by Tara Frejas
This small, nondescript bar called Tambayan was a popular hangout for yuppies and college students who were looking for cheap beer and open mic entertainment. On weeknights like this however, the place wasn’t as packed, which also meant the ambient noise allowed for actual conversation.
“I’m not drunk.”
“Not saying you are.”
A waitress approached their table to inform them the kitchen was closing soon and they were taking last orders for the night. Mark quickly answered for them both. “We’re good. Please send us the bill, thank you.”
“I overreacted, didn’t I?” asked Ramon. His eyes were fixed on a small black stain on the table cloth, perhaps a mix of soy sauce and spiced vinegar, a condiment to their pulutan earlier.
“No, man. I get you. I’d probably feel the same way if I were in your shoes.”
Ramon shook his head and sighed. The liquor in his system started to create pools of heat on his temples, his throat, his stomach. He made a mental note to get up very slowly later on, or his knees might just betray him and send him crashing against the table.
“But you know Erin,” Mark continued. “Once she’s set her mind on something, she isn’t going to give it up just like that.”
“Yeah.” A small smile appeared on Ramon’s lips, recalling Erin’s stubborn nature.
“I remember this one time when Erin was still a Lakambini rookie and we decided to prank their batch during an outing,” Mark recounted with a smile. “We explored a nearby lake and began throwing the rookies into the water. It was all fun and games y’know...until we noticed that Erin wasn’t playing with everyone else. She was just wading through the water, looking for something.
“Turns out she had this thing with her. A charm of some sort that she kept in her pocket, and it fell out when we threw her into the water.”
Ramon narrowed his eyes at Mark as he continued with the story. “She never left the water until she found the damn thing. Jericho felt so sorry because the prank was his idea, so he stayed and helped Erin find it.”
“Did they find it?”
“Oh, yeah.” Mark nodded. “It took them hours.”
“What was it?”
“Some kind of silver button. Or was it a coin?” Mark mused, second-guessing himself. “Erin said it was her lucky charm.”
Ramon dug into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out the silver coin Erin “loaned” to him during his audition. “Did it look like this?”
Mark’s eyes sparkled with recognition as he took the object from Ramon’s hand. “Hey...yeah, it did look like this.” He examined it, then looked up at Ramon. “Wait, is this a couple thing?”
“No. It’s—” How should Ramon explain it? This object was nothing more than a piece of metal Ramon collected while cleaning his dorm room the morning of Erin’s audition. He thought it looked peculiar, so he took a little time to dust it off before shoving it into his jeans pocket.
“Erin had been so anxious about her first audition for our university theatre org. She wasn’t a very good dancer back then and the role she really wanted required the skill…”
“So you taught her.”
Ramon nodded. “I went to her audition to cheer her on. And I thought that if Erin only had something to channel her nervous energy into, she’d do great. That coin had been in my pocket, and I just gave it to her before she went on stage.”
Mark laughed softly. “You mean to say this was a fake lucky charm.”
“Erin worked hard for what she wanted. She didn’t need luck to land that role.”
“No, but she needed you,” Mark pointed out. “Now I’m inclined to believe Erin always held a special place for you in her heart. Why else would she hold on to this piece of trash? No offense.”
“None taken.” Ramon took the coin from Mark’s hand and stared at it for a good long while.
“Listen, man. I understand that you got hurt, but Erin would never do something to intentionally hurt anyone. Yes, she might not have thought things through...but people get impulsive when they’re in love, don’t they?”
Ramon shot Mark a look. He hadn’t told the stage manager yet about what happened between him and Erin the night before.
“Erin—in love? With me?” he asked, feigning surprise. Then again, Erin’s exact words were “I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” so there was always that miniscule chance of her having a change of heart.
Mark clicked his tongue and picked up his phone. He pulled something up from his photo gallery and showed it to his friend. Ramon couldn’t believe his eyes.
