She makes a pointy motion with her hand up.
“We’re friends.” I pull my covers back. “Is she okay?”
“Yes, thank God Romeo got there when he did. She’d been calling him all night Monday and he wasn’t answering his phone. She wasn’t feeling well. Thought she had indigestion, so she went to bed, but she couldn’t sleep because Romeo hadn’t called her back. She even asked us to call you, and you weren’t answering. She was really upset, but we reassured her that maybe his battery was dead or he was out of range.”
A chilly fog rolls over my shoulders and the dull ache in my head expands. Now it’s my fault she had the heart attack. If I hadn’t been with Romeo, he would have gotten to her earlier.
“Anyway, she called him in the morning and he answered. He thought she should go to the hospital because by now she was complaining of chest pains.”
“Stop. Please.” I throw myself under the bed sheets. “I know what you’re getting at.”
“He told her everything.” Mama pats my shoulder.
And she told Mama in turn. I’m doomed.
“I’m sorry, okay? Maybe everything’s telling me to go back to Boston.” Well, everything except the fact Eric ignores my texts and pretends I don’t exist.
“Maybe, but Tita wants to meet you. She has a message for you.”
“What kind of message?” Like stay away from my son or I’ll kill you?
“She didn’t say, but we’re letting you out of work tomorrow so you can visit. Romeo’s bringing her home from the hospital and you can go with him.” Mama peels the bed sheets back and beams, as if her job of ruining what little sleep I can get tonight is done.
“Is she truly okay? I don’t want to upset her further.”
“She’s fine.”
“I don’t know what she wants with me.”
“You won’t get any clue from me.” Mama points with her chin to the door. “I gotta go.”
I palm my forehead. What the heck just happened?
The door clicks and she’s gone. I wait for her to pop back in with another thing, but when five minutes pass and she hasn’t returned, I extract the pill from the hamper, remove the packaging and package insert, and tiptoe to the kitchen. I wrap the pill in a napkin, and tuck the colorful package with the prominent words ‘emergency contraceptive’ inside a used cereal box and smash it in the trash compactor.
The noise of the compactor grinds like a chainsaw on speed. I slide the tissue with the pill into my robe pocket, grab a bottle of water, and scramble back to my room before anyone comes out to complain.
Time to read the package insert.
My phone lights with a text message from Romeo: Heard your mom spoke to you.
The banana express works fast these days with instant messaging and cell phones.
I text back: Yes, she told me. What does your mom want?
Romeo: She wants to give you some advice.
Me: Do you know what it’s about?
Romeo: No.
Me: Does she blame me?
My phone rings. Romeo calling.
“She doesn’t blame you,” he says. “Nobody does. But I had to tell her everything, going back to kindergarten when I gave you that dandelion.”
“Ohh. Emm. Gee. Everything?”
“Well, abbreviated,” he says. “I didn’t tell her we were planning to elope on prom night.”
“Good. How, uhm, much did you tell her about… about Monday night?”
“That you stripped for me, almost gave me a blow job, and creamed all over me.” He chuckles in the background.
“I still owe you that blow job.” I clamp my mouth and bite my tongue. Too late.
He’s laughing so hard I bet he has tears in his eyes.
“I didn’t just say that, did I? Blah, blah, blah,” I mumble. “I’m so tired I could sleep through a Justin Bieber fan girl stampede.”
“Ha, ha, you’re still the crazy Evie I love. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter 18
“So Romeo,” I ask as casually as I can en route to picking up Tita Elena. “Does your mother go all crazy every time you have a girl over?”
He glances over from the driver’s seat of his mother’s Mercedes. I can’t believe he’s wearing driving gloves, but he told me Mama Elena doesn’t want oils ruining the wood on the steering wheel. Humpf. I better watch what I touch in this highly appointed car.
Oops, better pay attention to his reply, including body language, gestures, and voice inflection.
“Does she?” I repeat.
He cocks a one-sided smile. “I know what you’re getting at. You want to know if I have girls over and how often. In fact, you’re dying to know if someone else has been to my place before or after your visit.”
I roll my eyes and smear my fingers over the wood grain panel on the dashboard. So there.
He doesn’t answer me. Instead he gets off the freeway, hangs a u-turn and zooms the opposite direction.
“What happened? Did you forget something?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. You left your helmet at my place.”
“We don’t have to get it now.” I glance at the dashboard clock. “Isn’t your mom waiting?”
“I want you to observe where your helmet is sitting when we enter the apartment.”
“Romeo, this is ridiculous. Okay, I don’t have a right to invade your privacy, and I don’t see what all the fuss about the helmet is.”
He doesn’t answer. I can see the determined set of his jaw, his lowered eyebrows and his to-die-for profile. No more baby face. This guy is pure testosterone. It sets my heart skittering and my juices running.
He maneuvers the large Benz into a tiny parking space in the garage. Before I have a chance to step out, he hurries around to my side.
“Come on.” He tugs my arm roughly. The long floral skirt I’m wearing gets tangled with my heels as I stumble out.
“Romeo, you’re overreacting. Okay? Forget it. You have tons of girls over, night and day and I’m okay with it. Let’s go get your mother.”
