by Thessa Lim
Anne and the Cranny
“Your core is not aligned,” Zack, her personal trainer, scolded.
“And you’re busting my ass!” Anne wailed at him as she grunted to correct her form and continued her set of squats.
“So that your ass will look like a work of art.” Zack winked at her as sweat rolled down all over her body.
“Are you saying it still isn’t?” she hissed in between breaths as the barbell on her shoulders bore down on her even more.
Ten more squats to go. Shit.
“I’m saying it can be finer. Fourteen more.”
“What? Nine left!”
“Thirteen more ’cause you griped.”
She adjusted her fingers around the bar and flipped him off. They both laughed. Anne did thirteen more to finish the set and then sank onto the floor.
“Water break. Then we have to do dumbbells.”
Anne groaned but knew this was why she maintained a personal trainer at the gym. She needed somebody to keep her committed to her program.
Anne had kept her “baby fat” all the way until her high school years. When she slimmed down while studying at the university, she expanded her wardrobe. People began looking her way when she walked into a room, and she learned to speak up more often. With her father’s generous allowance, she began hanging out with the in-crowd, dining at fancy restaurants, and partying at the hippest bars. She vowed then to keep her body as fit as she could.
When she availed of a free weight training trial after she started working, that vow she made years ago took on a life of its own. She could not stay away from the gym for longer than three days—unless on vacation. And even then, she would pay a visit to the hotel facility. If it smelled right, she could stay for hours. She had gone to the same gym even though new hipper ones had sprung about the metro as fitness became a trendy interest among young urbanites. Why Zack, her personal trainer since she started, continued to stay with the same gym for years always puzzled her though. She was certain that the newer ones gave better pay and had better facilities for trainers to work with. She reckoned, if he transferred to another gym, she would follow suit.
“Anything happening this weekend?” Zack asked her as they headed for the water dispenser.
“Yeah. My boyfriend is coming over for dinner with my parents tonight.”
“Meet the parents? Getting serious there?” He smirked. Anne had never been in a long-term relationship. The longest relationship she had lasted only eight months.
“I’ve reached that age when I need to start introducing my guy to my parents.”
“Is there such a thing?” He chuckled.
“I think so. It’s so that they’ll take me seriously. They’ll think I’m trying to settle down.”
“And are you?”
“No.” She grinned at him.
He laughed at this and threw her towel at her face.
One of the most beautiful china sets they owned was meticulously laid out on the dining table. The plates and bowls were all lined along the rim with gold coating. The silver spoons, forks, and other cutleries all had a similar lustrous yellow coating on the edge of their handles.
Anne squirmed. Her parents usually ordered the maids to get the fanciest dining ware when they aimed to either impress or intimidate the guest. Since it was her boyfriend who was coming over tonight, she guessed it was the latter.
Daniel was wearing a crisp blue-collared shirt that highlighted his broad chest and handsome face. His look for the evening made him fit in with the rest of the dining party. Anne’s father, Raul, was dressed in a collared white cotton Lacoste shirt. Her mother, Priscilla, had on a tailored ecru Kate Spade dress. Her eldest sister, Elizabeth, was seated across her mother with her husband, John, both looking pristine in their white ensemble: a petite flute sleeve dress and a crisp shirt with cream chinos. Her second-eldest sister, Catherine, donned a black suit—no . . . a black pencil dress. Anne, clad in a yellow sundress with floral prints, was sitting beside her mother.
“Daniel works in the business development of H&M in Makati.” Anne beamed at Daniel. When her parents’ expressions did not change, she realized she would have to make her sales pitch better. Good thing, selling was what she did for a living. “He’s the youngest in their team, but he’s already one of the senior executives. H&M has grown quite well in Manila.”
“Is H&M that Swedish clothing store with a mass market?” Priscilla looked at Raul, her eyebrows furrowed.
Anne fumed.
