Spring Into Love

by Chantel Rhondeau

  She peers at a clipboard. “Oh, I’m sorry. They didn’t brief me. You know. Last minute. I’m Carlos’ friend. Let’s see, Mr. and Mrs. Sánchez, you two are in the bangus room, and Mrs. García and Miss Sánchez, you’re in the kare-kare room in front of the stage.”

  “We’ll find our own place setting,” my father says, his arm around my mother.

  “Okay, great,” Carlos’ friend says. “You two follow me. I think the rest of the table is seated already.”

  “I’m surprised Romeo didn’t wait out here for us,” Tita Elena says as we walk through the patio. “So, what’s going on between you two? He’s very evasive and that’s not like him.”

  “He’s probably shy.” I try to hide a smile because I’m sure Romeo wants to surprise his mother. Maybe after I give him the ring, he’ll let her in on our commitment.

  “Shy? Tell me, how do you feel about him?”

  “Put it this way, I hope you can get me the transfer. He’s very special to me.” It’s easier to admit my feelings to Tita Elena without the scrutiny of my parents.

  She squeezes my arm. “I’m very happy. You’ll be good for him.”

  “Thank you, Tita.” I bask in the warmth of her approval.

  A waiter holds the door of the kare-kare room open. Romeo is pacing on the stage arguing with a gray-haired man.

  I wave at him, but my smile freezes on my face. He turns away from me and furiously flips through the sheets of paper in his hand, pointing things to the man he’s talking to.

  Did he not see me, or is he so stressed he couldn’t even smile at his mother? A douse of cold water pours over my shoulders. What if he’s upset that I’m talking to his mother, worried I might have told her about his declaration of love?

  “Right this way, Mrs. García,” the blonde says. “You’re at table two, next to Mr. García.”

  A waiter pulls a chair for Tita Elena. I glance at the place cards for my name, but the hostess says, “You’re at table one. Come this way.”

  We take two steps and I spot him. Eric.

  “No, no, can’t be.”

  The blonde wrinkles her brow. “That’s the head table where the sponsors are. Those are five thousand dollar seats.”

  Eric stands and makes his way over. A roaring noise rushes through my head, and the blonde’s chatter grows distant. I stagger back, but someone catches me.

  “I’m not feeling well. I think I’m going to be sick.” Black dots swirl around me like pesky flies. I press a finger to my pulse point and gasp for breath. Everything spins and a whirlwind of stereophonic sound crashes like cymbals in my brain.

  A set of arms wraps around me, and I’m placed in a chair. Someone fans the air and slips a glass of ice water to my lips. Voices murmur around me, and eyes slanted with concern peer at me. Dark eyes, the color of the night sky under stormy eyebrows.

  “Lina, I should have called, but I was afraid you wouldn’t see me.” Eric is on his knees in front of me. “Forgive me?”

  “No, no. You can’t be here. Can’t. I don’t believe it.” Nausea gushes from my belly. I glance wildly for Romeo, but his back is turned and he’s talking to his mother, who’s fanning herself and shaking her head.

  Never in my worst nightmare have I imagined this calamity. Not only is Eric here, but his parents and sister are also sitting at the table. They stare at me with worried looks on their faces, whispering to each other.

  I shut my eyes and lower my face to my hands. Eric’s parents obviously paid for my seat and they would lose face if I refused to sit with them. I need to pull myself together and get word to Romeo, explain to him that they ambushed me. He’ll understand I had nothing to do with this.

  Eric’s arm closes around me. “I’ll make it up to you if it takes the rest of my life.”

  “You hurt me. What did I do to deserve it?” I’m biting my lip really hard to keep the tears from coming.

  “It wasn’t you. I couldn’t face you.”

  Bitterness seeps into my gut and my throat tightens. “Is there someone else?”

  “No. I failed.” His voice is choked. “I didn’t match.”

  He’s talking about the internship match where hospitals select their new interns for the upcoming year.

  “You didn’t? I thought you were starting at BU for internal medicine.” Stupid me, I stalk his Facebook.