He maneuvers me into the elevator and as soon as the door closes, he lowers his head and presses his lips over mine.
Oh, hot, hot. I utterly and completely surrender to his assault. Greedily, I sweep my tongue into his mouth, my hands busy loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.
We barely make it out of the elevator clothed. My legs already wobbling, I race him to his door.
He throws it open, grabs my head and points it at the helmet. It’s sitting on the low wall that separates the entry from the living room. Right next to it is a picture of us, taken at the pre-prom photo session. I was holding him, smiling in the innocence of young love. An hour later, I would stand him up by stealing the tickets and showing up with Kuya Carlos.
He closes the front door. “No one has ever taken your place.”
“I didn’t ask.” My heart’s thumping, I’m perspiring, and my hormones are confused. Are we supposed to be angry, fight or fly, or bop like bunnies?
“Yes, I’ve had many women friends. I’ve even slept with a few of them. But no one is in here,” he thumps his chest, panting, “except you.”
I almost melt on the spot. That has got to be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me, hands down.
But what comes next chills me to the bone.
“You, on the other hand, have been living with a guy for years. You ditched me for him. You met him that weekend you went to Boston to visit the campus. And you texted him right before the prom. He told you not to go through with it. Why did you lie to me and tell me it was Harvard you picked over me?”
“Oh, shit, Romeo, how did you know?”
“It doesn’t matter. Tell me, Evie. Why?”
“I don’t know.” I clutch my chest, feeling like my insides are about to spill. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Are you in love with him? Answer me.”
“Why? What does it matter?”
He smashes my face
against his and plunders me with his lips. Before I have a chance to give him a bite, he breaks the kiss.
“Because I don’t want to be doing this with someone else’s girl.”
“I’m not his. I’m yours, always have been. I swear.” My knees buckle and I collapse onto the floor, sobbing.
“Strange way of showing it.” He puts the helmet on the floor beside me. “I don’t know what my mother wants to talk about, but I want you to be honest with her. Unfortunately, I didn’t give her all the information about us, because I didn’t know this last bit until this morning.”
“Who told you?” I hug the helmet.
“Your father.”
“What? How could he know?”
Romeo goes to the kitchen and returns with a tissue. “He says Carlos told him the night of the prom, but he’s telling me this morning because our mothers are planning our wedding and he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“I told Carlos?” A sinking feeling smashes me as I recall the hurried explanation. “Why’d he tell Papa?”
“He might have had to explain why he ended up at the dance with you.” Romeo dabs my cheeks with the tissue. “Anyway, don’t be mad at Carlos.”
“I’m not.” I cover my face. I’m sure my makeup is all in pieces by now and I look like a ghoul from the Halloween store. “I’m just sad I lost you. All through the years, no matter what happened, I always had two things going for me. My family and you.”
“Hey, hey. Don’t cry.” He puts his arm around my shoulder. “I’m still here, aren’t I? Why don’t you go to the bathroom and fix your makeup? I’ll call my mom and let her know we’ll be a little late.”
# # #
For the second time this morning, we pull Tita Elena’s Benz onto the freeway and head for Mercy Hospital. I’m as calm as I can be, given the circumstances.
Romeo seems friendly on the surface, but there’s a distance that grows each mile we drive. It’s nothing overt. He doesn’t glare at me or scowl. He’s still pleasant, smiling, making little jokes. But he doesn’t reach over and touch my knee and he doesn’t wink and flirt. In fact, his eyes are hidden behind wraparound sunglasses.
He doesn’t remove his shades until we’re parked inside the hospital parking structure.
“Ready?” I touch his hand.
“Yeah, I’m not sure how we’re supposed to play this. I don’t want to give my mother any more shocks.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t have any more surprises.” I withdraw my hand since he doesn’t respond to my touch.
“Oh, yeah, one more thing.” He rubs his jaw and his Adam’s apple lurches. “Did you take the pill?”
I open my purse and pull out the wadded tissue. “Today’s the last day.”
He takes it and unfolds it. “Is this what you want?”
“It’s not a big deal, right? I might not even be pregnant.” I’m not sure if he’s going to make me take it right now in front of him. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’ll be honest. I like the idea of having a part of me inside of you. Marking you so no other guy will get any ideas. But I don’t want you tied to me because of an accident.” He hands it back to me. “What about you?”
“I want another chance. I want to know that no matter what happens, what mistakes I make, and how much I screw up, that you’ll always care about me. That you won’t turn your back on me. Even if I deserve to be sent packing.”
‘Then I have to be the only man in your heart. I can’t take being hurt again. I’ll just clam up and walk away.”
“I won’t ever hurt you again. I promise.”
He puts a finger on my lips. “Don’t make any commitments until you know what’s in your heart.”
“I do know.” A panicky flutter erupts inside my stomach.
He bites that lip ring of his and shakes his head slowly. “You’re afraid to lose me. It’s not the same.”
“What do I have to do to prove it to you?”
“Nothing. I’ll know.”
“So, what do we do now?” I roll the pill between my fingers.
