I could think about the two of them together all I wanted, but hearing myself say it aloud twisted my gut. I wished he understood why this meant something to me. Avoiding Geraldine forever wasn’t going to make his lust for her go away. It would resurface, if left unresolved. Those things happened.
But I also missed his face.
“We can have dinner tonight,” I relented. “Don't be so dramatic. I really am just busy.”
“Do I have to book time with your assistant or something?”
“Shut up. I’m writing this client brief and I have to send it out tonight. We’ll have dinner when I’m done, okay?”
“Do better. Give me a time.”
“Seven-thirty.”
“Light dinner then. I have needs.”
I had to laugh.
***
Dinner with Damon was pushed back to eight, then eight-thirty, then nine, because as these things often went in my line of work, last-minute things came up at the last minute. He didn't like the delays at all and was sending cute pestering text messages every ten minutes. When I was done, the phone rang, and I picked it up in a rush.
“Coming down, damn it, you can't wait a few more minutes?”
“Andrea?”
It wasn't Damon. I checked my phone; it was Thad. “Sorry. What's up?”
The line wasn't that clear—like he had put me on speaker. “Are you still at work? Can I come over and pick you up? It's Kris.”
It's Kris was when we needed to drive her home because she was drunk. “What are you talking about? It's not even nine.”
“She had happy hour with some friends early and said she had a ride home.”
“She's wasted right now? That's a record.”
“I'm swinging by some place in Taguig to get her. I can pass by your office first.”
“I can't...I mean, no, I can't save Kris with you this time, Thad. I have dinner plans. Already running late as it is.”
“I wouldn't have called you if I didn't need help. Yel is busy, Shayla isn't picking up.”
“You should ask your wife to help you.”
“Do you want to help or not? I'm turning the corner into your street.”
Shit. Kris wasn’t a big drinker, but when she tried it, she was horrible at setting her limits. Thank goodness she didn't know how to drive, and Thad had at some point designated himself as her sober driver, and she called him whenever she needed to. I was usually part of the pickup crew because Thad couldn't both drive and make sure Kris wasn't making a mess in the backseat of his car. It had always been him and me, when this happened.
“Fine,” I said. “I'll be right down.”
When I called Damon with the unfortunate news that our dinner was off, I was already in Thad's car.
“It's an emergency,” I was saying. “Kris is drunk and we need to drive her home.”
“Call her a car. Don't we have those now?”
“You don't understand...someone needs to be with her even when someone else is driving. Just to make sure she's okay.”
There was a long pause and I could imagine Damon taking his frustration out on some poor thing on his desk, like a pencil. Or a stapler. “Are you with him right now?”
God, phones these days. They were loud even when not on speaker, and the way Thad's eyes flickered over to me I knew that he had heard it. “I'm sorry. I'll call you tonight, when this is over.”
“You're with him, aren't you? Is this one of those tricks? You make me the guy who has to beg to see you?”
“Damon, we're not going to talk about this now. I'll call you later.”
The last thing I wanted was Thad getting more information about me and Damon, so I ended the call abruptly.
***
Kris seemed surprised, when she saw us pick her up. I could see it in her fogged eyes. “Hey, it's Mommy and Daddy version 1!” she cooed.
I stayed with her in the back seat and tried my best to remember how this worked, how best to align her head and keep her from throwing up. There was a time when being a team like this with Thad felt like a sign to me. Tonight it was...well, I barely knew what my future was going to be like, and knowing that it was more of this wasn't as comforting.
When we had safely delivered Kris back to her parents' house, it was him and me again.
“I'm not sorry,” Thad said.
I was in the middle of fastening my seat belt, and boy did I need to buckle up. “About what?”
“If he's mad at you now because you chose to ditch him. I'm not sorry about it.”
“I wasn't expecting you to be.”
“So do I drive you home or to his place?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just drive me home. I'm tired and I haven't had dinner.”
“We can stop to eat.”
“Why aren't you going home to your wife?” I was frustrated but couldn't muster more force to put behind what I said. “I'm not going to be the reason you use.”
“She's not at home.”
I sighed again.
Thad nodded. “She's been staying at her parents.”
“Thad.”
He was nodding, then shaking his head, having this internal argument as he was talking to me. “The fighting was getting to her. I didn't want to be the one who gave up first.”
“Don't talk about giving up.”
“Why shouldn't I?”
“Are you hoping she would so you and I can happen again?”
The question stung both of us. We were the kind of friends who were direct with each other, but never about each other, really. This was different. The stakes were different.
“I still want you,” Thad said, his voice sober and firm. He'd given this thought. He knew he was going to tell me this, at some point. “I keep thinking about you. I tried to stop thinking about you but now that I know you might be free...I thought I'd tell you. If you still want me, we can...we can try it again.”
Well that sounded innocent enough. Try it again.
There were worse ways to say it.
“We loved each other first,” he continued. “And for longer. No one can blame us for doing this. It would be...correcting a mistake.”
We could call it that.
