If the Dress Fits

by Carla de Guzman

  “That’s a lie, and you know it!” Regina yelled back. The accusation cut through me, especially because I knew she was right. I wanted to keep my feelings to myself. I wanted Enzo’s attention, I wanted our friendship to become this thorn on the side of her relationship, because I thought I wanted Enzo for myself.

  I have never been so wrong in my entire life.

  “Ladies, what’s going on here?” Tita Fauna asked, emerging from the other room. She was still in her house dress and slippers, and I knew she had heard every word we’d said.

  “For once in your life, stay out of this, Tita.” Regina snapped. She’d always had this mean streak to her when she was a kid. She used to be an expert at making me cry, scratching me, calling me names when I had done nothing to deserve it.

  But now for the first time, I knew she had every right to say horrible things to me.

  “So if you were so in love with Enzo, what was Max, then?” she asked, hitting me right where she knew I would be vulnerable. Her words pierced me like knives, leaving me bleeding.

  “What?”

  “Oh come on! It’s too late to be the innocent, insecure one here!” Regina continued. “What was Max? Did you use him to get the money, because God knows you’re going to need it when Tito Philip retires next year!”

  What? When had Dad’s retirement ever been on the table?

  “Max had nothing to do with this—“

  “Just answer the question, Martha!” she said, picking up a small figurine from the nearby console and throwing it at my feet where it shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.

  Tita Fauna shrieked, and sent the rest of the house running, including Tita Merry, Tita Flora, and most inexplicably, Max himself.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  He was wearing a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt that said ‘Yoga Manila’. Oh my god. He was the yoga teacher. No wonder Regina was so concerned about my boob exposure.

  My heart stopped and started to wrench until there was nothing of it left. I felt so exhausted suddenly, and I just wanted this horrible thing to be over. I was crushed into a corner between Regina’s angry face and Max’s confusion. Tears streamed down my face, and I knew that I deserved this. But he didn’t. Max had done nothing, and now I had to…

  “We’re just friends,” I said, dropping my face into my hands. “Max and I aren’t together.” I couldn’t bear to see that look on his face, and I was too much of a coward to look.

  “Coming back here was a mistake,” Regina said, and I heard her scoff. “Just get out of here, Martha. I don’t want you here.”

  That was it. It was one thing for her to fight me when I was coming to her, but it was another to kick me while I was down. I raised my head defiantly at Regina and pulled my hands away from hers, rising to my full height when I faced her.

  Regina look gutted, her face slightly pale as she looked at me. I made sure to look like I wasn’t breaking inside too. Then I said the one thing that would officially turn this fight into the shit storm of the year.

  “Just…count me out of your engagement party. I don’t want any part of it. I quit.”

  "Because you're in love with the groom?"

  "No," I said, glaring at Regina. "Because I can't stand one more minute of you."

  Then I walked out of the house with my hands shaking and my stomach cramping. I needed to get away from here. I managed to make it to the car when I heard footsteps running towards me. I knew who it was before I heard him call my name. My fingers gripped the car door handle, and I took a deep breath, willing myself to keep upright.

  I was out of tears, out of words and I wanted to collapse to the ground. I barely had anything left in me to fight, I couldn’t handle this right now. I covered my mouth with my free hand, willing myself to turn around, breathe and face him. Could I do that?

  I stood still when his footsteps stopped. I was tempted to laugh and tease him about being a yoga teacher, but we were so far past that.

  “Max, please,” I whispered. Maybe I was praying. “Don’t…I can’t—“

  “You can and you will,” he said sharply, forcing me to turn and face him when he grabbed my shoulders. I wanted to leave, but he kept his hands squeezed on my arms until I looked him right in the eye. I couldn’t breathe as the guilt and pain weighed down on me. I was gasping for breath in between my tears.

  “You lied to me.”

  “No! I didn’t!” I cried out, immediately wanting to crumble and fall, but Max wasn’t letting me. He wanted me to face this now, in my cousins’ garage after I barely got out of there alive. Couldn’t he see I how hurt I was? Did he have to gut out my heart too?

  “Max, I never meant to hurt you—“

  “What the hell was that, then!” he exclaimed, and I had never, ever heard him so angry. “We could hear you from the living room! You know how I felt about you, and you said, you said…”

  His voice trailed off as his face grew pale. For a chilling minute, Max stood still, and my heart stopped. When did he ever stand still? Even when we watched movies his leg keeps shaking when he crossed it. To see him absolutely still was terrifying.

  “Oh my god,” he finally said. “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

  The realization seemed to hit Max like a slap in the face. I said nothing, but I could see his mind racing a mile a minute, recounting everything I said to him, every moment we had together. He’d laid his heart out to me, and I…I said nothing.

  “Shit. Shit. I am such a fucking idiot. You didn't say anything! Oh my god," he said, shaking his head. Max started pacing wildly in front of me, running his hands through his hair, rubbing over the beginnings of stubble on his chin. "For fuck's sake. You must think I'm the biggest idiot."

  My lips remained closed. I was out of words and declarations. I just wanted this to be over.