“I still have a little over two weeks in town.” He quirks his eyebrow and winks. “We can go out, do things, get to know each other.”
“Sounds hopeful.” I lower the window and throw out the pill.
This time his smile includes his eyes. “Let’s get my mom out of this joint.
Chapter 19
Tita Elena is pale and stiff. She extends her hand and I ask her blessing, touching the back of her knuckles to my forehead. Her wrist is wrapped with tapes, and there’s a bandage on the back of her hand from the I.V. drip.
She winces when Romeo transfers her from the wheelchair to the passenger seat.
“You look great.” I take her bags and purse and put them on the backseat.
The nurse hands me the information packet and says goodbye.
“Nanay, you comfortable?” Romeo arranges a lap blanket and pulls the seatbelt over her.
“It’s going to take a lot more to bring me down.” She waves him off. “I’m amazed at the technology they have these days. If only your father had… Guess twenty years makes a big difference.”
“I’m glad it went well for you.” I sit in the seat behind Romeo.
“It was pretty amazing, actually.” Elena’s eyes brighten. “They threaded a tiny tube up my arm, guided by an x-ray, right into my coronary artery.”
“We were worried she had a stroke at first,” Romeo says.
“It turns out I hit my head when I fell.” Elena laughs, fluttering her hand over her chest. “I missed all the warning signs for a heart attack.”
“I’m not sure you should live alone,” Romeo says. “Maybe I should move in.”
Elena shakes her head. “We talked about this. You have your career. I’ll hire a nurse.”
“I don’t want to be halfway around the world the next time this happens.”
“You can’t drop everything. I won’t let you.”
I settle back in my seat and pull out my cell phone. Mother and son are in disagreement and I don’t want to be drawn into it.
My text message to Eric is unanswered. I don’t know why I bother updating him. If I were to be honest, the thought that someone who supposedly loves you, who lives with you, who is supposed to build a future with you can suddenly, without explanation, push you away and cut off all communication. That is scary.
But isn’t this what I did to Romeo five years ago? The poor guy was expecting to be married. Instead he got a message to leave me alone. No explanation. No communication. It sure hurts to be on the receiving side, doesn’t it?
I text Eric: I now realize what I did to Romeo was wrong. I’ve been seeing him again and I want to make it work this time.
I scroll backward through my message history. At first I couldn’t believe why he’d cut me off. He was wooden, expressionless. He didn’t yell, he didn’t do anything mean. There was no emotion. Just the admission that he couldn’t do this anymore, live with me and pretend we had a future. That he was moving in with a friend until I removed my things.
Then I was angry. I broke his things. I showed up at his friend’s place and kicked the door. I thought about slashing his tires, but I didn’t follow through. I tried everything I could to get a reaction from him, but it was like talking to a brick wall.
So I begged and I pleaded. I wrote him long emails promising to correct every criticism he ever made of me. I’d cut my hair shorter, keep my room neater, make his favorite dish more often, rub his feet, even start taking out the trash.
Tears fill my eyes as I recall the dire straits I went to get him back. I wasn’t able to concentrate on my schoolwork. My grades dropped. I limped for two months from mid-March until May before the final blow. I failed anatomy and barely passed my other basic science courses.
I suppose I’m now in the depression state. Everyone at the medical school is very supportive of me, especially my Society Master who successfully finished med school a
s a single mother. I really have no excuse for failure.
“Isn’t that right, Evie?” Tita Elena looks at me for support of whatever point she was arguing with Romeo about.
“Uhm, yes.” I falter, unsure what else to say.
“See? She agrees with me. I don’t need babysitting. By the way, Evie, have you thought of being a cardiologist or going into surgery?”
I catch Romeo’s eyes in the rear view mirror. He doesn’t look happy with the way we supposedly ganged up on him.
“Yes, Ma’am. I’m interested in interventional radiology and laser surgery. These days we can use guided probes and lasers to perform a lot of procedures that used to mean a major operation.”
“You are going back to school, aren’t you?” Tita flashes me a weak smile.
“Yes, that’s the plan.”
“How long are you staying?”
I notice Romeo staring at me through the mirror again. “Maybe a few more weeks. My Society Master says I should take the time to get over my emotional hurt before going back for remedial work. I have to do some special projects and retake the final exam.”
“What exactly happened? Your mother was vague.”
Oh, boy. If this is part of the talk, why couldn’t she do it without Romeo around?
I promised him I’d be honest, and at this point, there’s nothing to hide. They’ll get it from one or the other member of my family. Might as well be me.
“I broke up with the guy I was living with.”
“That’s too bad. Why did you break up with him?”
There’s no getting around the Filipina auntie. If you grow up calling her Tita, she’s going to get to ask you the most personal questions. Of course, now that we’re stuck in traffic, she has plenty of time to dig in.
“I didn’t break up with him. He told me the relationship was over. Just like that. One day I was picking china patterns and day dreaming over baby names. The next day, bam. Finished.”
“When did this happen?”
“About two months ago. So naturally my course work suffered and I failed anatomy.”
“Oh, my. At least you were brave enough to stay there two months. Did you ever see him again?”
Spring Into Love Page 35