Over time, it wouldn't matter how a couple got together. For example, I barely knew the circumstances of my parents meeting, how they fell in love, how they chose each other. What mattered to me and everyone else was that they continued to be happy together. Who knew if they hurt someone in the past, or if some other person continued to live in regret over their relationship? That was no reason to plunge everyone else in misery. No reason to stay apart. No reason to keep themselves from starting the family that eventually allowed me to exist.
Thad drove me back home in silence. We didn't mind silence; we did know each other that well and for that long to be comfortable with silence. I didn't even say goodbye when I got out of his car.
I found a text message from Damon on my phone, while I was putting together something to eat. It had been sent twenty minutes earlier.
You win, it said. Go back to your bad habit and I'll go back to mine.
Way to go, Geraldine, I thought bitterly. I didn't feel like a winner.
Chapter 19
By Saturday morning, I was a mess. No word from Damon on Friday, not a message when I woke up that weekend.
Maybe he was waking up in Geraldine’s bed right now. Or she was waking up in his. It was odd that I didn’t have to wonder what Geraldine might look like the morning after—she liked posting photos of herself baring an arm, a shoulder, letting her hair fall right over her smooth skin. Doing this did not betray the actual details of her sex life, and even Damon who was a friend had no idea who she was doing, if she was doing anyone at all. I thought that was brilliant, such a masterful hold over her own image.
I’d buy her drinks and talk to her about it, if I had the chance to.
If the very idea didn’t make me want to shrink in envy.
On Saturday morning, I was in the guest bedroo
m of Anton and Julie’s apartment. When I decided to work late on Friday, I managed to retain some good sense and tell Julie beforehand that I wanted to stay over.
I couldn’t go back to sleep. Thought I needed to eat and went to the kitchen, but right when I was figuring out the coffee maker decided that I didn’t feel like it. I instead curled up on the couch, with Julie’s laptop, and started an Apollo Ortiz movie marathon.
Apollo Ortiz, in case you weren’t aware, is the best Filipino romantic comedy actor ever. Ever. His face was on billboards all over, and every now and then he’d star in some action-oriented TV soap, but his best work was always in his movies. Romantic comedies where he played the sort-of serious, sort-of boring, intensely handsome guy whose life gets shaken up by the kooky, flighty, unpredictable girl of his dreams.
How many ways could this story be told? I didn’t care. Every time I saw his face scrunch up into that mask of determination, usually in the movie’s last act, my heart fluttered. Go get her! Tell her she’s worth it! Tell her someone will love her for who she is!
Sigh.
“Are you watching Charlie’s movies again?” Anton said, as he passed me, walking from their bedroom and toward the kitchen. Julie was right behind him. They didn’t have to see what I was watching; they would have heard the classic dialogue because I linked the laptop to the entertainment system’s speakers.
The only thing that made my fangirl feelings for this guy diminish somewhat was finding out a few years ago that his real name was Charlie Finnegan, he was good friends with Anton, and he was already married to his college sweetheart. Something like that.
In his movies, though, he always was the one who would be patient with me.
“Which one is that?” Julie asked.
“The one with the circus performer.”
“I thought I heard a different one.”
“No, I watched that one first. This is the second movie.”
They were both in the kitchen but their apartment was small and I felt their eyes on me, and then on each other.
Julie cleared her throat. “You’ve been watching for how long?”
“Since I got up.”
“What time did you get up? Before six?”
I shrugged, burrowing a shoulder deeper into the couch. Man, this was comfy. “Maybe. I didn’t check.”
“Do you want anything to eat?”
“Whatever you’re having. I don’t care.”
I tried to ignore how they were walking around, doing stuff, in their own home, as I settled in and distracted myself. I barely noticed it when, some time later, Julie left the apartment. She said “See you later,” and I said it back to her, not really thinking about it.
Anton was still in there with me, but he was washing dishes. Something about Julie’s exit reminded me of why I was moping on their couch.
“How is he?” I asked, out loud, as if to no one in general.
The sound of running faucet water stopped.
“He’s Damon,” Anton said.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“He seems like he’s been having several bad days. But he’s Damon, and I see him get angry sometimes.”
I sighed. “I guess it’s all the same to him then.”
Obviously, Damon didn’t try to send a message through his friend my brother-in-law either. Even if I had made myself unreachable, there would always be Anton, and Damon knew that.
Was that why I was here? Just in case?
Well, boo.
At some point even Anton had retreated back into the bedroom, and I was alone again in the common room. The second movie in my Apollo marathon had ended, and I switched over to Julie’s videos folder, to look for the next one to watch.
A video file called “Bride” caught my eye, and I clicked on it without thinking about it, half certain it was an Apollo Ortiz movie called Be My Bride, and of course it wasn’t that.
It was video from Julie and Anton’s wedding.
I didn’t think the official videos and photos were back yet, or I would have seen them. This wasn’t professionally shot though. It's a bit shaky, a bit grainy, like it was taken by someone holding their phone up. Julie looked beautiful, and I regret being so moody at the time that I didn’t get to tell her enough. She was gorgeous, and glowing, and absolutely happy.