  "You should have just told me, Martha,” he said, and I realized he wasn’t doing this because he wanted me to face it. He was doing it because he wanted that pain he was feeling to stop. He was trying to ‘deal with’ me, and he was trying to get this over and done with. I couldn’t handle that. I tried to reach for him, but he pulled away. I knew I’d already hurt him too badly. “That you didn’t want…you can't lead me on like that, that's not like you at all.”

  Fresh tears sprung to my eyes at that, and I really, really just needed to hold him. I could bring him back if I could just tell him the right thing. What was I going to do if Max was gone? Who was going to make sure he went to church? Who was going to make sure he ate right, and bought groceries?

  Who was going to help me?

  “Please let me go,” I said. I needed time to regroup, I needed time to sort everything out, and for me to do that, he had to let me get into my car and drive away.

  But apparently that was the worst thing I could have possibly said. Even Max looked shocked. His hands dropped from my sides and he took a step back from me.

  Without looking at him, I turned to my car and went back in. I managed to drive as far as the village gates before I pulled over and laid my head on my hands that still gripped the steering wheel to cry my eyes out.

  My mouth was dry and my stomach was empty, but all I wanted was to go home.

  Eleven

  My father and I were silent as we cut into our slabs of Wagyu beef a week later. The fats of the meat sizzled against the hot marble plate, sending oil splattering over our hands, our clothes. Light jazz music played over the speaker as we occasionally sprinkled salt over our food. Waiters came by our table to refill our glasses with the Cabernet Sauvignon Dad chose from their cellar.

  Above our heads, an exhaust fan whirred discreetly to remove the meaty smell from the restaurant. We even had fancy bibs to keep our clothes clean.

  It had been a week since the incident at the Benitez’ home. News of my fallout with Regina reached my family before I walked through the door, with Mom and Dad trying to find out more details about what happened.

  I’d managed
to keep mum about the whole thing, throwing myself to my work. I had no idea of how my little blowup had changed anything for the happy couple—I was being conveniently kept in a news blackout. Mindy even offered to take me out to drink my problems away.

  I didn’t need a drink, I needed a good, rare Grade 9 steak. I needed something moist and juicy to chew on, because it may just help ward off this horrible guilt I felt. There wasn't anything I could do to get out of this, because it was my own fault.

  The reminder of my own helplessness made me stab my mashed potatoes.

  “Your meat is going to get well done,” Dad pointed out, reaching over to move my steak around the stone to stop it from cooking too quickly. “And we both know that you might as well eat rocks if you’re eating steak well done.”

  I frowned at my food, slicing off another piece of steak. Sawing into the meat would have helped my aggression, but the steak just split apart like butter.

  God, this steak was good. I could eat this steak forever. I would enjoy that more than having to endure another day feeling like crap.

  “Martha,” my father said, squeezing my hand. "Are you okay?"

  "Me? " I asked, my voice rising to a weird pitch like it did when I tried to lie. "Of course, I'm totally....not.”

  I finally sighed, resting my elbow on the table to give my double chin a spot to lean on. "I'm sad. The steak isn't working."

  "A good steak can't fix anything but a craving," Dad pointed out, as he took a sip of his wine. "And a craving is only a symptom for something else. You're not happy, Martha."

  I put down my fork and fixed my father with a glare. He's been thinking this for some time, I know. If he's bringing it up again, it means he doesn't think it's been fixed.

  "Dad," I sighed. "I don't want to talk about —“

  "I'm not talking about Regina or Enzo, sweetheart," he said. "You haven't been happy for some time now. Is it...a weight thing? I know your mom and I tease you quite a bit about it..."

  I made a dismissive noise.

  "No, it's not that," I said, picking up my fork again to cut up some more steak before I put it in my mouth. I could see Dad giving me an incredulous look as I chewed, and it took all of the soft juiciness of the steak away.

  "It's not a weight thing!" I exclaimed in exasperation after I swallowed. "I'm actually happy with my weight, even though it's hard to believe. I like that I can work it, because it's mine. Everyone makes me feel so guilty for it, like there's something wrong with me. But come on. I look amazing. And honestly? I don't say it enough. I LOOK AMAZING."

  There was a quick moment of silence as the restaurant heard my little declaration, but it was the truth. For all my whining and complaining about my body, it was mine. I owned it, and I owned it proudly. Dad nodded solemnly at me, and I knew he believed me.

  So why was he still trying to Six Sigma me?

  "It's not a weight thing," My father conceded. "But it's something. The last time I saw you smiling was—“

  "I know, I know, my college musical," I sighed, taking my knife and fork to cut into my food. I looked over the table to find my father chuckling at his steak. "Believe me Dad, if I knew I could be the next Idina Menzel, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

  "Nope," he said like he was the smartest guy in the world. "I was going to say the last time I saw you this happy was that day in Tagaytay."

  "Well, I learned I could potentially inherit four million pesos, so…"

  "No, before that,” he sighed. “When Max and Ate Flora walked into the room. You looked so happy to have him there."

  I knew I must have looked ridiculous, staring at my Dad with wide eyes, not even realizing that I’d dropped my fork on the marble slab.