Her parents had loved her brother-in-law, John, right away because they had business relations with his parents. Knowing that Elizabeth would join the business if they married, they had been all the more enthusiastic about him. Equally so, John’s parents loved Elizabeth. With a master’s degree in business administration under her belt, she plunged into John’s family business right away after the wedding. The in-laws would have claimed her as their biological child if they could.
Catherine was a corporate lawyer who spent days and nights at the office. She made Anne squirm with her knowledge of the news, social events, and business. Their parents never pried into her dating life nor checked what she was eating or how work was. Her debate-like stance in things she believed in was probably warning enough. Their respect for her only grew more when she topped the bar exams. Anne would not be surprised if she started her own firm in the future.
Meanwhile, Anne was a sales executive at a European IT firm. No academic honors, no business to claim, an employee. To her parents, she was just somebody who marketed things to companies and begged them to purchase the firm’s software. No matter how hard she worked, and even if she had already won several accounts for her firm, her parents had yet to acknowledge her career. All this infuriated her.
Perhaps introducing Daniel would make them see me in a new light, a more grown-up light.
Raul took a sip from his wineglass before answering. “Yes, honey. I think that’s the one.” He winked at Anne and said to his wife, “You liked their suit collection.”
“So you’ve shopped there before,” Anne spoke matter-of-factly, the pitch of her voice controlled.
“How did you two meet?” Priscilla brushed off her comment with a wave of her hand.
“He’s a friend of Jamie, my officemate.”
“And . . . ?”
“And we were out for drinks once, and Daniel happened to be there. Jamie introduced us.”
“So you met at a bar?” Priscilla squirmed at the thought.
“Yes, but he’s more of an acquaintance of a colleague.” Anne finally snapped, “Don’t make it sound that way.”
“Don’t bark at me, Anne. I’m trying to get to know the situation.”
“Jamie and I went to the same college at the University of the Philippines,” Daniel offered, rubbing Anne’s hand under the table.
“Ahh . . .” Priscilla smiled and peered at him more closely. She apparently appreciated his educational background. “Your name is Daniel de Sola, right? Are you in any way related to Dominic de Sola?”
Daniel cleared his throat and avoided the suddenly intrigued gazes of Anne’s parents. “Yes, he’s my father.”
Anne breathed, and her shoulders lifted. “Have you done business with him before, Mom?” she asked.
“Yes, we have,” Priscilla answered but looked up to the ceiling, an eyebrow raised, trying to recall something. “He imports some of the hardware we need to fashion our jewelry. He has some of the best quality materials.” Anne’s parents were in the jewelry business.
“Ahh, then our parents know each other.” Anne beamed at Daniel.
He nodded but avoided her eyes.
From there, Priscilla inquired a lot more of Daniel. He answered her questions politely, but his answers got more and more clipped over the hour.
After dinner, as Daniel was in the foyer, getting ready to leave, Anne slid her arms around his waist. The large molave door loomed behind them, foreboding of a brief rendezvous that evening. Anne tugged him ba
ck toward the living room, where her parents and sisters had gathered for hot chocolate and chitchat, but he did not budge. She spread her palms over his chest and caressed it, throwing him a look while biting her lower lip. She grinned up at him—mischief all over her face—but he only raised an eyebrow in amusement.
“Do you want to hang out? Maybe we can go somewhere?” Anne suggested.
“I think I’ll head home. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.”
She pouted.
“Some other time.” He smiled and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
On the forehead? I want the works tonight: cheeks, lips, neck, and chest. Anywhere further sounds even better.
When he did not kiss her again, she retorted, “And how come I’ve never met your family?”
“They’re always so busy.”
“Your parents suck.”
He smiled. “You can meet my cousin Ronnie sometime.”
“Is he the one who kicked your Labrador when you were little and made you cry?”
“Yeah, the very one. And tickled me until I peed.” He chuckled to himself and then looked at her. “Good night, babe. I’ll see you on Friday, okay?”
“Fine. See you then.” She pouted in the most ungracious manner she could. “But I need more kisses.”
