by Tara Frejas
“Fitting room’s over there,” Erin said, letting go of the shirts when he had them with his arms.
“Are fairy godmothers allowed to be bullies?” Ramon asked when she turned him around and pushed him toward the general direction of the fitting room.
“This is not bullying.”
“Why are we doing this, exactly?”
“Can’t you just trust me?”
He sighed and made a show of dragging his feet to the fitting room.
“Try them one by one and show me, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and was greeted by a reflection of himself on the full-length mirror inside the brightly-lit cube.
Ramon sorted through the shirts first. Five of them, casual enough and not entirely weird for his taste. He was a shirt-and-jeans kind of guy, and Erin’s selections weren’t far from his personal style. The only difference were the splashes of color here and there. On the sleeves, the buttons, the neckline…
Although the thought of Erin picking clothes for him brought a smile to his face, he reminded himself not to get too excited. After all, this wasn’t meant to be anything else but a lesson on something he had yet to figure out.
The first item of clothing he tried on was a two-toned long-sleeved Henley shirt. He wondered why he didn’t ever consider wearing anything like this before. It looked…good.
He straightened his back and drew himself up to his full height. He felt good looking at himself in the mirror, seeing how nicely it fit him. The gray fabric hugged his torso nicely, and the bright red sleeves highlighted his broad shoulders in a way that made him look strong and not at all awkward.
Erin wasn’t there when he stepped out of the dressing room. Ramon scanned the area and found her walking through an aisle, looking at more clothes. Watching her every move, he couldn’t help but notice how graceful she had become. He was biased, no doubt, but he admired the way her chin aligned with her arms when she reached for things on shelves, or how her steps seemed to follow an imagined rhythm. When she ran her fingers over a rack of clothes, her hand was poised as though resting on a barre.
Call him crazy, but in his eyes, she didn’t simply move. She danced.
The thought made him smile. Erin didn’t use to be this nimble. Not in his eyes, at least. A few years ago, when she asked if he could teach her a dance routine for a particular audition, Ramon knew he had a lot of work cut out for him.
He did his best to whip Erin into shape for an entire month, patiently helping her add a touch of grace to the way she moved her body. He told her to mind how and where she pointed her toes, taught her about how even her fingers should tell a story, and caught her every time she fell attempting a pirouette.
“I knew it would look great on you!” Erin exclaimed when she spun around and saw him standing there. He straightened his back as she skipped toward him. His heart raced when she began making adjustments on the shirt he had on, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows and undoing all three buttons on the neckline.
She took a step back and and gave him a once-over. “I like it. What do you think?”
He looked at himself in the mirror. Not bad. “I like it too.”
“We’ll take it.” Erin clapped her hands. “Next!”
He entered the cubicle feeling a little more excited each time he tried on something new. And as he put on the last shirt—a long-sleeved, coffee brown V-neck—Ramon realized what Erin was trying to do.
He was so used to what was comfortable, so used to calculating everything until he got tired of overthinking and settled for what was safe. He was holding himself back from trying new and nicer things because at the back of his mind, he believed things weren’t going to go his way anyway.
Because he’s not the type to get what he wants just because he wants it.
“Aries is an original character,” Erin said, fixing his rolled-up sleeves when he stepped out of the fitting room wearing the last shirt she picked out for him. “A template for him doesn’t exist yet, so the actor playing him will set the standard and define what he is, what he should be. There is no such things as a type, especially for new characters like him—and there’s no reason to believe you can’t fill his shoes, Ramon. All you have to do is try.”
Again, his words…thrown right back at him.
“You know, I never understood why they say shopping is therapeutic. Until now.”
“Oh, but you know what’s more therapeutic?”
Ramon jerked an eyebrow. “Oh no, you’re hungry again aren’t you?”
Erin laughed. “You know me so well.”
Thirteen
Three days to audition day
“What are you smiling about, smileyface?” Pio asked as he sat beside Erin inside a small café called Sylly & Sweet.
Erin had on an amused smile when she looked up from her phone. “Throwback Thursday in the group chat. Ramon sent a picture of himself in a mascot costume.” She tapped on the screen to enlarge said photo and showed it to Pio. On it was a female rabbit mascot who wore a pink tutu, one paw covering its mouth like it was giggling over something hilarious.
“That’s him?”
Erin nodded and long-pressed on the image to save it. “This is awesome blackmail material,” she mumbled, then placed the phone on her table. “So what did you get?”
“First Kiss,” Pio replied, tapping on the round gadget that lit up and buzzed whenever an order was ready to be claimed. “And Hug Replacement.”
“Oh, awesome! I love those.”
“You come here often?”
“Kuya’s girlfriend owns this place, actually,” she said. “No wait. I’m not sure if they’re together, but I know Kuya Aidan’s making moves on Ate Sylvie.”
“You and your brother seem close. How much older is he?”
“Ten years.”
“Wow.”
“Yep. He looks pretty young for his age, though. Acts even younger than it, sometimes.”
Pio grinned. “Maybe he just wants to meet you halfway.”