“People say I’m chismoso, but I’m just an observant person,” Mark said with a laugh while Ramon stared in disbelief at a candid photo of Erin and himself as they danced against the evening skyline. The photo summoned memories of that night, of laughter and songs and conversation, of the way Erin’s body felt pressed against his.
“You know, there’s just...an energy, a dynamic between the two of you I’ve only seen in one other Lakambini pair before.”
Ramon looked up from the photo. “And that would be?”
“Jericho and Hiraya, of course.”
A scoff. “You, my friend, are drunk.”
“And you—” Mark pointed his index finger to Ramon’s face. “—my friend, are going home. And then you’re going to sober up, get a good night’s sleep, and show up at rehearsal tomorrow at 9 o’ clock sharp. Your personal matters may interest me, but that’s out of my jurisdiction as stage manager.”
“And as a friend?”
“As a friend, I’d tell you to set aside your pride before Pio makes another move. I mean, have you seen him smile? He’s dangerous.”
Ramon could only laugh.
Twenty-Four
“Is there anything I can do to help you straighten things out with Ramon?”
Erin stared straight at Pio and asked herself if she heard him right. She dreaded having to go through another confrontation, but she sucked it up and agreed to meet him when he asked. She expected him to still be upset, to ask him why she led him on when she clearly had someone else in her heart. She expected him to raise his voice and leave in a huff.
She didn’t expect…well, this, him asking her so nicely if he could do anything for her and Ramon.
“I don’t think I’m in the position to be asking you for anything.”
“No, seriously.” Pio kept his hands in his jacket pockets as he spoke. “I know…it’s uncomfortable. And honestly? I’m heartbroken. But I also know I caused a horrible mess. What kind of person would I be if I left you alone to pick up the pieces?”
She shook her head. “Pio, I can’t. That’s just cruel.”
“You can think of it as therapy,” he said, flashing her his signature smile—that sweet, arresting smile that could get her tongue-tied so easily. Her heart still fluttered at the sight, but it was a fleeting feeling now, replaced with admiration for this man’s willingness to push his ego aside in the name of doing the right thing. “I mean, if I can’t make you happy as a boyfriend...I might as well be a friend, right?”
“You are unbelievable.”
“I will take that as a compliment, thank you,” Pio said, doing a little theatrical bow. “So, got any plans?”
* * *
“Are you sure it’s okay for us to be here?”
Pio looked up from tuning the guitar he held and clicked his tongue. “How many times do I have to tell you—I own this place. It’s fine.”
Erin would’ve rolled her eyes if she were talking to another guy who bragged about this and that without much basis. But this was Pio Alvez, and one of the upsides to being an Alvez is 24/7 access to any of AFFA’s facilities, including the music studio they were in.
“Yabang mo rin, no?” she teased.
“Stating a fact is not yabang,” Pio corrected and nodded his head toward the piece of paper Erin had been scribbling on for the last half hour. “How’s your writing going?”
She clicked her tongue. �
��Don’t pressure me. I’m not as prolific as Ate H, you know.”
“Time to call in reinforcements then.”
“What? No!” Her response came so quick blood rushed to her face in a snap. Pio laughed. “It’s already bad enough that I got you into this—no need to bother anyone else.”
He strummed a random chord, shooting her a curious look. “But you said this was your grand gesture! What if we need a pianist? Or some dancers?”
Erin just gave him a look.
“All right, fine.” He knocked on the table and pointed to her pen. “We’ll think about logistics later. Just get that song down, chop chop!”
“I’m trying! Be quiet!”
As Pio’s laughter filled the studio again, Erin could only shake her head and smile. Oddly enough, she was enjoying this time with Pio more than when they were out on dates. He was fun to be with, but she also felt like they were dancers constantly trying to find the perfect rhythm to jive to.
Maybe putting your best foot forward every single time didn’t always mean you’ll end up dancing to the same beat. Maybe she was made for jazz and Pio was made for cha-cha-cha. They could both be excellent dancers, but they won’t be able to fall into step with each other no matter how hard they tried.