  It's weird, the moment you realize you're in love. You see it when you've lost it, and at the most random, inappropriate of times. Because the moment I cut into that steak that afternoon, I realized that I was in love with Max. I didn't recognize it at first, because I'd known love to be this slow, agonizing thing that was never returned.

  But this? This kind of love filled my heart with so much happiness that I wanted to laugh.

  I was in love with Max.

  I loved him like I loved waking up on Sunday mornings. I loved that I could collapse on his furniture without worrying that it would break, that I could smile and just be myself with him. I love that he never asked me why I was so dependent on food, but instead forced me to look at what was really wrong.

  I loved that he was there whenever I asked him to be, that he let me take care of him even if he felt smothered sometimes. I loved the way he smiled when he kissed me, the way he made me feel when we were together.

  And I let all of that go for what? An illusion of a guy who clearly loved someone else?

  I wanted to curl into a ball and sob out all the pain. The big girl never gets the guy in romantic comedies anyway. It would be much easier for me to give up and let him fall in love with girls like Georgina Torres, who could actually run with him and keep up with his constant motion and not have her boobs pop out of her sports bra.

  It was easier, but it wasn't what I wanted.

  I looked over at my father, who had already finished his food. He was studying me again. I hated it when he tried to fix me, but I knew he did it because he only wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to find what I wanted.

  "Are you really retiring, Dad?" I finally asked him.

  "Yes," he said. "Before I retire, I want to try and find a place where you belong. Although I think we both know where to find that."

  I put down my knife and fork and smiled at my Dad before I kissed his cheek. My heart may be breaking, but I knew it would work out in the end. He squeezed my shoulder. Somehow I'd lost my appetite for steak, even the Wagyu beef kind.

  Who was I kidding, that steak was too good not to finish.

  It was strange. I thought that when I told Enzo how I felt I would want to see him fight for me. I thought I would look for him or cry his name into my pillow every night or think of him whenever I heard a corny hugot line. I don't know why I thought love would be so painful. It only hurt because it was wrong. Enzo might have been mine for some time, but that was over now.

  Truth was, I didn't even think about him until I walked into the conference room for a meeting and saw him there. It was a regular Tuesday, and on a regular Tuesday, I was late to work and too worried about my lipstick to notice it was him until I closed the door behind me.

  “Hi Frank, I—" I said, blinking as my brain processed his presence.

  “I know you’d usually bolt from this kind of thing,” he said. “But please don’t.”

  I said nothing, but stayed. His face was dark and serious, and I had never seen him like this before. One of his old critiques in college was that he lacked range—you could tell when he was mechanically putting on his 'mad' face, his 'sad' face or his 'glad' face. I had no idea what this was. "What are you doing here?"

  "I came to see you," he said without a hint of kindness or warmth in his voice. "We need to talk."

  "I think we've talked enough," I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest.

  "I meant talk about what happened between you and Regina," he said, still and unmoving in front of me. I shot him a look of annoyance, stopping just short of rolling my eyes. "I know you told her," he continued. "And she was angry at me for some time because I didn't say anything. But she needs you, Martha. She can't handle this event on her own, it's too much for her."

  "Oh but it wasn't too much to ask me despite the fact that I work full time here?" I asked, waving my arms around. "I find it hard to believe that poor little Regina could possibly need me to handle her own damn event."

  Enzo's face was inscrutable. God, his range had really improved in drama school. Then when I still said nothing, it slowly gave way to confusion, then realization.

  "She didn't tell you," he said bluntly. "Oh."

  I blinked back at him. I couldn't help the rush of concern I felt for Regin
a, no matter how hurt I was or how angry I was at her.

  "She needs you because she's dealing with something too," he said. “Tita Flora.”

  I blinked at Enzo, like the words just flew right past me. He had a little smile on his face, the kind of genuine smile that used to make my heart twist inside my chest. Now I was just confused.

  “Tita Flora? She said she was doing well so far, considering,” I pointed out to him.

  “Regina spent some time taking care of cancer patients," Enzo said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “That was how we met. We were performing for them, she was volunteering. She isn’t dealing with your Aunt’s illness very well. She knows what will happen, and she’s not sure she can stand seeing it happen to Tita Flora.”

  I bit my bottom lip but let Enzo continue.

  “I know this sounds like crap, but that’s why I’ve picked a fight with her over this money thing,” he said. “It hasn't been the easiest for us, me struggling to do well while she needed me less and less," he shook his head.

  "But anyway. You’re going to have to support each other more and more, and better now than never.”

  I lowered my arms.

  "So this is me, begging you to patch things up with her. You calm her down, and she needs calm right now."

  I blinked up at him. Enzo gave me a tiny smile, like he understood my little non-gesture completely. I had to admit, I was impressed by him. He came here despite knowing what happened, just to beg me to help Regina. He knew that we were going to have to see each other eventually, and just sloughed on. It helped a lot, because my plan had been to avoid family events totally. With this, I knew where we both stood on the matter.

  "I know you'll think about it," he said earnestly. "Now I'm going to leave,” he said. "You can act like we never talked."

  He saw me nod. Then he crossed the room and left. This is what we were going to be from now on. It wasn't the happy ending I wanted, but it was one we could accept.