What You Wanted

by Mina V. Esguerra

  His “girls.” Because Damon wasn’t celibate, throughout this two-year Geraldine “project” of his. She would have seen him at one time or another with other women, and gotten used to it. They would have come and gone, and she would have learned not to be threatened. Because something about her kept drawing him back, and it was stronger than the actual sex he was having with others.

  With me. (?)

  Stop it. That’s not what this is about.

  This is about: Damon is fine. Damon is sexy. Damon has had enough of your shit.

  “I’m surprised,” I said. “It’s three hours in a dark room with him. They should have known a good thing when it showed up.”

  I let that statement and what it meant rise up and then fall between us.

  Geraldine smiled. “I guess now I know why he kept going to these things with me.”

  Did I just let her take a swing and hit me, three times? But then Thad came back, and then Naomi did, and finally Damon, and instead I focused on keeping my smile up as malt balls crumbled between my teeth.

  ***

  It was a long musical. Entertaining, sure, as far as adaptations of King Lear went. By the time we got out of the theater, most of the shops at the mall had closed. Thad and Naomi said their goodbyes and left, almost as soon as we got out.

  “You have a ride, right?” Shayla asked me.

  I nodded. “Staying over at Damon’s.”

  “Can you walk me to my car, Andrea?”

  “Sure.” I reached behind me and touched Damon’s arm. “Walking Shayla out. I’ll be back. Nice seeing you again, Geraldine.”

  Geraldine gave me her perfect social-media smile. “Bye, Andrea.”

  Shayla and I turned a corner before she spoke again. And when she did, it was a furious whisper. “What the fuck was that all about?”

  “What?” I wondered if playing dumb would work this time. “I never liked King Lear too.”

  “Not that, drama queen. Everything else. That girl in black who didn’t talk to anyone. You blatantly making out with Damon. What the hell?”

  Come on. It wasn’t blatantly...well, maybe we kissed a lot tonight. While waiting in the foyer. Right before the lights went out, inside the theater. Several times while the musical was happening in front of us. And so on. The seats weren’t reserved and we were a relatively large group so we weren’t sitting together, which was a relief because I didn’t need the problem of Geraldine being on the other side of Damon.

  We sort of had to course-correct into steamier territory when Damon and I noticed that Geraldine didn’t invite any of their other friends to this night at the theater.

  Had I not tagged along and invited mine, it would have been just him and her.

  We’d noticed it at the same time, minutes before we walked in to take our seats, and he’d asked her who else was coming. When she had said no one else, he paused and stepped behind me, pretending to fix the zipper that held my dress up.

  “I’m sorry,” he’d whispered into my hair, near my ear. “I thought more of them would be here.”

  “I’m not sorry. We can still do this.” I meant it when I said that.

  Shayla knew me well enough. “You don’t suck face with a guy that much in public, even when you really like him. What was that?”

  “Theater,” I told her, sighing. “Damon and I are putting on a show.”

  “I could tell, Andrea. Who is it for? The girl in black? Because she wanted to stab you in the eye so many times tonight, I could tell.”

  “You noticed? I guess it worked.”

  Shayla stopped walking. “Is that all?”

  “It’s late, Shay. You should go home.”

  We were maybe ten steps away from exiting the mall into the parking building, and she wasn’t budging.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  The main reason why Shayla was such a good friend was this—she knew you. She noticed things. She bothered to ask, and demanded to know, if you were okay. When everything fell apart with Thad I knew I had to make excuses not to see her too, because she’d know.

  “It’s Thad, isn’t it?” Shayla asked.

  I winced, but not from the original pain of it; it was because I had been caught. I would have gone my whole life never mentioning that to anyone, but now too many people were finding out.

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because he spent the entire night wanting to get out of there as soon as he could. I mean, musicals could be boring, but he looked like he was suffering. Is it him?”

  Well, at least she thought so too, and none of this was in vain. “It’s done,” I said. “We’re okay now. Well, kind of.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking. I knew you always kind of had a thing for him. When did you do something about it?”

  “You know when I went to Batangas for a weekend by myself?”

  “Oh my God. He was there? Didn’t he marry Naomi…?”

  I nodded. “He met her a few weeks flater, yeah.”

  “Shit. Who knows?”

  I shrugged. “Him. My sister. Damon. You. Do the others know? Do you talk about this?”

  Shayla shook her head. “Not when Naomi’s around. I think Yel suspected something for a while, but she hasn’t asked about it since they got married.”

  “I can’t talk about it right now, okay?” I said. “But I had some unfinished business with Thad and I wanted to see him suffer a little.”

  “And let me guess...Damon has unfinished business with that other girl and you’re helping him with that?”

  “I don’t expect you to support it, Shay.”

  “No, I don’t. But I wish I knew that you were feeling this. We could have done something.”

  Could have done what? Would she have chosen my side, stopped hanging out with him? Treated Naomi like an intruder? Shayla was a decent person, and she didn’t need this to mess with her head.

  “No, I’m not dragging you down with me,” I told her.