When he leaned down to kiss her cheek, she pulled his face to hers and gave him a smack right on the lips. She wanted to deepen the kiss, but he cupped her face and held her back.
“Your parents might be offended if they find us like this in your home.”
Anne let out a heavy sigh, and her shoulders slumped. “I don’t care.”
Daniel chuckled. “Well, I care. I might want to visit again.”
She beamed at him. He laid a kiss goodbye on her lips.
When Anne walked back into the living room, she glared at her mother.
“Mom, what was with the fifty questions?” Anne interrupted the conversation as Catherine explained the latest news on the Senate’s probe into a corruption scandal.
Catherine stopped midsentence and cleared her throat. “So, I guess we’re talking about that.” She turned to her mother and smiled. “Mom?”
Priscilla sighed and looked up at her youngest daughter, who stood in front of them with a hand on her hip. “You brought him here for us to meet him. I wanted to know him better. I was giving him due attention.”
Anne rolled her eyes. “You could’ve been more pleasant.”
Priscilla shushed Anne. “Men have to endure these uncomfortable situations. It’s natural for parents of ladies to be inquisitive.”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember John being questioned as much.”
John shifted in his seat but remained silent. Elizabeth merely smiled at the mention of her husband and waited for Priscilla to answer the rebuttal.
Before Priscilla could say anything, Raul pulled Anne by the wrist and made her sit down on the couch. “Come here, dear. Have some cocoa. I got your favorite one.”
Anne frowned as her father slid an arm around her shoulders. “I thought we’d run out. Where’d you get this?” she asked.
Raul glanced at the cup in his hand. “Bought it at Rustan’s.”
“Dad, I told you I buy this in bulk, so I can get it cheaper,” Anne groaned.
Raul chuckled. “I just bought a few packs. Can’t I buy something for my little cuddly bear?”
Anne groaned. Elizabeth and Catherine snickered.
Ugh!
CHAPTER FIVE
The Feasting on Lechon
The sun had set that Friday afternoon. The four girls were at Jazmine’s apartment enjoying the lechon Zara brought, while Liam napped in the bedroom. Jazmine’s apartment was a modest one-bedroom old unit in the outskirts of Mandaluyong City. The fittings and furniture had scratches, chipped-off corners, and tears here and there, but the earthy colors that adorned the place, along with Jazmine’s upkeep, still made a visitor feel like there were chocolate crinkles baking in the oven.
“I’m breaking open the dessert. It’s an English Battenberg cake,” Laine announced and laid a glass pot on the table.
“Laine, you’re a great cook. But your baking . . .” Zara peered in to get a better look. “It looks like it’s about to cave in.”
Laine pouted at her. “Even if it caves, it might taste good. See, it’s pink and yellow on the inside. Very pretty.” She took out a knife and cut four slices from the cake and served them.
“Gals, I want to thank you for always coming over.” Jazmine looked each of her friends in the eyes. “Every day since Liam was born, one of you has been over here.”
“Well, Zara has us on a schedule,” Anne grumbled, picking up a crispy piece of pork skin and popping it into her mouth.
Jazmine’s eyes widened, and she gawked at Zara. “Seriously?”
“Yes, Jaz. Somebody has to wield an iron hand around here and make sure everybody helps out. With you breastfeeding, making sure Liam’s this is clean and Liam’s that is clean, it’s moi.” Zara pointed to her chest and winked at her.
Jazmine sniffed and squeezed Zara’s hand. “And, Anne, thanks for convincing your parents to loan me Ate[9] Helen when I go back to work. I’ll definitely pay Ate for her help. It’s the least I can do.”
“Not necessary, but I’m sure she’d like that. Do that instead of sending money to your unsupportive family,” Anne grumbled.
“I can’t just let my sister down, you know. Christine has been doing so well at school.” Jazmine hesitated. “I sent her some money in our joint account and saw that she’d withdrawn a part of it. But she never sent me an email nor a text. I think . . . our parents have forbidden her to talk to me.”