It was two hours later when Erin squealed “Done!” and startled Pio who had dozed off in his chair.
With a yawn, he glanced at his watch. “Great, it’s way past my bedtime,” he joked and held his hand out. “Let me see.”
Erin gave the lyrics she wrote one last look before giving the piece of paper to Pio. As he read through it, she nibbled on her lower lip nervously, anticipating harsh criticism. Was it corny? Too cheesy? Did her rhymes make no sense?
“See, this makes me want to keep you for myself even more,” was what Pio said instead, smiling at her. Seeing tears brimming in his eyes pinched Erin’s heart.
She wanted to say something comforting. Or funny, maybe. Anything to distract them both from another emotionally-charged conversation. But...nothing.
Pio cleared his throat and let a low chuckle dispel any trace of sadness in the air. Erin observed how the lines on his face hardened in concentration while reading through the words a second time. She watched him as he formed music in his head.
When he placed the piece of paper on the table, it was as though he was laying down his arms in defeat.
“All right.” He gave her a look that urged her to focus, his fingers poised on the guitar fret. “Let’s try this...”
Twenty-Five
Ramon found it difficult to ignore Erin’s marked absence the next day. He missed her constant puttering around backstage, her laughter when Mark cracked jokes, and even her penchant for bursting into song at random times.
He thought of calling her even if he wasn’t sure what to say. Reaching out was the first step, right? If he ended up sounding stupid, at least Erin would know he wanted to sort things out. His head was clearer now, and he wasn’t overcome with anger like the day before.
Unfortunately, every time he tried to make a phone call, a distraction presented itself.
Like Juliana, for example, who asked for help in blocking adjustments for the principal dancers. Or Jericho, who called him over to listen in to a change in musical arrangement.
Or Mark, who checked in on him, thinking he was hungover.
He wasn’t.
Later in the afternoon, Ramon stood in the wings, observing the actors as they rehearsed. In the corner of the stage where the piano was situated, he saw Hiraya and Jericho, lost in what seemed like a serious discussion. Ramon found himself watching them instead, recalling Mark’s words the night before.
Finally, the couple seemed to have agreed on something. A smile broke on Hiraya’s face, instantly mirrored by Jericho, who leaned in and dropped a quick kiss on his fiancee’s forehead. Hiraya smacked his chest with a rolled-up script, and he laughed before returning to his spot behind the piano.
Ramon shook his head. He still didn’t understand what it was Mark saw between himself and Erin to say that they reminded him of Jericho and Hiraya, but he supposed it was a nice sentiment to hold on to.
He called Hiraya’s attention when she passed him on the way backstage. She turned to him with a ready smile. “Yes, Ramon?”
“I was just wondering if you’ve heard from Erin today.”
Hiraya’s eyes seemed to light up at the mention of Erin’s name. Her smile turned a little mischievous too, or was he only imagining things? “No, sorry. The wardrobe team might still be busy sourcing materials out in Divisoria.”
“Ah, I see.”
“She might be back later tonight.”
“Right. Thanks.”
Hiraya reached for his arm and gave it an affectionate pat. “I hope you guys work things out,” she said, the smile on her face now warm and sympathetic. “Don’t worry about yesterday. It doesn’t matter what we heard. Everyone has seen and felt your dedication to this show—a small misunderstanding can’t undo all the work you’ve done.”
When she stepped forward to give him a hug, the heavy weight in Ramon’s chest seemed to dissipate. It was a slow unburdening, but a welcome relief nonetheless. He heard Hiraya say “thank you” before letting him go, and he thanked her too for the comfort she offered.
* * *
“Hey, man...”
Ramon looked up from his notes, surprised to see Pio pull out a chair from across him. The actor had a cup of coffee in his hand, which he placed on the table before sitting down.