  “You like Damon, though? He’s all right?”

  “I’m having the best time, don’t worry. I just wish he didn’t have a ghost hovering around him too.”

  Shayla pulled me into a hug. “You know what you have to do then. Exorcise it or befriend it.”

  I didn’t need to walk all the way back to the theater, because Damon met me halfway. No Geraldine appendage. No one else really, because it was almost midnight, and only the guard on the other side of the hallway was there with us.

  I’d been hugging that damn shirt all night but it was never as comforting as it was that moment, when I put my arms around him and squeezed, tight. His lips were already searching for mine and when they met I felt like a great burden had been lifted from my shoulders.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Are you?”

  “Let’s go home,” Damon said.

  Chapter 14

  “Does it look cooked?”

  “It’s not flaky.”

  “Yeah, but sashimi is completely raw and you eat it.”

  “This is not sashimi. I don’t want to die.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “I know, monster. Wait another minute.”

  By noon the next day, we were both kneeling in front of an improvised grill, watching four pieces of fish cook (slowly), on an island beach cove just off Zambales.

  Something about last night at the theater bothered us, even when we had already gotten back to his place. It was buzzing around, and we couldn’t shoo it away. I was so lusty for him hours before but when we were finally on his bed I didn’t have the energy to do anything but rub the tip of my nose against his neck.

  “We could just sleep,” he’d said.

  “But that shirt…” I’d groaned. “So sexy…”

  His laughter was the best thing I’d heard all night. “You can take it off me another time.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s like we have bad vibes ri
ght now.”

  “Hey, we planned it together. You think it worked? Thad looked like he was in hell. Wasn’t the musical.”

  “At least.”

  It was supposed to have felt like a victory, but instead I was still unsettled, uneasy, like I had lost and didn’t know it yet.

  “Have you ever been to Anawangin?” I’d asked, suddenly.

  Hours later, we were there. It was a bright, beautiful day. The drive north felt effortless, even if we had little sleep. We checked into a resort along the beach in Zambales, left the car and our heavier things there, and then hired a small boat to take us to the island.

  This was something I did, by the way. Take off, no plans, do something crazy. Not everyone was up for it; my sister had long since asked to be left out of the invite list, my parents only requested that wherever it was, it should have phones or a decent signal. Damon didn’t even blink when he said yes, and he packed like a pro. I had the advantage of having been there before, but with a group of friends.

  He began doing this too, he explained, when his grandmother died. All holidays had been spent with her, and when she passed away, he had time and no place to be. So he took off for anywhere.

  I knew there weren’t any establishments on the island so we’d stopped by a local wet market and bought fresh fish, charcoal, a lighter, other things we needed. There weren’t any portable grills but I did find a clay pot and a handheld aluminum grill we could put on top of it.

  “The fire isn’t strong enough,” Damon said now, glaring at the grill as if it would make it burn faster.

  “You’re cute,” I said. “And so grumpy. Step back and let it cook properly.”

  He was cute, even here, in what seemed like a totally different environment. Suits, money, car left behind. Damon on this island was sweaty, in shorts. Grumpy because he was hungry, but it was adorable because it wasn’t interfering with my good mood at all.

  Later, when I was finally satisfied that our food was safe and edible, he grabbed his share faster than anything and attacked it on a square of aluminum foil, eating rice and tomatoes with it using his hands.

  “How’s the fish?” I asked him.

  “We should put the rest on the grill right now,” he growled, still grumpy. I watched him do it, amused, and the sizzle of it cooking seemed to have relaxed him finally. He dropped back down on the sand beside me and gave me a fishy, smoky kiss. “Tastes good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You taste good too.”

  “That’s what I was thanking you for.”

  ***

  We couldn’t spend the night on the island, although that was what other people did. No tent, no other supplies, so we asked our boat guy to pick us up later that afternoon. There were a few other groups of people there, mostly friends setting up camp, and we had to find a spot near the water where we could be as broody as we wanted. The view was spectacular—a wonderfully confused cove of pine trees, green hills, and white-gray sand. Perfect for reflecting on our sins.

  “The thing last night,” Damon said. “Let’s not do that again.”

  “Which part? King Lear?” I joked.

  “Look, I’ll go wherever you want me to go. I’ll stick my tongue in your mouth whenever you want me to. But not like that.”

  “It matters to you what Geraldine thinks?”

  “No, it’s not that. I wanted to enjoy being with you.”

  I did come to that same conclusion, while we sat there brooding. The whole “using each other” part of this only felt sleazy when we did perform as expected. Otherwise, when it was just us, it actually felt good.

  “Why is your face like that?” he went, nudging my foot. “It’s not a line.”

  “Okay then,” I said. “You didn’t enjoy it even a little bit though? You played your part really well.”

  “Of course. It just felt weird.”

  “So, we retire making out in public to make someone else jealous. It’ll be one of those things we used to do. I have no problem with that. I used to eat cashews, and now I hate them. Don’t miss them.”

  “You should reapply sunblock,” Damon said. He’d put his shirt back on when we decided to sit on the shore, but I was still in my bikini.