Laine made a face and inquired, “Are you going to keep sending money to your parents?”
“I don’t have enough to give them. Maybe only during the summer when Christine doesn’t have school.”
Suddenly Jazmine’s phone rang. Three short rings before Jazmine let her eyes drop and scan the screen. When Jazmine saw who was calling, her body tensed and her eyes widened.
“It’s Tita[10] Fiona,” Jazmine breathed. She plucked the phone with both hands.
Anne took another piece of lechon from the serving platter. “Who’s that?”
Jazmine gulped. “Braden’s mother.”
Zara made a face and mumbled, “Word’s gone out. About time.”
“I don’t want to talk to her,” Jazmine groaned and frowned. “How could she have known? I only texted Braden—”
“You texted him?” Anne growled.
Jazmine stared at the screen where the name “Fiona Palma” blinked and prodded her to pick up.
“I had to,” she argued. “He’s Liam’s father.”
“Jaz?” Laine gestured to the phone. “Are you going to take the call or not?”
Jazmine’s finger shook as she tapped on the green button to answer. She walked away from the table.
“H-hi, Tita,” she greeted.
The once-familiar voice made her insides clench. “Hi, Jazmine. How are you?”
They made the customary chitchat, asked each other how they were, and said they were fine.
Why is she calling?
“Jazmine, I heard about what happened . . . ,” Fiona started.
“W-what are you talking about, Tita?” Jazmine pursed her lips.
“That—” Fiona sighed. “That you got pregnant before you and my son broke up. And that you’d given birth . . .”
A long silence followed.
Jazmine took a deep breath. “That’s true.”
When Fiona did not say anything, Jazmine spoke up, “The baby’s healthy . . . Is that why you called?”
Fiona let out another sigh. “Can I meet him? Or her?”
Jazmine thought she heard a catch in the woman’s voice.
Oh man.
“The baby’s a boy . . . I-I think that should be fine.” Jazmine cringed.
It’d be very, very awkward, but it would be f
ine.
“I . . .” The break in Fiona’s voice was audible this time. “I want to help you . . . to help care for him.”
When the call ended, the cold had left her hands, but they still trembled. Jazmine turned around to face her friends. Zara was talking about the breakup with Jake.
Laine looked up. “Jaz, what did she say? Are you okay?”
“Tita wants to help look after Liam,” Jazmine answered, her breathing evening out. “She’s coming here next week to meet him.”
“I say no,” Anne declared and crossed her arms. “If Braden doesn’t want anything to do with Liam, his family shouldn’t either.”
Jazmine let out a breath and sat down. “I don’t know, Anne . . . I could really use the help. She said she can help me support him.” Jazmine looked at Laine and Zara. “What do you girls think?”
Anne huffed out a breath and glared.
Laine shook her head. “Uh, I’m not completely convinced that they should meet either. Braden hasn’t even come over. What if this angers him, and it spurs conflict in their family?”
Jazmine buried her face in her hands. “I can’t refuse her her grandson. I now know how that must hurt.”
Zara sighed. “I can’t make up my mind—whether I like it or not. Who told her anyway?”
“Braden?” Jazmine suggested.
“It can’t be. He wouldn’t have the balls to break something like this to his mother,” Anne cut in. “It must’ve been Gabe.”
Jazmine gasped. “Gabe doesn’t know anything about this.”
“You don’t think so?” Anne challenged.
Jazmine’s shoulders slumped, and she shrugged. “What does it matter? Tita’s coming next week.”
“Is she coming with Braden?” Anne growled. “Do you want us to be here?”
Jazmine shook her head. “She said it would only be her.”
Fiona had always welcomed Jazmine to family dinners and get-togethers, made sure that Jazmine had tasted every dish on the table, and urged her to join them in out-of-town trips. Jazmine had tried to accept most of the older woman’s invitations, even though she sometimes felt out of place in their celebrations. Their family surely had more to spend than hers ever did. But being the girlfriend of Fiona’s only child, Jazmine was always received with open arms.