  “I was unmatched, so a hospital in Kentucky picked me up. My dad pulled strings, but I didn’t know if I could stay in Boston until this week when BU offered me a spot.”

  I snap my head up and glare at him. “That was it? You couldn’t tell me? You put me through hell because you were unmatched?”

  “Shh… lower your voice. I said I’m sorry.”

  I feel like slapping him, but one look around tells me I should behave. Romeo’s mother has her eyes fixed on me and Eric’s parents are likewise looking grim.

  Faking a smile, I stand and shake hands with Eric’s sister, Marisa, and then his mother, Dr. Charlotte Shen, and his father, Dr. Chong-Wei Shen. “It’s good seeing you. How was the trip?”

  They reply with pleasantries and introduce me to the rest of the table: the trustees of the foundation, the family of the founder, and the mayor of San Diego.

  The master of ceremonies taps the microphone and launches into the welcome on behalf of Warspring International, an umbrella organization collecting funds to aid organizations helping children displaced by war. A slide show gives the history of the organization and tells of the woman who set it up. I sort of zone out, my gaze resting on Romeo who has positioned himself next to his mother in a way that his back is turned to me.

  Stealthily, I slip my cell phone from my purse and text him: I know this looks bad, but I had no idea he would be here.

  He doesn’t move or act as if he received a text.

  I text again: I thought you invited me. Please don’t be mad. I didn’t call you because I thought it was a surprise.

  “Lina, who are you texting?” Eric cups his hand over mine. “You know that’s rude? They’re recording this.”

  I swallow hard when I notice the news crews. Of course, if the mayor’s at my table, we must be in the spotlight. I silence the phone and put it back in my purse.

  There’s no way I can pay attention to the speeches and enjoy the dinner, but when it’s time for Romeo to sing, I again wish for the hole in the ground. He launches into a medley of popular hits, walking around the room and engaging the audience while studiously ignoring my presence. When he gets to my table, he greets the mayor and the founder’s family and even asks Eric’s sister if she’s enjoying the show. But he avoids eye contact with me, and Eric compounds matters by sitting close to me with his arm over the back of my chair.

  Either Eric really doesn’t know who Romeo is, or he’s acting as if he’s won and Romeo has lost. I don’t know how much more I can take, but Romeo is working the crowd and people are singing along and dancing between the tables.

  The servers clear the table and place dessert trays on the serving stands. Maybe I can sneak to the bathroom while everyone is pigging out on the turon, halo-halo, buko pandan, flan and other goodies. Out of the side of my eye, I see Carlos and the crew wheeling out the dreaded karaoke machine.

  I tip back the champagne glass and prepare to dash for the bathroom. Eric is speaking to the master of ceremonies. Romeo is singing a song to his mother and charming the ladies at her table. The two doctors Shen are engrossed in conversation with the mayor and trustee, and Eric’s sister looks bored, her fingers tapping on the tablecloth as she mentally practices piano.

  Two quick steps and I’m up. I clutch my shawl and dash for the door. But when I reach it, my parents are coming in along with the guests from the other rooms.

  “Where are you going? The karaoke party’s starting,” my father says, grinning.

  Mama is all bubbly too, no doubt from too much champagne. “Come on, Evie. Let’s do the first song. Family style.”

  “No, really. I have to pee
.” I sidestep them, but Eric corners me.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  “Powder room. I have to freshen up.”

  “I’ll walk you there.” He offers me his arm.

  “I know the way. It’s my family’s restaurant.”

  “Great, then I’ll follow you. I have to go too.”

  I scurry to the women’s room and shut the door. After using the toilet, I extract my phone and text Romeo: Can we talk after the concert? Call me.

  Several guests stream in and out of the bathroom. I park myself in the corner and stare at my phone. One by one, I read and delete every message I sent Eric. How pathetic I was, begging him to come back. Asking for an explanation. Apologizing even when there was nothing I should apologize about.

  The bathroom door opens and Eric’s sister steps in.

  “Eric’s looking for you,” she says. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just checking messages.”

  “Have you forgiven him? He’s been so worried he got an ulcer.”