  “Want to help me out?”

  “That was my next line.” The sunblock was his and within seconds I felt his hands, cooled by the lotion, on my upper back. “I used to hate putting this on.”

  “Sunblock?”

  “Yeah.”

  “On yourself or other people?”

  He laughed softly. “On myself. Didn’t think it was worth the hassle. Then I went on a long walk up and down Boracay one time and burned myself badly.”

  “I used to go to Boracay all the time.”

  “There’s more people now.”

  “I know. It got to a point when I’d see someone I know every visit. What’s the point of taking off and escaping, right? If you run into your aunt or your ex-boyfriend’s sister or something.”

  His hands moved down, his fingers going in slow circles. I pulled up my knees and put my arms around them, giving him more access to my back.

  “So now you escape to islands like this?” Damon asked.

  “We’re not exactly alone here. I think I’ll have to find a new place again.”

  “I used to hate traveling.”

  “But you do it so well. You’re a packing genius. I mean, you have sunblock and everything.”

  “Hated packing. Hated unpacking. Hated airports. When my mom and dad were together, they took me to all these places, but I just wanted to stay home. Living with my grandma was so relaxing...she never left for too long because people came over to visit her all the time. I actually liked it.”

  “You don’t hate it now though?” I felt a hand on either side of my waist and gasped, expecting it to tickle. Instead it was just slightly cool comfort, and I settled into it. Damon was really talented with those hands, seriously. From triggers to sexy massages.

  “There was a work conference in Bohol one time that happened on my birthday. Had to go. It was better than staying home.”

  “When’s your birthday?”

  “October 5.”

  “Got it.” I turned my head and winked. He took that moment to slide his hand underneath the knot that held my top up. It was quick, light, and his hand was out of there quickly. Yet it made a knot of anticipation form in my belly. “I used to wonder what it would be like to travel like this with a boyfriend.”

  “Probably a lot like this.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You don’t travel with guys?”

  “I don’t travel with people, period. They can’t handle how sudden things can get. I was wondering if having a boyfriend meant I’d found someone who could do this with me. Or if I’d stop all together.”

  I felt him sit on the sand beside me again; apparently my lotion break was over. “You traveled once with a guy,” he said.

  As if I’d forget. “I know.”

  I glanced pointedly at him, and he was already looking at me, watching my face for any signs of...panic? Was that what he was expecting?

  Because now that he mentioned it, there was a lot about this trip to flash back on. The spontaneity of it. The sea and the sand, the memory of looking at my legs side by side with a guy’s. I had been so happy then, happier than I’d ever been, and it was a mere twenty-four hours before my heart was crushed.

  Damon could crush my heart tomorrow. He could have done it last night, the day before that, the morning after we met. The fact that he hadn’t yet seemed to be equal parts him being surprisingly into me, and me being very aware that he still could.

  Prevention was better than cure.

  “You’re different, I guess,” I told him. “It matters that I can talk to you.”

  That was wrong, wasn’t it? Super oversimplification. Thad was a friend, and I also could talk to him about everything. It wasn’t being able to talk to Damon that made things better.

  There
was a smear of sand on my thigh and he was absently brushing it away with a knuckle. “Can you put Thad in your ‘used to’ pile then?”

  I shrugged. “Can you do the same for Geraldine?”

  “Of course.”

  “Don’t even. I don’t expect you to get over her this quickly.”

  “Fine,” Damon said. Then he stretched out, his back on the sand. “After everything, you can’t say you’re done with him?”

  “Not as easily as you can say you’re done with her,” I replied.

  “I can say that and mean it,” Damon said. “I’m not sleeping with her. I don’t intend to sleep with her.”

  “While we’re together, you mean.”

  “We’re together a lot anyway.”

  “Wait.” This conversation started out familiar, then ventured into something new. “You’re saying we’re exclusive?”

  “I told you, I’m not planning to have sex with her.”

  “Well you shouldn’t, because she’s such a fake. But you’re saying you’re not planning to have sex with anyone else but me? That’s different, sir.”

  Because so far he’d been nothing but decent to me, it was easy to forget that some people considered Damon the wicked kind. Then we’d talk like this, and I could because I knew he could handle it, and he’d crack that dangerous smile of his and I’d know the monster still lurked in there. Except it was happy, and found me funny.

  Or maybe among the truly wicked, one could finally be normal.

  “Maybe I’m getting older,” he said, wicked but deadpan. “Maybe I only have energy for dinner, drinks, and sex with the same person, per night.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Please. But I guess that explains why you can’t hold me up in the shower for more than a few minutes.”

  “Fuck, are you daring me? I just don’t want you to slip and hit your head.”

  “Prove it, hotshot.”

  “Where’s the damn boat?”

  “Won’t be back for two more hours.” I dropped onto the sand, onto him, into a snuggle that was sweet despite the nasty talk.

  ***

  Several hours later we stumbled out of the bathroom and onto the resort room’s queen-size bed, naked, wet, laughing.