and-white business suit that was as stiff as his gait and as serious as the look he gave the last stragglers scattered outside his classroom. Miki quickly understood the root of Ana’s anxiety.

  Nino and Son exchanged looks. Son exhaled a shrill chuckle, the certain sign that his stage fright was beginning to crawl on his skin.

  Miki found Ana’s hand and pulled her towards the open door. He had a feeling this was the type of professor who locked out latecomers, and he wasn’t going to let their early morning efforts to go to waste. He turned to Son and Nino, and finally to Ana, trying his own leader-of-the-band voice. “Let’s do this.”

  ***

  It was Ana who decided on the sample toilet paper brand, the target market and demographic, geographic priorities, and other minute details of the tactical action plans. But it was Miki’s idea to start her class presentation with a jingle. To get consumer buy-in and to promote brand stickiness, he had told her in a firm voice, as if he really knew what he was talking about.

  His throat locked for a few moments when they stepped inside the classroom, a feeling that had never descended upon him in his time as a student. He blamed the taut professor’s eyes. It was fixed on him, pinning him at the threshold, before the same hard gaze landed on Nino and Son. But Nino had entered the room while waving to the class, shooting finger guns and lopsided grins to the girls, nodding to the boys, and Son was not far behind cheering, “How are you doing Marketing class?” so that the professor’s evil spell broke.

  Ana managed a small laugh before she went to the front of the room and introduced her presentation, then her guests. Girls were indeed tittering as Nino continued awarding them with big smiles and lofty salutes. Boys murmured their names, titles of Trainman songs, and moved their chairs closer to the front. Miki grinned. These were nerves he was used to.

  Nino settled on his drum box and counted off, ahonetwothreefour, and Miki and Son strummed their acoustic guitars in unison. A few beats in, the lyrics flowed out of Miki’s mouth, the soun
d complete and clear in the apt silence.

  “Anyone who ever held you/ Could tell how soft you feel/ Anyone who ever touched you/ Would know how strong each ply is.”

  Ana’s giggles floated over Nino’s claps. Miki shot her a look, wiping the smile off his face as he continued the song. This is a toilet paper love song, he had told Ana, and he had to deliver on the promised feelings.

  “After all the rolls that hurt me/ You’re the one who isn’t faking/ You’ll never know how much I love you/ My Ultra Strong, Cotton Roll, oh…”

  “You, you clean my bum so well/It’s true, my body can tell/ So soft and strong, I’m in love with each ply/ My bum is smooth, I’ve got stars in my eyes.”

  Nino and Son crooned together, right on cue: “Ultra Strong, Cotton Roll/ Ultra Strong, Cotton Roll.”

  “My bum’s new best friend,” Miki finished, his fingers flying through the strings, ears open for Nino’s signal. When the last clap hit the drum box, Miki and Son started the guitar fade, whispering Ultra Strong, Cotton Roll/ Ultra Strong, Cotton Roll a few more times before the halt.

  The room was thick with silence when the jingle ended. Miki could feel the professor’s eyes burning a mark on his face, but his gaze was on Ana. She was laughing, and looking only at him, color washing over her face. She had reclaimed the front of the room and started her piece, wearing a confident smile when the loud applause broke, fueled by Nino and Son’s raucous clapping.

  ***

  Miki ached for a banana cue the minute Ana’s class was over. He couldn’t explain the urge. Maybe it was being in school again, or maybe it was the high of the applause after their performance, and the applause after Ana’s presentation.

  When the cheering had died down, the professor released a few words of criticism, spotting a few chinks in Ana’s data, a couple of holes in her analysis. Miki wouldn’t put it past the man to figure out that this project was a product of frantic cramming. But if he did the professor didn’t mention it, and instead he ended his somber speech with two curt nods.