  “I, uh, I don’t have anything to say.”

  She opens her purse and takes out her lipstick. “We all really like you. Can you give him another chance? He’s had a real hard time with not matching. He felt he failed you.”

  I swallow a surge of bile and rub my queasy stomach. “Answer me, Marisa. You’ve been with Tim for a year already, right?”

  She nods as she touches up her lipstick.

  “If you failed a class or couldn’t find a job, wouldn’t you share it with him? Or would you cut him off and say you need a break from the relationship?”

  She shifts her gaze to me through the mirror. “It’s different. He’s a man. He has to be the strong one, the one you can look up to. He’s already on his hands and knees coming to you and admitting his faults. Why are you kicking him when he’s down? I thought you loved him.”

  “I do, er, I did,” I mutter, my gut clenching. If Eric had come even a week ago, I would have fallen all over myself to go back to him. “I’m sorry. I’m not kicking him. I just don’t feel the same way about him anymore.”

  My head is hot and starts to throb between the temples. I take several calming breaths while washing my hands. “Please understand. I would have been there for him to support him and help him if he’d told me, but he cut me off. I can never trust him again.”

  She frowns and heads for one of the stalls. “He loves you and wants to marry you. You can’t throw away five years for a single mistake.”

  I stomp out of the bathroom and head for the patio. The music is deafening and the air is stuffy. My head swims with a combination of dizziness and pain. Maybe Romeo is taking a break now that the karaoke is in full bloom. I fumble for my phone.

  “There you are,” Eric says. “They’re calling for you.”

  “Who?” My heart leaps. “Are my parents okay?”

  “Come on, you’ll see.” He’s grinning and plants a kiss on my cheek.

  “Uh, no. I don’t do karaoke.”

  “Don’t worry, someone else will do the singing. The mayor wants to thank your parents.”

  “Okay, sure.” I wouldn’t want to miss their moment of honor, no matter how much I wish to disappear. I follow Eric back to the kare-kare room.

  The MC introduces the mayor who says a few words about the importance of civic duty and how Barrio XO is a shining example of a business that gives to the community. My parents stand and everyone claps. I sneak a peek at Romeo. He’s standing behind the karaoke machine, his eyes fixed on my parents.

  The mayor hands the mic to the MC, who gestures at Eric. “Thank you, Mr. Mayor, and now, we have a word from one of our sponsors.”

  Eric drags me onto the stage and takes the microphone from the master of ceremonies. Wait. What’s going on? I cast around desperately for my parents or anyone to explain, but no one catches my eye.

  “Hi, everyone, I’m Eric Shen, platinum level sponsor for Warspring, International. How’s everyone doing tonight?”

  “Great!” the exuberant crowd answers.

  “We’re all here for a good cause and I’m happy that we’re having fun. But tonight is a special night for me.” Eric squeezes my hand and lifts it to his chest. “And I hope it’s a special night for my wonderful girlfriend, Evangeline Sánchez, whose parents have graciously donated their restaurant for this benefit concert.”

  The audience cheers and claps, but the smile freezes on my face and an icy mantle drops on my shoulders despite the heat of the spotlight.

  Eric drops to his knees, and there is a collective gasp. No, no, I’m shaking my head. Don’t do this. Don’t.

  A ring box opens in my field of vision and a giant solitaire diamond sparkles under the multicolored lights.

  “Evangeline María Apostol Sánchez, will you do me the great honor of marrying me?”

  Some wise guy drums the table as everyone waits for my answer.

  “No, no, I don’t believe this.” I gasp and stumble, but Eric catches me.

  Some people in the crowd groan, and someone says, “Don’t do that to him.”

  Another voice says, “Ah… she’s shocked,” when Eric cradles me in his arms, dropping the mic onto the floor.

  “Lina, don’t embarrass me in front of my parents,” he pleads. “Say you’ll marry me.”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Just nod and we’ll get off the stage, please. You’re hurting me.”

  “You can’t do this to me,” I whisper.

  He tucks his head close to mine. “I’m so sorry, please say ‘yes.’”

