Queen of the Clueless (Interim Goddess of Love)

by Mina V. Esguerra

  "Did you go by yourself? That's just… I can't believe you did this without telling me."

  I looked over at Robbie, who had turned away out of courtesy and was checking out the dolphin, and imagined my mom's anger levels rising already. "I'm actually with, um, Sol. And Robbie. You remember Robbie, right?"

  "Yes I remember Robbie. What is this, an out of town date? You were planning to tell me this when?"

  "I'm sorry, it was just really sudden. And it's not like that, it's not a date—"

  He pretended not to hear that, but I knew he did, and I knew that it jabbed at his heart a little.

  "What could be so important that you'd hop on a plane without telling me?"

  "It's a long story… I'm sort of staging an intervention… Sol's boyfriend is really bad news and I'm trying to get her to, well…"

  "Hannah, I can't believe this. I've told you… you can't just tell people how to feel about things. Are you seriously telling me that you went all the way to Naga because of what you think Sol should do about her boyfriend?"

  My mother didn't know I was the Goddess of Love. For now. But what she said still stung. My eye actually twitched.

  "Mom, we're actually in the middle of Tita Annie's party right now. Can I call you later? It's really not as bad as you think."

  "Call me as soon as you can, Hannah."

  "Yes, yes I will."

  I dropped the phone into my bag and didn't care where it fell.

  "Was she mad?" Robbie asked.

  "Yeah."

  Breathe, I told myself. You can do this. But it didn't help.

  "What did she say?" Robbie was now right in front of me, obstructing what would have been my entire space to breathe.

  "She said she told me before not to tell people what to feel."

  "You do this a lot?"

  I cringed. "Yeah. I kind of started with her."

  Robbie took my hand. "Look, you came over here with an instinct, and you care so much about your friend. You might as well finish what you started."

  "But maybe I can't," I said. "Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe he's too much for me to handle, and I should just let him and Sol figure it out. It's not like she asked me to do this or anything."

  "I think that's what makes you a better friend. You don't wait for someone to cry for help. If you think you know what needs to be done, you should do it."

  Did Robbie really believe that?

  He did.

  I had his keys, was at his wheel, he was my passenger. There was something… empowering about this.

  "You're the best person I've ever met," I told him. "Let's do this."

  Chapter 24

  Neil

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  Nf3 d6

  Sol looked really apologetic, which he appreciated, but he wasn't mad. He had already driven the horrendously long way from Manila just to see her mother. A few minutes—or hours, however long this strange party was going to last—wouldn't matter.

  He didn't mind that he didn't get to even shake Mrs. Delloro's hand. Their arrival was expected but still sudden, and someone had quickly told Sol that she absolutely must pass by her house to change. He refused the same invitation, opting to stay at the party instead, despite being inappropriately dressed for the occasion. In any case, he didn't want to be put into someone else's suit and shoes just to fit in.

  He didn't mind the wait. He played chess, and knew that some games ran long; it didn't mean the victory was less satisfying. It would give him time to think about what exactly he would ask for, once he had Mrs. Delloro under his control. Should he go simple, and just get her to agree to Sol moving in with him? Or aim higher, ask for more?

  Neil couldn't help but do an inventory, based on that quick glance he got of his girlfriend's mother. Earrings, necklace, three rings, watch, bracelets. All big, all gaudy, but worth something. Maybe he could work in a housewarming gift request, or two, or three. He knew he should make this count, because he wasn't going to make it a habit to travel to Naga just to shake her hand and ask for things.

  He hoped that the inability to control Sol wasn't genetic, or today's effort would have been in vain. But there was just the one way to check, so he took the chance anyway. That didn't mean he couldn't practice while waiting though.

  He made his way to the bar and introduced himself to a man claiming a rum drink there. Theo Delloro, Sol's uncle. He seemed eager to get back to his table, so Neil made this one count – he asked what car Theo owned. A Hyundai SUV, similar to the one he had driven on the way here. Neil asked if he could drive it while in the city.

  "Here," Theo said, and his keys landed on the bar right in front of Neil.

  "You know what, I changed my mind," Neil said, handing him back the keys. "But maybe I'll talk to you again about it later."

  So that worked. He wasn't sure how, but it did. Within minutes of meeting somebody, they would do anything he asked. He had no clue what people felt when it was happening to them; he didn't see or feel anything different.

  Except that they actually did what he asked.

  It took a while for him to realize that he was making this happen somehow. It started with simple things, like a pen, or a sandwich, or someone's notes. Only Sol seemed strangely unaffected by this. When he needed something (like money) and she was the nearest person around, he had to get it the old fashioned way.

  But for other people it seemed to work, and for other things too, like money, laptops, phones. He tried telling someone to forever do as he asked, and it didn't work. Something about the touch, it wore off eventually. They'd forget that they had given so generously to him, or they'd kind of remember, but couldn't explain why they did it. He would have to come into contact again—a handshake, a fist bump, a light tap on the shoulder—to get something else.

