Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Untitled document
Cities
Smashwords Edition
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2014 by Carla de Guzman
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover art by Rom de Guzman and Frances de Guzman
Book design by Tania Arpa
Contact the author: [email protected]
For Ma Cel,
who lived, laughed and loved.
CHAPTER ONE
DREAMS
THE THING about dreams, there’s always something in the back of your mind that tells you that you’re dreaming. It’s like a subconscious warning signal, telling you not to get too involved, not to believe what you think you can see. In dreams, there’s a glow about the edges that you can’t place. Everything is wonderfully unreal. Dreams can end when you want them to.
I was trapped in a dream, a dream that felt like a memory.
There were no glowing edges, or subconscious warnings in my mind as I walked through it. The breeze was humid and real, my toes kicked against the warm rocks baking under the sun. It had to be a memory. I never came back to this place after graduation, no matter how much I had loved attending this school. In the harsh and scary real world, I was an adult with an adult job. Now…here I felt I was a young, naive little thing, still excited at the possibilities of life, still brave about love. That wasn’t who I was anymore, and that hadn’t been who I was in a long time.
So what was I doing here?
I stood in the hallways between the parking lot and the Communications building, one of my favorite spots in my school. The sun spent its last moments by glowing brilliant and orange, casting its golden light on everything it touched. My skin prickled in the warmth and my heart fluttered. I turned my hand over and realized that I was holding a fresh white rose.
Oh. This was a memory. A particularly bad one that I had hoped to forget.
The school bells chimed in the distance, and my heart twisted in my ribcage. I tried to wake myself up and stop myself from remembering the horror of this moment, but the light kept me rooted to the spot.
He's not coming, I told myself, like I was trying to keep my own heart from getting hurt. He didn't come, remember? He never showed up. Wake up, Celia. Wake up!
I held my breath. You may not die in dreams, but in memories I wasn’t so sure. The world was still and he wasn't coming.
As the last of the chimes faded away and the sun shed its last rays, a figure appeared at the end of the hall. The footsteps squeaked and drummed against the pavement as I gasped.
Is that...?
"Celia!" He exclaimed, catching his breath as he finally stopped in front of me, his own white rose in his hand. "Am I late?"
Wake up!!!
CHAPTER TWO
MANILA
CELIA ALIX woke up to the sounds of her neighbors singing karaoke across the street. Eight hours of classic rock (Chicago, Air Supply with Tagalog accents, classic stuff) and still the drunks were going strong. She had to admire that about them.
“I’m all out of love, I’m so loss withouchuuuuuu…”
The darkness of her room and the hum of the airconditioner lulled her back to sleep, but her phone's alarm quickly followed in its wake, demanding her attention. Rolling over to the other half of her bed, Celia glanced at her Hello Kitty clock and closed her eyes again, trying to remember why she was supposed to be up at the ungodly hour of eight on a Saturday morning.
Vivi's wedding! Her eyes flew open, she disentangled herself from her sheets and scrambled to the bathroom. Celia began her morning routine and made a mental list of everything she needed to do before she left the house. After a quick shower and a quick scrape of a razor against her legs, she pulled out the first dress she could grab from the back of her tukador, tossed her phone, perfume, jewelry and shoes into the bag she had packed with all her other essentials. It was only half past eight. The wedding was at four.
She asked for the only maid in their tiny house to fetch her dress from the laundry while she went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Her father was reading the paper in the dining room adjacent to the kitchen. Her mother was probably already preparing for the wedding.
"Pa," Celia quickly kissed her father's cheek, grabbing a pandesal from the table and giving him a knife for the butter. Then she poured him more coffee. "Please don't be late. You're the Ninong! Principal sponsors have to be there a bit early.”
"Hija," her father absentmindedly answered, placing a hand over hers. "Did you ever wonder what your life would be like if you took that scholarship in Seoul?"
In the midst of her rush to get out of the house, her father’s question made Celia pause. Her father always had a way of surprising her, and apparently today was no exception. She hadn’t even thought about that scholarship since she threw away the letter. ”It was a two-year stint in Yonsei University for electives. We all agreed that it would have been a waste of time," Celia shrugged as the yaya handed her the garment bag with her dress inside. "What's with the what ifs, Dad?"
"Oh nothing, just thinking out loud," he said with a smile, squeezing Celia's hand. “What about the storm?”
“What about the…storm?” Celia asked, stopping in her tracks as she turned back to her father.
“It’s supposed to be pretty bad,” he pointed out. “Is Vivian going to push through with the wedding?”
“Of course,” Celia said with a smile. “Not even a typhoon can stop Vivian from getting married.” As she said it, she felt something clench in her chest, pain that she had learned over the years to just bear with and move on. She shook herself mentally and left the house.