“Don’t get me wrong—he’s a cool kuya. Mom and Dad are usually out of the country on business, so we kinda have to keep tabs on each other, but I like that he’s not trying to be my parent in their absence. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, it does. I’m feeling pretty jealous, actually.”
Erin shot Pio a look. “Why? You and your brothers aren’t close?”
“We are. But we’re also very critical of each other, so it gets stressful being around them,” Pio replied with a small laugh. “We are all pretty competitive.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said with a sage nod.
Erin guessed it couldn’t be helped. Each of the Alvez brothers excelled in their own artistic pursuits, just as their parents have. Isagani, the eldest who majored in violin, was a respected member of the Cultural Center Philharmonic Orchestra. Middle son Datu meanwhile dabbled in the indie film scene as a director, his recent works gaining recognition in film festivals here and abroad.
“Must be tough.”
“It gets frustrating at times, especially when you’re seen as the black sheep.”
She jerked an eyebrow. “You—a black sheep?”
Pio gave this question a bit of thought. “I just get measured by different standards, is all. And as of late, my overall rating’s just a little higher than ‘utter disgrace.’” He still laughed while he said this, but Erin couldn’t help but hear bitterness in the otherwise jovial sound. “I’ve learned to deal with it. Can’t please everybody, not even if they’re family.”
Different standards, Erin supposed, were influenced by an individual’s view of art and its different forms. It was actually nothing more than another, sometimes subtle, kind of prejudice—something that ran within very small circles. The theatre industry might be small, but even smaller cliques exist just like they do in high school or college. You have to be of a certain mold to belong, otherwise you can’t sit with the cool kids.
Erin w
as almost 100% sure Pio’s crossover to mainstream entertainment was the catalyst for this—him being branded a black sheep. Mainstream show business had always had a stigma attached to it after all. To others, it was nothing but a circus—where the good-looking but talentless actors are given the limelight while skilled thespians get shunted to the side as peripheral characters with no depth.
Was this why Pio wanted to return to the theatre? So he can make a statement about who he really was and what he can do apart from looking pretty on television or movie screens?
“I see,” was all Erin could say. Pio was quick to maneuver their conversation to another topic altogether, perhaps sensing the awkward mood he drove them into.
Just then, Erin’s phone lit up. New messages have arrived in their chat room.
When she picked up her phone, however, Pio placed his hand on her wrist. Her eyes met his when she turned to him, and he followed his gaze when it fell on her phone.
“Is it okay if…you don’t use your phone when we’re together?”
Erin recognized Pio’s hesitation when he made the request, but she thought it made sense. After all, this dating phase was a way to get to know each other better. It would be to their best interests if neither got sidetracked into doing other things in the rare moments they spent together.
“Unless it’s an emergency, of course,” he added.
“I’m sorry about that. Yes, of course, it’s okay.” Erin dropped her phone into her bag and did jazz hands in front of Pio’s face afterward. He flashed her a smile, and without another word, took her hand in his.
Pio’s hands were always warm and steady, and so unlike Ramon’s, she thought. Ramon’s hands seemed to be perpetually cold. Erin wondered why that was.
“Erin?”
“Hm?” With a slight turn of her head, Erin felt Pio’s lips touch her cheek. Once, twice—the feather light kisses drew giggles out of her, but as he leaned in for a third kiss, Erin shoved his face away with her free hand.
“Oops. Sorry,” he laughed. “My lips seem to have a mind of their own.”
Feigning disgust, Erin cringed. “That’s a very lame line. Who wrote that?”
He clicked his tongue and brought his face closer to hers. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek when he replied, “Sadly, not everyone is a Cosculluela.”
Did Pio have any idea how kilig she was right now? She knew her high-pitched giggle and the wild pounding of her heart against her rib cage already betrayed her. But even if she felt the need to catch her breath, Erin held her ground and challenged him. If Pio Alvez were to be her first real kiss, then so be it.
Oh my god. So be it.
“It’s all right. Kissing scenes don’t require words anyway.”
He took her words to heart, tilting his head slowly so that their lips could finally meet. She closed her eyes and remembered every single kissing rule she knew. Don’t pucker your lips. Loosen your jaw a little. Wait for the first touch, then respond. Push, pull, and then—
Bzzzt. Bzzzzzzt.
The way Erin and Pio pulled away from each other so quickly was almost comical, as though they were children about to get found out for stealing cookies in the middle of the night. The round gadget now vibrating against the table earned hard stares from them both.
Pio let out a sigh and picked up the device. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sure,” she replied, breathless. “I’m not going anywhere.”
* * *
Not fair, were the only words Erin could think of while watching Pio take a call outside the café only minutes after he returned to their table with their food. Why can he use his phone when someone calls him but she can’t?
Well, of course he has to answer his phone or his manager will kill him.
The phone call was taking longer than expected and Pio knew it. He waved at her from outside the shop window a few times, mouthing “Sorry” and gesturing for her to go ahead and eat if she wanted.
Oh, well. At least she now had the chance to jump back into the chat room and see what her friends are up to.