  Taking an actual car from someone else was a bit extreme, but there was no way his own clunker would have made it through the trip. And his neighbor had three cars anyway, and of course he handed over the keys to the SUV with a smile.

  He wondered when this started, because it sure wasn't around just two years ago, when he was first "exiled" to Manila. His parents had overreacted to some of his friends being involved in a shitstorm in the middle of senior year. Someone was high and got into a car, hit a pole, sent someone to a hospital. It wasn't him, he wasn't dumb enough to get high and drive that like, but they punished him for it anyway.

  At nearly the same time, the family finances started to tank, and Neil suspected that they couldn't afford college anywhere in the US, and he had to pay for it by being sent halfway around the world, to a place that was more their home than his. He tried to talk them, everyone, anyone, into not doing it, but they didn't listen.

  Nobody ever really listened to him.

  So that was what haunted his freshman year, until meeting Sol made things better. And then things actually started going his way. It made him all the more eager to keep her around, knowing that she was doing it willingly.

  "You should be dancing," someone beside him said, a girl's voice.

  No, he shouldn't. Dancing wasn't his thing, especially not the flamboyant way the people here were doing it. He couldn't believe that Sol would be related to anyone who considered this an enjoyable activity.

  "I'm fine, thanks," he said automatically.

  "I insist," she said, and took his hand, leading him to the dance floor.

  The unexpected touch nearly made him pull back. Since discovering what his touch could do, he was more careful with it, didn't let anybody just brush up against him.

  And then he recognized who the girl was.

  "Hannah."

  d4 Bg4

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  Bc4 Nf6

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  "Where is Sol?" I asked him, surprised that I was holding his hand, and yet the room hadn't whited out yet. Maybe it was something he turned on at some point?

  He relaxed and actually settled into this. One hand cradling mine, the other coming aroun
d my waist. I tried not to wince and focused on pretending to know what to do with my feet just then. Step step back. Step step back.

  "Why are you here?" he asked.

  Step step back. "I was invited too," I said. "Sol's mom loves me."

  "That's interesting."

  "I know. It's like a reunion, you being here too. Is Sol around?"

  "No, she's… I don't know. They wanted her to dress into something else."

  "Like this, you mean?" I gestured toward my dress, knowing he would be looking.

  "Probably. Maybe it's not so bad after all."

  "Hey, it's Tita Annie's party. She gets to dress us up however she wants. Has Sol talked to you lately though?"

  He blinked. "About what?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know. She just seems really down lately. She talked to me about, you know..." I went on tiptoe so I could put this right in his ear, "getting you some help."

  "She did that," he said. I couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded strained.

  "Yeah. I mean, she's like that sometimes. Thinks she can fix things. People. It can be annoying, especially if you don't need fixing."

  "I don't need fixing. What did she tell you?"

  "Nothing. Just that she isn't happy with something. Maybe it's not related to the getting you help, you know? Because you're still together, right? I mean, she had the idea of taking you here, didn't she? And meeting her mother is so important."

  "What did she tell you?" I felt the tiniest bit of pressure on my hand, and with it the sensation of being on shaky stilts. I took a step but the floor didn't seem level, and had to hang on to him to stay upright.

  The room, it began to turn white.

  Neil

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  0-0-0 Rd8

  Hannah didn't matter. She wasn't supposed to matter. He didn't even need to bring out his best game to deal with her.

  She was Sol's "best friend," but come on. They'd only met in Ford River, and they all hadn't been there that long. Sol would no doubt be mentioning him, but no way would she tell Hannah everything. The point was, when it came down to it, he and Sol shared more with each other than with any "best friend." Hannah's opinion would be worth shit.

  Besides, he already knew that Hannah could be controlled.

  "She thinks you're taking money from her," she said, like an obedient girl. "I don't think you are, because you're not like that. I can't believe she doesn't trust you completely."

  His mouth had formed into a hard line. "Of course she trusts me completely," he told Hannah, and then he felt stupid for feeling that he had to prove something to her.

  The pace she had set for their dancing had fallen into a predictable rhythm, and he could see that she was on auto-pilot now. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar face—it was that basketball player from school, glowering at him from across the room.

  "I thought you were with the other guy, the taller one," Neil said. "Or do they pass you around the team now?"

  She looked in the direction of the guy, and when she turned back to face him, her eyes were clear, like she took no offense. "He's really nice to me. I can't complain."

  "He looks like he wants to beat me up. You'll tell him not to beat me up, right?"

  "Of course. He's not my boyfriend. He has no reason to be jealous. But… but he's an insecure guy. He reminds me of Sol that way."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Sol's not a very secure girlfriend, if you know what I mean."

  Neil wasn't sure why Hannah was saying all of this, but he did just compel her to tell him what Sol said. This must have been part of it. "What do you mean?"

  She danced a little closer to him, to make sure he could hear her. The music changed, middle aged women switched partners, trading one young male dancer for another. Hannah and Neil stood out as actual young people on the dance floor, swaying way off to the music, but he didn't care—he actually wanted to hear this. As long as he kept her close, he knew he'd hear it.