Which part was this?
“I usually hate doing this,” Julie from the video said. “I hate speeches.”
Oh. The bride’s speech. Sorry to say, but I barely remembered this. Damon and I had gotten caught up in the groom’s speech, lured into the romance of hearing someone like Anton pledge undying love for one person. Julie’s words at the time were real, but not unexpected, and they sort of flew over my head.
So I watched her again this time, and paid attention.
“But I need to say something, I know, so I’ll get over my fear of boring you all to death. I need to tell Antonio Santos, in front of all of you, that I love him. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I wish, almost, that I was an expert and had loved more people, so I could assure him that this is, yes, more than anything.”
I talked a big game about dating and love. I tried and tried, kissed and told. I thought I was the brave one about this, and my sister the coward, because she didn’t put herself out there. Didn’t risk her heart.
“We can’t take that back, because this is how I’ve chosen to live. This is the commitment I’m making, tonight, and every day. To prove to you, Anton, that in choosing you I’ve defined what ‘everything’ means to me, and that’s what you’re getting. That I’ve gotten it right the first time, and that’s all I’ll ever need.”
Well shit. How could I have thought myself braver, stronger than this?
Why did I think the change would come from him? That the message would show up on my phone, turn up at my door? This wasn’t my favorite Apollo Ortiz movie. It wasn’t even the worst Apollo Ortiz movie.
It’s my life, that’s all.
I won’t quit. I will see where this leads.
***
Preparing for this leap took a little longer than expected. The perfect outfit for it wasn’t in Julie and Anton’s apartment, of course, so I had to take the long trip back home to shower, change, iron the shift dress, do my hair.
By the time I made it out of the house, it was past six, and I was pretty sure their day at the gun range would have been over. They’d probably go out to dinner. Where would they end up though, his place or hers? I didn’t even know where Geraldine lived, really.
But it didn’t matter. I had decided to do this, to tell him point-blank that I loved him, and I didn’t care if he had this in his past. If he was willing to work it out with me, I’d do it. I’d risk the second trip into hell.
I chose the red shift dress because it was comfortable, and I always felt powerful in it. It unzipped in the back and he would love that, if things worked out as I’d hoped. And despite the silk blend it was actually kind of sturdy, which would be necessary in case I had to sit on the curb waiting for him.
I was willing to wait. I was willing to sit on the curb.
When I got to NV Park after seven p.m., and registered as a guest at the lobby, I was ready to be told that I’d have to wait. They didn’t let anyone up without buzzing the resident first. They recognized me by now though, and weren’t as strict.
“You can go up,” the guard on duty said.
“He’s home?”
“I just started my shift, but according to the log Mr. Esquibel already came in.”
“Oh.”
Back from the gun range so soon? Was that a good sign?
I tugged at the hem of my dress what seemed like a dozen times during the longest elevator ride of my life. That walk from the elevator to his door too—was the hallway always that long? Or that loud? Were my shoes different this time? God each step was echoing like a bullet fired.
I had never gone up to his apartment before without him, so I wasn’t even sure
what to do. Was there a doorbell? Did I have to knock? I put my hand against the cold metal lever at his door, my weight bearing on it as I decided what to do.
I didn’t expect it to give, but it did. It wasn’t locked.
Did Damon do that often…?
I let myself into an apartment that was brightly lit. More signs of life—rustling inside his bedroom, faint music and dialogue from a sitcom. Something felt wrong, but I thought that was me, because my heart was in my throat.
“Damon,” I began to say, calling out as I went toward the bedroom.
From the bathroom emerged Geraldine, hair wet, and it was a good bet that she was completely naked, but for the towel wrapped around her.
Chapter 20
I didn’t need an actual visual. I didn’t need to know that without makeup her skin was perfect. Or that her legs were flawless, the kind of legs you’d see on someone who grew up indoors, not chasing fellow kids on asphalt streets.
She wasn’t expecting me, of course, but she quickly erased the reaction that came naturally.
But I saw something, in her eyes.
It couldn’t be...
“Well, this is awkward,” she said.
I nodded. “Very.”
“Damon...stepped out. I suggest you come back another time. As you can see, we have plans tonight. We’ve been busy the whole day, really. But I guess you already know how exhausting being with him can be.”
So this was how it was going to be. Geraldine finally marking her territory, in a way she hadn’t even when he was chasing her. This was what I wanted to happen, right? This was the closest I’d come to confirming that I was right, he was wrong, and the universe’s rules remained firm and unchanged.
Andrea was, yet again, someone’s last hurrah, before settling down with the real deal. This was normal. It didn’t have to hurt.
It didn’t hurt right now, and that was the odd thing. There was a strange and strong beat drumming through my body and that was just my pulse. I wasn’t feeling the kick of rejection. It was something else.
Adrenaline?
“Can I ask why?” I blurted out, my mouth moving way faster than my common sense.
What You Wanted Page 11
