by Tara Frejas
“Thank you, Erin,” he continued, lightly tapping his index finger on her nose. “Labyu.”
Blinking, she thought, I love you too.
* * *
ERIN: Ate, I need your help.
Erin met Hiraya’s curious gaze after the latter read her message. The playwright narrowed her eyes at Erin but replied to the chat anyway.
ATE H: I’m like ten steps away from you, Erin. What is this?
ERIN: People might hear.
ATE H: People meaning Mark.
ERIN: Among others.
ATE H: Is this about Pio?
ERIN: I guess?
ATE H: You GUESS?
Erin sighed and told Hiraya she was confused. Because Pio was a frickin’ dream, the boy you take home to meet your mom. And the fact that there was absolutely NO problem with that was her problem.
Hiraya’s brows furrowed as she typed.
ATE H: You’re losing me here.
ERIN: He’s perfect, ate. At least to me, he is. But wouldn’t it be unfair to him if I kept thinking of
someone else when we’re together?
ATE H: Ohoho. Please tell me it’s Ramon.
When Erin didn’t reply, Hiraya threw her a glare from across the room. Erin only nodded.
ATE H: Hallelujah. There is a god.
ERIN: What?
ATE H: What? I like him. I’m not saying Pio isn’t a great guy, but I don’t know much about him yet to say. But Ramon. Ah, he’s something. I don’t know if it’s because you went to the same school
or whatever, but I get the same vibes from both of you. I feel like you complement each other well. And don’t think I don’t see how he looks at you.
ERIN: What do you mean?
ATE H: There’s just something there. I don’t know how to explain it.
ERIN: Ate, he has a girlfriend.
ATE H: He does?
ERIN: Yeah. I mean, I think so.
That reply merited another glare.
ERIN: I’m not sure, okay? But once in a while I hear him on the phone with a girl and they talk about stuff.
ATE H: Like sex.
ERIN: No! Like...what she wants to eat, or if she’d gotten home safe. Things like that.
ATE H: Are you fricking kidding me. He could be talking to his MOM.
ERIN: It’s NOT his mom. He calls her “Ga.” That’s a term of endearment, right?
ATE H: Could be. Could mean a lot of things.
ATE H: Like gago, for example.
ATE H: Wait. Do you eavesdrop in his phone calls? Because I never pegged you as the type.
ERIN: He’s not necessarily whispering to her when they talk on the phone, okay.
ATE H: Okay. Fine. Suppose this is a girlfriend. SO? They’re not married yet.
ERIN: I can’t believe you’re saying this.
ATE H: I’m not telling you to steal him away. I’m just saying it’s not a crime to like him. But think about this: Are you sure about your feelings for Ramon? Maybe you only feel attached to him because you guys have history?
ERIN: I’m...not sure.
ATE H: Well, what I’m sure about is we need to get some drinks, and soon.
Eighteen
Dear Erin,
I have been thinking long and hard about how to tell you things that never really make it to our day-to-day conversations. Things you should know. Things I’ve kept in my heart for years. You’d think that being friends for a long time makes you confident about being honest, but that’s a mistake.
Or maybe that’s just me.
I have nothing on your fantastic memory, but I can tell you this: I still remember the day you asked me to teach you how to dance.
That wasn’t the best year of my life. I was diagnosed with alopecia areata and felt like the entire world was crumbling beneath my feet. Dramatic shit, right? When you came up to me and asked for a favor, I was dumbstruck. You said you wanted to audition for Green Room’s next production, but your two left feet would be a problem. “Can you teach me how to dance?” you asked, and then followed up with, “I can pay you for lessons.”
I remember laughing. I remember thinking someone was playing a cruel prank on me, because why the hell would you entrust your dream to me?
But I’ve always had a hard time saying no to anyone, and that was why I trained you an hour a day for an entire month.