“I’m not going to ask if we could talk because I feel like you’re going to say no, but I’ll make this quick,” Pio said and placed a hand on his chest. “Pare, I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
Pio shot him a look that might as well have meant “Seriously?” but continued speaking anyway. “I’m sorry because I was stupid and I blurted out something I shouldn’t. Granted, we were having a private conversation but who really has a private conversation backstage, right?”
“Right.”
“Anyway…Erin and I had an argument the night before and after that I couldn’t get in touch with her. I was so desperate, I just did whatever I could to get her attention.”
Can’t blame you. I wouldn’t have done any better if I were in your shoes, Ramon thought.
“Did she really ask you to give me a show?”
The actor paused and seemed to contemplate on the possible repercussions of his reply. “Yes, but—” he raised both hands in front of Ramon, a request to let him finish talking. “It wasn’t like she begged. It was a suggestion, a random idea she threw into our conversation, and...”
“...and?”
Pio’s face fell. “And that was when I realized she liked you. I had a feeling you and Erin had a thing but I thought it was just because you were old friends and you had history together. Turns out I was right all along.”
Life was so strange sometimes, Ramon mused as he watched Pio anxiously tap his fingers against his coffee cup. When the handsome actor made a move on Erin, Ramon had been ready to wave the white flag, certain there was no way he’d win against Pio Alvez. Now that the tables were turned, he didn’t know what to say.
“I’m really sorry, man. I’ve talked to everyone else—picked up after myself, y’know. You’ve been working so hard and I felt bad thinking you’d get judged just because I was a careless fuck.”
Ramon let out a laugh, for a moment shocked to hear boy-you-take-home-to-mom Pio utter a curse word. “Pio, it’s fine. Really. But I appreciate it.”
“I’d really like it if we could start over,” Pio suggested, reaching across the table for a handshake. “Friends?”
Without hesitation this time, Ramon took Pio’s hand. “Of course.”
A relieved smile appeared on Pio’s face, followed by a sigh. Ramon wondered if Pio felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest too.
“Thanks, man.” Pio got up and leaned forward to give Ramon a br
ief hug. Before pulling away, he whispered. “Erin’s waiting for you at the roof deck.”
“What?”
Pio let him go and picked up his cup of coffee from the table, a knowing smile now lining his face. “Don’t make her wait too long. It looks like it’s going to rain again.”
* * *
He didn’t rehearse any lines.
That was what ran through Ramon’s head as he rushed up to the roof deck. All day, he thought that when he saw Erin, he’ll have a lot of things to say. Now, all his mind could come up with was a mental image of her in his arms, smiling, content.
But as soon as he stepped out into the roof deck, even that mental image went flying out the window. There, just several strides away from him, was a makeshift wooden stage bedecked with strings of rice lights. On it stood Erin, wearing a little black dress and a smile that competed with the glow of the moon above them.
“What are you doing?” The words came out of him like a gasp.
“Auditioning.”
“For what?”
“For the role of Erin Javier, Ramon Figueroa’s girlfriend.”
Ramon’s heart skipped a beat, Erin’s words leaving him slack-jawed. Out of nowhere, guitar music began to play a tune unfamiliar to him. He was about to try and figure out where the music was coming from, but her voice was enough to pull his attention back to where it should be. Her voice was low—lower than he’s used to hearing—but velvety, and so sexy.
“One afternoon, out of the blue / one, two, three / one, two, three / I tiptoed my way to you / one, two, three / one, two, three...”
Just when he started wishing he could waltz with Erin to this song, Ramon saw Regina enter his periphery with an awkward pirouette. Mots appeared on the other side, minding his own business.
“I asked if you could teach me how to dance,” Erin sang while Regina tiptoed around Mots, who looked unimpressed, uncertain. “And that’s how this story began.”
Tears soon stung Ramon’s eyes as he laughed, recognizing some of the most memorable afternoons of his college life interpreted through dance.