  Hannah said, "You know that her ex cheated on her, right? She was really looking forward to her next visit home, but he was actually seeing someone else. Maybe even before she moved to Ford River."

  "He's a bastard."

  "Very true. Of course. But… but she has trouble trusting people now. I think it's because of him. I mean, it's not like you're doing anything wrong, she's just damaged now, you know?"

  That was not how he saw his girlfriend. She was organized, put together, maybe hurting, but definitely not damaged. He almost wanted to argue with Hannah.

  But what did he know? He couldn't exactly get Sol to admit it.

  "What do you mean, damaged?" he asked.

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  I wanted to throw up, I did.

  I was glad that he couldn't notice. Maybe the blinking lights were good for something after all. I could feel his influence taking over me, just like it did before. The sensation of not breathing, of being paralyzed but moving, it was still there. I could speak, but only because he was letting me, because I was saying something he wanted to hear.

  Why put myself in this position again?

  Because I thought I could do it better this time.

  Was that stupid? Maybe. But that's what happens when an amateur is given this kind of responsibility.

  The fact that I was still in control of my own mind was a comfort. Except it was so hard to say what I wanted to say. Answering a simple question was an invisible tug of war that he didn't even know he was winning. When I let myself go and just said what he wanted, my body relaxed. If I focused a little, tugged a little, my own thoughts actually came out.

  But it made me feel like throwing up.

  The room was a blur of white to me now, and I couldn't hear the music or care what people were seeing me do. I just couldn't mess this up.

  "Do you think she trusts you completely? She doesn't. She doesn't trust anybody," I said.

  "Is she lying to me?" That was an unexpected but welcome response. I just wish I knew what he would be concerned about.

  I took a wild guess.

  "She doesn't talk to her mom about you," I said.

  "That's not true."

  "I'm not kidding. I talked to Tita Annie this morning and she thought that I was the friend Sol was bringing over today. She didn't know you were coming at all."

  "It's… her mom knows about us. I know she does."

  I coughed. "Yes she does, but Sol doesn't tell her that much about you. She doesn't tell me that much about you. You know what that means, right, when a girl does that?"

  He didn't say anything. I swallowed the impulse to vomit and pressed on.

  "It means she doesn't love you, not that way. Not yet. Not after everything you've done for her."

  In my mind, I fell over. It didn't look that way in the real world, but in my invisible tug of war Neil suddenly let go of the rope and I lost my footing, and for a scary moment didn't know which way was up.

  It was the feeling of his hand that actually worked like an anchor, and I squeezed on it, remembering where my hand was, and then my arm, and then my head, and then the rest of me. We were still standing. I was still there.

  And then he said, "Why would she do that to me, Hannah? Doesn't she realize what I've done for her?"

  I pressed on his hand again, and the white room drained of white.

  "Tell me, Neil." I said. "Tell me why you're hurt right now."

  But really, he didn't have to tell me. His heart just opened up to the Interim Goddess of Love, and I knew exactly what he was going to say.

  Saw his thoughts of Sol from the past minute all the way back to when he first saw her, and what he intended to do today.

  Felt the frustration that went as far back as his childhood.

  Heard the pathetic whining that he thought no one ever noticed.

 
I thought I'd discover a reasonable explanation for everything, and that I'd actually be sympathetic when I found the cause. Instead I found a selfish little brat.

  I'm your goddess now, brat.

  "Neil," I said, confidently, into his ear. "You trust me, don't you?"

  "Yes," my new devotee said.

  "Then I ask you, please, leave my friend Sol alone, and do not come back until you've become someone deserving of her. Do you understand me?"

  His eyes were glazed over, but he nodded. "Yes."

  "You will sit here and wait until Joaquin Apolinario takes you back to Manila, and when you're back there you will return everything you've taken that can be returned. Will you do that, Neil?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh, and give me your phone. This is the only place where those pictures of me exist, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Thank you."

  Rd8#

  Chapter 25

  Even after all of that, Sol hadn't shown up at her mother's party yet. So I asked to be driven back to her house. And found her in her bedroom.

  "You're not in a fancy dancing dress," I said.

  She wasn't. In fact, she was in pajamas, sitting at her dresser.

  "I don't want to move in with him," Sol said.

  That was Sol talking to her best friend Hannah.

  It was the first I'd heard of this from her, but forgot that I wasn't supposed to know. "I understand."

  She looked relieved that she was actually saying this aloud. "It was so… overbearing of him. He insisted on coming here and asking my mom. I mean, how could I ask my mom something like that on the phone? Or even in person? Especially when I didn't want to do it?"

  "He can be very convincing."

  "I don't know. Really? He just seemed like he was just rushing through everything."

  She closed her eyes and I rushed to her side, because that's what best friends did, and I thought she would be crying. But she wasn't.

  "I think he stole a car today," Sol said. "That's crazy, isn't it?"

  "He needs help."

  "I told you that already."

  "We're going to make sure he gets help, for real this time. Thank you for telling me about it."