You opened up to me, and I to you. You told me it had always been your dream to be on stage, performing. You told me you wanted to be a theatre actress, and a damn good one at that. You wanted to do musicals because they were so magical and fun. This was your first step to achieving that dream, you said, and I found myself dreaming with you too.
Because it’s difficult not to, when I looked into your bright eyes and saw nothing but hope.
You were the escape I didn’t know I needed, Erin. When I was with you, I felt strong, capable. I felt I could do something good despite the handicap I struggled to hide. Again, I was a dramatic 18-year old who didn’t know any better, but I knew then, deep in my heart, I wanted to be with you.
Coming home and spending all this time with you again, I realize I still do.
I love you.
Always,
Ramon
* * *
Finally.
Ramon signed his name on the letter, put his pen down on the desk, and stretched his arms up in the air. His joints cracked here and there, relieving the knots in his shoulders. With a sigh, he picked up the letter he just finished writing and read through it twice.
When he began writing Erin a letter two hours ago, he thought perhaps brevity would do him good. Stick to a formula, say only what’s necessary, he told himself.
But Ramon found his feelings overwhelming and pointless to condense. Once he had a grasp on the words, he let his pen move across the piece of paper as though dancing to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He paused when his fingers ached around the pen and picked it up again before his words got ahead of him.
There were a few unfinished drafts on the table now—mingled with his script and music sheets—discarded paragraphs he found too cheesy or cringe-inducing. His latest draft probably wasn’t any better, but he was satisfied with it for now.
Look at you, overthinking even this. Jesus, Ramon. You’re hopeless.
Underneath all the mess was a black gift box. Earlier that day, he decided to swing by a mall to find a thank you gift for Erin, and he ended up buying a charm bracelet.
He opened the box and stared at the dainty little thing—silver plated with five different hand-picked charms dangling from it. Erin didn’t usually wear accessories aside from a simple pair of earrings and a watch, but Ramon thought she would like this one.
He admired the charm bracelet for a while, imagining how pretty it would look around Erin’s wrist. He could only wish she doesn’t wear it to one of her dates with Pio, though.
Brain, stop being such a douche.
Maybe tomorrow he would be able to gather enough courage to place this and his letter in Erin’s hands. Maybe tomorrow he’d finally get an answer. Maybe tomorrow he’d be ready to hear it too.
Maybe.
Nineteen
Two weeks later
Teatro Lakambini’s halls bustled with activity as production for Hanggang Ulap went into full throttle. Hiraya and Jericho worked hand in hand with their director, Juliana, and the cast to finalize the script and musical arrangements. Chinee and Mark put on their stage manager hats, coordinating things with the different departments and making sure rehearsals were running as smoothly as possible.
Meanwhile, the Alvez Foundation for the Arts sent some of their best people to help out, including the set crew who just finished constructing the stage.
Collective oohs and ahhs filled the theatre when Christian, the production designer, finally revealed the stage to the rest of the company. Erin had a grin plastered on her face as she took in the sight, mentally comparing the finished product to the mock-up they greenlighted just a w
eek ago.
Set against a realistically painted cityscape backdrop was a movable set piece that, depending on which side faced the audience, served as the hospital and Aries’ house. Lights were manipulated to make the cityscape look bustling during the day and elegantly peaceful at night.
The second level stage, which represented the alternate plane Hannah would be in during her coma, was decorated with clouds that looked so fluffy Erin wanted to run up and touch them. There were movable pieces there too, to make the flight and landing of paper planes look magical and organic. Erin couldn’t help but squeal when Christian demonstrated the arrival of the paper planes.
“Well that in itself is going to be worth your money,” Juliana commented, impressed at the design. Everyone else agreed.
“We’ll just need to stress test the second level stage to make sure our actors will be safe,” Christian explained as everyone looked on. “I know we’re working on a tight schedule so we’re doing the best we can to finish everything as soon as possible. You can start rehearsing on the first level, though, so feel free to spike the floor.”
“I want to see where we are with choreography before we decide on final actor blocking,” Juliana declared. “Are we ready for the choreography for Limang Linggong Liham?”