But the chat had already died down, and Erin spent a few minutes backreading everyone’s messages, amused at how everyone had a grand time teasing Ramon about his rabbit costume.
She pulled up a private chat window between Ramon and herself. I saved that picture, you know. Did you dance in that costume too? she typed and hit Send.
Yes, came his reply.
Show me sometime!
Erin frowned when Ramon replied with an outright ‘no.’
ERIN:Aw, come on. I bet you looked cute.
RAMON:Only because I had a costume on.
ERIN:Nah. You always looked great when you danced.
Please? Haha.
RAMON:And I get what in exchange for my shame?
ERIN:My love?
Is that enough?
When Ramon didn’t reply after that, Erin figured he was busy preparing for auditions even though today was a rest day. Indeed, after convincing him to reconsider auditioning for lead, there was an obvious boost in Ramon’s confidence. Erin saw a determined glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. She heard it in his voice whenever she’d catch him rehearsing. He now walked with an extra spring in his step, too.
Erin thought it might have to do something with the new clothes they bought—which he rocked, by the way—and she gave herself a pat in the back for a job well done.
The gentle sound of chimes drew her attention to the door. A young lady in a white shirt and jeans entered the shop and made a beeline for the counter, chatting with the barista a little before ordering “her usual” and a cup of brewed coffee to go. Erin peeled her eyes from the counter to check in on Pio, but her date seemed to have abandoned his spot outside the shop window.
She craned her neck. Maybe he went to get something from his car?
Instead of Pio, Erin saw Ramon walk out of the pizza place flanking Sylly & Sweet, holding a box of pizza in one hand. The gray and red Henley looked really good on him, Erin thought, readying a smile and a wave in case he turned and spotted her in the window.
He didn’t. Instead, he held his hand out to the young lady who just came out of Sylly & Sweet, the one who ordered “her usual” just a few minutes ago. Ramon seemed to insist on taking the coffee carrier she was holding but got turned down. Erin saw him smile and put an arm over the girl’s shoulder as they headed out to the parking lot.
As soon as they disappeared from view, Erin racked her brain for clues. For pieces of this puzzle she felt the urgent need to solve for some odd reason. She was reminded of a phone call Ramon took as they lined up to pay for his clothes last weekend. It was from someone he called “Ga.”
What did they talk about?
Pizza. They talked about pizza. Or at least she heard Ramon ask the person on the other line if they wanted to eat pizza and where.
Is Ga short for pangga? Erin mused, the Cebuano term of endearment suddenly crossing her mind. Is Ga Ramon’s girlfriend?
“Hey—I’m so sorry I took so long.”
Erin looked up and saw Pio entering the café. He settled in on the seat beside her again and placed his phone face down on the table. “My manager had to straighten out some overlapping schedules and needed to check in with me. Gosh, the coffee’s gone cold…”
Ramon has a girlfriend?
“Erin…are you mad at me?”
Being able to look at Pio’s face this closely was enough to pull Erin back to the moment. Her eyes followed the creases on his forehead and noted how his thick eyebrows were now drawn close together. His dark eyes were searching, curious. She drank in the sight of him, feeling herself let out a slow breath.
Focus, Erin. Focus.
“No, I’m not. Why would I be?”
“Because I just asked you not to use your phone when we’re together and I went off answering a long-ass phone call?”
She smirked. At least Pio acknowledged the “rule” should apply both ways. She patted
the back of his hand. “It’s fine, I understand.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Now can we get back on this date?”
“Of course.” A relieved smile appeared on his face. At least until he took a sip of his cold kapeng barako.
“Should’ve ordered iced coffee instead.” Erin laughed at the face he made and pushed her plate of cake toward him. “O, chaser.”
He mumbled a thanks and proceeded to fork a morsel of chocolate cake into his mouth. His chocolatey grin made Erin laugh a little more.
“I wish I could do this all the time,” he said, thumbing away a spot of frosting by the corner of his lips.
“Drink cold coffee and eat cake?”
Pio shook his head. “Make you laugh. A lot.”
And there it was again, Erin’s kilig swirling in her stomach and tickling her throat, almost escaping her in the form of a squeal. Her ears felt warm under the air conditioning all of a sudden too. “Telling you how will ruin the fun, won’t it?”
“True.” He nodded. His eyes were gentler now, still searching, but not apprehensive. Maybe Pio thought if he looked into her eyes hard enough, he’d figure out how to keep her happy. Erin minded and didn’t at the same time. Locking gazes with Pio Alvez may be nice and educational, but also potentially dangerous. If she didn’t look away now, she might not be able to keep herself from kissing him.
And that’s bad, considering the café now had more customers who’d be privy to a thing that Pio Alvez shouldn’t be doing with another girl.
“So—” She cleared her throat and brought her coffee cup to her lips, a barrier to remind her that this wasn’t the time and place. “Are you ready for the auditions?”
“Sure. You?”
“Still not auditioning.”
He clicked his tongue. “All right, but you have to be there.”
“I will be.”
“You should be,” Pio stressed. “Because my audition song is for you.”
Fourteen
“Did you learn how to cook in Singapore?”