After quickly texting Vivian that she was on her way, Celia was in the driver’s seat and out of their garage at a quarter to nine. There was an inexplicable gridlock on Banawe, which she drove through by following the taxis making a fourth lane in a three-lane street. The sky was dark and gloomy, pregnant with the rainfall it was soon to unleash. Thunder clapped across the sky in gleeful anticipation of the rain. The radio reported that Manila was expected to go up to Signal No. 2, which was so unwelcome that Celia wanted to scream. She took a deep breath.
Did you ever wonder what your life would be like if you took that scholarship in Seoul?
Celia shook her head. Now was not the time to be thinking of what-ifs.
She smoothed her fingers over her steering wheel and concentrated on negotiating the choked streets near her house. The tension of getting out of the house as quickly as possible slowly melted away as she got to the main road, properly distracted from that memory. She always found Quezon Memorial shrine calming whenever she saw it. The tall monument
had a way of making her feel at home, although she had not once set foot in it. Traversing Elliptical Road and Commonwealth Avenue left no room for distractions and Celia gritted her teeth as she wove through heavier than usual traffic. Once her car made it past the entrance to UP, she made a quick phone call while getting gas.
".....'lo?" A deep sleepy voice answered. Celia groaned.
"Wake up, wake up, wake uuuuup," she practically yelled into her phone as she paid for her gas and quickly eased back into the street. "I am five minutes away from you. Please tell me you're ready."
"For what?"
“Henry Cruz!" Celia whined, making a right towards the tiny shortcut road to Henry's area. Zuzuareggui was a narrow road lined with small condo units on the right and even smaller units on the left. Bad city planning aside, it was the fastest way to get to Henry. Celia nearly knocked over a man selling ice cream in a thunderstorm and whined into her phone. "It's today!"
"What?" He asked as she made a U-turn so she could park in front of the convenience store at the ground floor of his building. She slammed her hand into the car horn as a car tried to pass before she swerved and pulled into the parking slot easily.
"Zero hour! D-day!" Nothing like screaming to get a friend out of bed and to blow off some steam. “Henry, it’s—!!”
As Celia pulled into the parking lot, she could see Henry sitting at one of the tables facing the glass door, wearing a wifebeater and skinny jeans like it wasn’t about to rain cats and dogs outside. "Oh.”
"I was just kidding, Celia, I'm here," Henry Cruz pronounced unnecessarily into the phone, grinning as he sauntered over to her car in his ripped cutoff jeans, plaid shirt tied around his waist and his hundred-peso Ray Ban knock-offs over his eyes. Celia and Henry had been friends for a long time, but sometimes, she still didn't get why he kept acting like he was constantly being stalked by invisible paparazzi. He slipped into the passenger’s seat, smiling apologetically after unceremoniously tossing his garment bag into the backseat. "Boo."
"Alright, your majesty. Took you long enough," She glanced at her friend and reminded him to buckle up before pulling out of the parking slot. She headed for Katipunan Avenue. Perfect timing, the traffic started to build up as huge eight-wheeler trucks made their daily pilgrimage to and from NLEX. With nothing else to do but sit in the car with Henry and her own thoughts, Celia's dream kept coming back to her. So obviously, this ride was going to be anything but pleasant.
Henry was quick to notice something was wrong. Driving always made Celia tense, but today she was groaning at every motorcycle that whizzed past them (“Cheaters!”), honking at anything that swerved, and kept changing the radio station despite the fact that it was playing one of her favorite songs. Henry leaned forward and plugged her phone into the FM transmitter instead, playing some Bon Iver to get her to chill.
"Aba aba, someone is extra crabby today," Henry remarked, poking Celia's bare arm with his sunglasses. How was the air so humid when the sky was so gloomy? "What's wrong? If it's about Vivi, I won't judge you."
"Yes you will."
"Okay, fine, but only a little."
"Great," she answered dryly, making Henry roll his eyes. Celia glared at her friend, her hands still on the wheel. Then she sighed. Might as well get this out of her chest while Katipunan was at a standstill.
"I had a dream last night," she began, and as if on cue, the heavens opened up and poured rain all over the city, the smog hanging low as the cars honked in irritation at a truck that was causing all the traffic. "It was about Senior's Night...and Ben."
"Oh no," Henry groaned as the traffic inched forward. They made it to the flyover and straight into Katipunan Extension, which was already slightly flooded, making the traffic even worse. Pedestrians, the few that she could see, were soaked. "Again?"
Yes, again. It was a dream that had been haunting her since Vivian asked her to be her maid-of-honor. Three years ago, they were college seniors holding white roses to give away as their "last chance" with their crushes. Celia had made the mistake of actually attempting to do it, inviting Ben to meet up with her near the Communications building just as the sun set. But he never showed up. It was the first time she had ever had her heart broken. That dream, that awful dream, was cruelly mocking her. She didn't need to see him show up, smile like he actually loved her and hold her like she meant more to him. Not anymore.
But she kept having the same dream, over and over. Celia buried her head against the steering wheel as they reached a stoplight. Only Henry could expose her like this and make her feel so vulnerable.