Ramon stepped forward. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ve heard good things about you from Mamu. Shall we begin?”
Erin watched in anticipation as Ramon went up the stage with Regina and prepared to show their completed choreography. She saw bits and pieces of it during rehearsals, but she was curious about its entirety.
“Erin?” Jericho called out from behind the piano.
“Yes?”
“Iris and Andrea won’t be back from their promotional shoot until later. Can you sing for us for the meantime?”
She felt a soft nudge to her arm and found Pio smiling at her when she turned her head.
“Cool. I get to sing this with you,” he said with a smile. She only smiled back.
The song Limang Linggong Liham was a duet that narrated how the main character Hannah starts receiving paper plane letters from Aries. It begins in a light, hopeful tone as she reminisces happier times while reading the letters that remind her of how she and Aries met, how they fell in love, and the life they had together. Eventually, the song becomes melancholy as Hannah’s condition takes a turn for the worst.
Although not part of the performing cast, Erin already knew the words and vocal placements to this song by heart. She was always good at that, and she was confident she didn’t need a music sheet to guide her. But as Ramon and Regina interpreted the song on stage, Erin found herself engrossed in the choreography, stumbling on the lyrics here and there.
Pio carried on steadily despite her lapses and leaned close to her so they could share his music sheet. Embarrassed, Erin stared hard at the piece of paper and sang, determined not to commit any more mistakes.
As the song came to an end, Erin shot a nervous look at Juliana, certain she would get a scolding.
But nothing of the sort happened. The director seemed too mesmerized by the performance to care about Erin’s flawed singing.
“That was some great work, Ramon!” was Juliana’s comment after the performance ended. “We may have to adjust your blocking later on, but I really like what you have so far.”
“Thank you ma’am.”
Erin’s eyes were fixed on Ramon as he and Juliana engaged in a short discussion about the other songs he was choreographing. Seeing him this confident filled Erin’s heart with pride, and the huge smile on her face let it show.
There goes my Ramon, she thought, sighing. It wasn’t until a second later that she caught herself. Um. What?
“You messed up your lines,” she heard Pio whisper, breaking her train of thought.
Erin replied with a small laugh and flipped through the pages of her script for no reason. “Well, aren’t we glad I’m not part of the cast?”
“Pfft, you know I’m still sore you’re not playing Hannah.”
“Maybe I’m playing coy so you’ll come back to Lakambini again for another production,” Erin said, smirking. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Ramon and Regina talking at the side of the stage. Both wore triumphant smiles, clearly happy over Juliana’s positive criticism of the work they’ve done so far. Ramon raised a hand. Regina high-fived it, and then giddily threw her arms around him afterward.
Something bitter shot up Erin’s throat, and it was about as offensive as the beer she had with Hiraya the past weekend while they talked about Ramon and her growing attachment to him.
“You like him,” Hiraya had told her. “You like him and you just don’t want to admit it.”
What else was there to admit? Of course she liked Ramon. He was a friend. He was someone she trusted and cared about.
But Hiraya had been adamant this was not the case. “Just own up to your feelings, Erin. If you keep them bottled up like that, sooner or later you’re going to explode and make a mess of things.”
Erin looked up at the stage once more where Ramon and Regina began working on another song’s choreography. As they moved across the stage like passionate lovers who lived in a world of their own, she felt the urge to throw her script on the ground and stomp her way out of the theatre. Instead, she gathered her things, tucked them inside her tote bag, and left the theatre quietly.
Hiraya was wrong. She wasn’t going to make a mess of things.
She was already a mess on her own.
* * *
“Hey.” Erin knocked on the wide open door of one of the dressing rooms. She was looking for Ramon and found him there, rehearsing songs by himself while everyone else prepared to leave for the night.
He had a ready smile on his face when he looked over his shoulder and saw her. “Hey.”
“Aren’t you going home?”