  The MC picks up the mic and says, “The drama of young love. I say we give them some time. Anyone else have any questions they want to pop?”

  There’s a polite tittering of laughter at the MC’s attempt at defusing the tension.

  “Will you at least dance with me?” Eric holds me around my waist.

  “Okay, sure. Let’s get off this stage.” I nod and pull his arm.

  “Looks like it’s a yes?” The MC waves to the crowd. “Congratulations, let’s have a song for the young couple’s first dance.”

  Oh, shit. No. I cringe and try to back away, but Eric holds me steady. “Save face for me and my parents, the sponsors and trustees. Think of the publicity for the kids, the orphans. Just one dance.”

  I close my eyes and tuck my face on his shoulder, unable to look at anyone. This is horrible, but the cameras are rolling and Eric’s parents don’t deserve to be humiliated.

  “I’m not accepting the ring,” I whisper.

  He turns me so his body is between me and the audience and sticks it in his pocket. “I’ll grovel a hundred years. I won’t give up.”

  Romeo taps the mic and announces the song “Ikaw Ang Lahat Sa Akin” or “You Mean Everything To Me.”

  The Filipino members of the audience immediately recognize it with clapping, ah’s and oh’s. It’s a song of unrequited love, loving forever, waiting without end.

  The accompanying keyboard starts the melody and Romeo’s baritone voice picks up the lyrics. Eric leads me in a sad dance. My body glides against his, but I don’t belong to him. I’m only able to stand because Romeo’s voice wraps me in a blanket of emotion, taking me off the stage on a journey with him. We’re on Juliet, his motorcycle, me holding onto him. Tears stream freely, my body is light, and I float toward him, singing along, my voice rising in tandem with his, unable to suppress my emotion.

  Romeo, my true love. I’m screaming out my love for you, and if not this moment, then I’ll wait and wait, past the end of time because Romeo, you mean everything to me.

  Chapter 29

  The summer sunlight warms my room even though it’s still early. The absence of the morning mist means it’s going to be a scorcher. I groan and rub my aching eyes.

  There’s a light tapping at my door.

  “Evie,” Mama says. “How are you feeling?”

  Her concern sends a fresh volley of tears hurtling to my eyes. “Not goo
d, I don’t know what to do.”

  She steps in and places my purse on my bed. “You left this at the restaurant last night.”

  “Oh, good.” I spill it upside down and grab my cell phone. There’s no message from Romeo.

  I call him. It goes straight to voicemail without ringing. I throw the phone across the room. “He’s turned off his phone. He hates me.”

  “Oh, darling, he doesn’t.” Mama floods me into her arms. “He needs time after what happened last night.”

  “Why isn’t he returning my calls. What if he’s cut me off and I’ll never see or hear from him again?”

  Mama shushes me and dabs my tears with her fingers. “He isn’t returning anyone’s calls. Elena says he’s gone to Mexico.”

  “Mexico. Is he not coming back?”

  “Shh… Anak, tell me what’s going on with you. What is this?” She sweeps her hand across the contents of my purse, the cigarettes, lighter, and picks up the package insert for the emergency contraceptive pill. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  “No, I don’t know. I didn’t take the pill. I’m not overdue or anything. I’ve been irregular because of the stress.”

  “But I heard you throwing up. When could this have happened? It’s too soon to be Romeo’s.” She shakes the insert. “Do you even remember when you had your last period? We have to get a pregnancy test.”

  “What does it matter? I’ll never see him again. Maybe if I have his baby, he might at least want to see it.”

  “You’re telling me you haven’t been careful? Evie, are you going to throw everything away? Your career? Your future?”

  “Yes, yes. I’ll give up everything for him, and if he doesn’t want me, I’ll wait forever.”

  “Didn’t you feel this way about Eric? Evie, you have to get ahold of yourself.” She drags me into her arms. “I know you’re hurting, confused, but you need to take time for yourself. No Eric. No Romeo. Just you. What do you want?”

  I cry on her shoulders. It feels good to be cuddled and held by my mother and remember the way she used to comfort me when I skinned a knee or had a fight with Papa.