"I know," she said, guilt seeping in. "And I hate myself for it, but I loved him. Emphasis on the loved. Past tense. Maybe. It was...it was lovely. For a time, anyway."
"But Celia..." Henry started.
"I know, I know," Celia interrupted, waving her hand to hush him.
"Celia..."
"Yes, thank you, shut up!"
"No. You need to hear this."
"I don't want to--"
"You cannot still be in love with Ben! He's getting married!"
"Henry-- "
"To Vivian."
She punched Henry’s arm. Hard. She wasn't sure who it hurt more, because her fist tingled, and he didn't even flinch. She hated him for it. The rain beat down on her car, water pounding the metal and glass like it was trying to wear them down. It fell in torrents, the wind blowing against it. The world seemed to be in mourning of something. Celia bit her lip and swallowed the reality she was forced to face. One that no dream could ever change.
"Hen, I can't help it," she said, sighing miserably. "I feel so lost and…stuck. I’m alone. But when I think of Ben—"
"Please don't finish that sentence,” there was an edge to Henry’s voice that Celia couldn’t identify.
"When I think about him," she repeated firmly. "I think...I think I actually stand a chance to be happy. I think about him, and I know who I am, or who I can be. I think he could be the one for me, you know? How can I just stop feeling that way?"
The rains had ceased their first downpour when they reached Crowne Plaza. Pulling their garment bags from the car and sending it off to valet without another word, Henry and Celia parted. Although the rains had stopped, the sky was still overcast and gloomy.
Celia sighed and walked into the hotel suite they were using as a "staging area." After observing the darkened streets outside, the tulle and warm yellow lighting was such a harsh contrast that it overwhelmed her. The world of Vivian Wilson was laden with peach rose petals and ribbons, Taylor Swift on repeat, giggles from pre-wedding jitters, iced coffee and Danishes from Starbucks. The room smelled like peaches.
"Finally!" Vivian exclaimed upon seeing Celia enter the room. Ignoring the obvious irritation of her hairstylist, Vivi leapt up from her chair and went to give Celia a hug, the other bridesmaids greeting her vaguely. "Everything is a disaster! There is a typhoon. Granted, the winds are barely a hundred kilometers, barometric pressure aside. I mean, it's just up to signal number one. Honestly, people are so touchy, one would think that we'd be used to a little rainfall. Plus there's an old saying that rain on a wedding day is lucky--"
"Okay," Celia said, grabbing her friend's hands to still her. Vivian’s tension was so palpable the windows were practically vibrating off her emotions. Celia winced as a particularly annoying Taylor Swift song came on. “You have to calm down,” she said, taking Vivian’s hands. “Deep breaths.”
Vivian seemed to see something in Celia’s face, because she immediately responded, taking deep, slow breaths. This worked for a while until she remembered something else for the wedding, and Celia had to jump back.
"Give me--" Vivian began.
"A CD without a Taylor Swift song?" Celia retorted sarcastically, but one look from Vivian made her soften immediately. "Henry is with Ben, and here," Celia said, pulling a small velvet case from her bag and handing it to the bride. "With the utmost compliments of your slave-of-honor."
Vivian
gasped slightly at the simple blue diamond pendant. The thin gold chain clung to her like it belonged in her hands. The necklace had been a gift from Celia's grandmother, her namesake, when she died. Vivian wanted Celia to provide the “something borrowed” and this was the least she could do. Vivian squealed and asked Celia to put it around her neck, touching the pendant until it was fastened securely. Then she turned around to face at Celia.
"How do I look?" The bride asked, her big brown eyes expectant. She was still in a silk bathrobe and flip flops. She had no makeup on, and her hair was halfway done, framing her face perfectly, her light brown eyes shimmering in the warm yellow lighting. She was the girl of Ben's dreams.
Celia would never hurt Vivian intentionally. If it wasn't for Ben, she would have thrown herself into the wedding like it was her own. That was how much Vivian meant to her. She wasn't sure that she would be able to make it through today, but she had to. Vivian reached over and grabbed a sweating cup of iced Americano from the table. It was obviously from Ben. The man's blood was practically made of the stuff.
"You’re perfect," Celia said, smiling.
Vivian sighed and smiled in satisfaction. The blue would look great against the cream color of her wedding dress, its simplicity would play against the details of her gown to make her look more beautiful than she already was. There was tension and hesitation in her eyes though, understandable and yet totally out of place. She needed to calm down.
"I can't do this alone," Vivian said, picking at the flowers of her bouquet and flopping on the bed. "Whose idea was it that we should conform to such a banal social custom, anyway?"
"Yours," Celia said with a smile, pulling a sunflower from the hotel's arrangement nearby. Sunflowers were her favorite flower, ever since she was a little girl; she found them reassuring. They always managed to find sunlight, even in the darkest of times. Vivian knew this, and her nerves kind of melted away as Celia slipped the flower into her bridal bouquet. The yellow clashed with the white and peach, but she didn’t care.
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