“In a bit,” he said, then turned his attention to the already-frayed music sheets he was holding. “You?”
“Waiting for Pio.”
Ramon nodded. “I see.”
Erin entered the room and took a seat beside Ramon. “What were you studying?”
“Himig ng Pag-uwi. Jericho changed something up and I get lost in this one part when the harmony comes in.”
“Let me see.”
Ramon handed her the music sheet, and Erin gave it a look. “There, second chorus—” he said, pointing to a section he highlighted with a blue marker.
“Do you want to rehearse this with me until you get used to the new shift?”
He looked unsure. “Is that all right?”
Erin smiled, then clicked her tongue. “Of course.”
“Thanks. I meant to approach the other actresses earlier but I had to teach Mots the rest of the choreography, so...” He let out a defeated sigh and shook his head. “Anyway, thanks. I appreciate it.”
Erin pulled her chair closer to Ramon’s and laid the music sheet between their laps. She hummed the chords to the intro, then counted “...2, 3, and—”
“Lumalamig mga araw at gabing wala ka / Sinta, ‘di ka pa ba magbabalik?”
A shiver ran down Erin’s spine when Ramon began to sing, his voice hushed as though entrusting her with a secret. “Puso’y nangangamba, ako ay nangungulila / Inaasam ang mga yakap mo’t halik.”
“Mahal, pauwi ako sa iyong mga bisig / Batid kong puso mo’y nananabik,” Erin began, matching the gentle way Ramon sang his lines. “Puso’y umaasa, nananaginip / Mamasdan ka sa aking pagbabalik.”
As their voices melded together, she found herself holding on to his wrist, her index finger tapping lightly against his skin to dictate the rhythm.
“Ipaglalaban ko / Ating mga pangarap.”
“Sandaling paghihintay / Na lang ang ating hinaharap...”
As instructed on the music sheet, Erin sustained the note and squeezed Ramon’s wrist, knowing this was the part he was having trouble with. He locked his gaze on her and went on to sing the next lines.
“Kahit isandaang libong sandali’y / Kayang tiisin kahit gaano katagal”
“Pakiusap ko sana’y huwag kang mapapagal...”
“Hangga’t umiikot ang mundo / Hangga’t tumitibok ang puso / Ako ay nangangakong pag-ibig ko’y iyo...”
“Mahal na mahal kita,” Ramon whispered the spoken lines toward the end of the song, prompting Erin to look up and find his dark brown eyes already fixed on her. “Maghihintay ako.”
As heat rushed up her cheeks, she found herself all choked up and blinking away tears. She missed her cue on the last line—“Ako ay pauwi na / Mahal, sa iyong pag-ibig.”
“Ika’y hinihintay na / Nitong aking mga bisig.”
The song came to an end, their voices coming together in perfect harmony, as though they’ve rehearsed this forever. As silence blanketed the room, Erin slowly let go of Ramon’s wrist and pulled her hand away, fully aware of how his face was a mere inches away from hers.
“Y-you...nailed it,” she breathed. “Great job.”
His hand rose to cradle her face, thumb gently swiping a tear across her cheek. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just—” Part of her wanted to pull away, but the warmth of his touch was alluring. Could she stay in it a little while longer? “—a very emotional song.”
“Yeah.”
“You did great.”
“You already said that.”
Erin breathed in the intoxicating scent of Ramon’s cologne as he pushed a lock of hair away from her face. Locking gazes with him, she saw a familiar glint in his eyes. She was certain she saw this before. She saw it while they were dancing the night of Jericho and Hiraya’s party.
The room felt so small all of sudden. Or was it her rib cage shrinking around her pounding heart? Whatever it was, Erin found it hard to breathe when Ramon’s gaze seemed to have dropped to her lips, which were already dangerously close to his. And when he tilted his head, slowly closing the gap between them, she panicked.
“I have to go,” she announced, turning her head. She pushed her chair back to where it was before. “Pio is…he’s…”
