Je t'aime ma chère. Pour toujours.
"Anthony, come to me!" she said while holding out her hand, summoning me to come to her.
A bright light covered me. Her eyes widened in amazement. Everything in my sight went white and I found myself rolling down a shaking and furious Mt. Mayon. It was spewing ashes and lava. The fiery volcano seemed really angry at me. Never in my life have I burned more calories due to the running and jumping done to dodge fire and magma.
If Bianca only knew what I have to go through just to get to her. Something could have gone wrong with her summon.
I did not care.
All I was thinking was how to see her again. I was so worried for her.
Where could she be?
I took a ride on a weird-looking carriage. They called it a bus. The sudden brakes and otherworldly speed of that beastly thing made me want to throw up. I covered my mouth with my hands just in case the inevitable happens. A good lady gave me a plastic to vomit on.
"Here, little boy. It's normal for kids." she said while stroking my head.
A sound of a boy throwing up came at my back.
Then, at my left.
And right.
With all my power, I refused to let any of my stomach contents to spill out.
No way.
Composure is a must even if I already felt like dying.
This is how to be a real man!
After hours of a torturous travel, we were taken by the local government to the next city to be safe from the volcano eruption.
Everything was different from my time and world. Nowhere to be found are the simple folks I used to see back in my era. Everyone seemed worried and too busy watching a rectangular thing set up on the stadium. I wondered how those people and objects moved inside the box*. I sat in a corner and observed.
(Antoine's first time to see a television)
As I knew that I had no identity for this time, I decided to get a guardian. I thought that maybe, having a bit of supernatural in me had its perks too and can be use in this situation.
Suddenly, I remembered Father.
I felt sad leaving him.
I am the only one he had.
Even if he was strict and a little cold on me, I had lots of good memories being with him.
Father always said that my good looks came from his side because my mother is ugly. I could feel the hurt in his voice whenever he spoke of my mother, Rosa. He called her a cunning and a beastly being for hiding her true identity to him. His hate of her was definitely a lie and I always knew it.
He loves her even if he kept on denying it.
I caught him many times looking at Mother's portrait on a locket.
His mean and dry sense of humor would sometimes land him in trouble, even with Mariano's father. The latter challenged him to a duel.
It was Mr. Reynaldo Delos Santos' fault.
"Never mess up with a Sta. Maria" is our family's credo. We are silent people but never ever insult our name or even our anatomy.
He did not learn.
On one party, he questioned my father, Francisco Sta. Maria why he did not have any more lady lovers and only had one son. I must say that Father is a very attractive man and a lot of women still desired him, yet he did not take one. That could have caused a lot of gossips. It is a very sensitive topic back then. Mr. delos Santos called the Sta. Maria men as weaklings and deprived of manliness.
In retaliation, Father let his tactless and brattiness do the talking.
My father, as proud as he could be and very confident of his fighting ability and manliness refused to apologize for calling him "a dirty old man". He knew how Mr. delos Santos treats his servants, especially the females so savagely and abusively. He firmly disapproves of the act so he called him such. The duel went on and my father won. His bullet left a scar on the old Don's* right cheek.
(Spanish word for mister or a term of respect for a man of high social status)
Father threw a victory party, gave our servants bonuses, ang invited Mr. Reynaldo' workers to come over and have fun. The insensitive act made the Delos Santos family more cautious in dealing with us. The sons, except Mariano, avoided him at all cost. He surely knows how to beat his enemies' ego to a pulp.
Both men decided to be civil with each other to avoid any more fights.
My father would always insist on something especially if he thinks he is right. This extreme attitude of his made me want to have a little freedom from his strict way of disciplining me. He was not physically abusive. It was just like what he says, stays.
No buts.
Maybe, as how a little boy would naturally think, I could get a little break from him. A taste of freedom somehow soothed my worries of what will happen to me next.
I spotted a decent-looking couple handing out relief goods to the evacuees. I sensed that they are good people so I gathered all my strength and charm to approach the lady.
"Hi! " she greeted and looked at me with motherly concern. I hesitated to continue my plan as I got too nervous. I grew up with no mother and had no idea how to approach one.
I just stared at her, thinking.
"Where are your parents? Do you need something?"
I still, stared at her.
"Should I make "pretty eyes"?" I thought. "No, bad idea. Too wimpy."
Afraid of losing her attention on me, I just pretended to faint.
"Oh my God! Somebody help us!" she screamed in panic.
Soon enough, they took care of me and welcomed me in their home. Lucky for me, they found me too cute and would never let me go. I have to thank my mother's genes for the charm.
They took me home in Cavite. Fate or luck was kind to me as it brought me to her so soon. As I came down from the car, I quickly saw her peering though the window. Her pale complexion and bloodshot eyes made her look like a ghost in contrast to the white curtains. I waved at her but she was quick to hide herself behind the curtains.
As expected, she forgot all about me.
Again.
Coincidentally, we went to the same school.
On the first day, I have seen her alone in the playground. She was screaming and crying because a black lady was haunting her. I ran towards her and tried to comfort her.
Soon, she trusted me and treated me as her bestfriend.
Her "buddy".
She is sweet, caring and thoughtful.
We were inseparable.
That was what I thought.
Puberty was awkward.
I have noticed that she was sitting farther away from me.
She started braiding her hair and putting tint on her lips. She began singing something in a foreign language.
Like, "saranghae"?
She blushed whenever I repeated that part of the song for her.
I wondered why.
I soon learned through my seatmate that in Korean language it meant, "I love you".
It was my turn to blush upon knowing the real meaning behind that foreign word. I could not look at her in the eyes the whole weekend we were together.
One sunny day, I caught her looking at her cellphone intently with that sweetest girlish smile. When I tried to peek, she just moved away from me.
"Let me see." I said.
"Uh-no! It's a girl thing. Leave me alone."
She was acting a bit crabby. Most of the time she would share anything with me. We had no secrets with each other.
"OK."
I pretended to leave her. She simply went back to what she was staring at. Quietly, I snuck at her back and grabbed her phone. She screamed at me like an angry cat.
"Give me my phone back!" she demanded.
"Chill. I just want to check..."
I looked at the pictures and to my dismay, they were boys with the whitest skin. They were from a boy band from South Korea.
And they were wearing makeup.
My heart broke.
I could not accept it.
My dearest Bianca likes boys who have porcelain skin and those wearing makeup!
I'm doomed.
I should have befriended some mermaids and vampires so that they can eradicate all boy bands for me.
Worse, she forced me to get a VIP ticket for their concert. She already had her ticket but she wanted me to come too. I suggested that I would just wait for her outside until the concert ends.
She never talked to me for days and never answered my calls. I could not bear it.
I decided to take my savings from my allowance and bought a ticket. But still, I had to explain to my adoptive father why I had to go to a concert like that.
He thought that I liked them too.
"Son, are you...into boy bands too?" he inquired with a nervous smile.
"No, Dad!" I was quick to deny.
"It is alright. As long as you are happy, we are happy."
My adoptive mother wept and said that even though she wanted to have grandchildren, she will accept me for who I am and she loves me unconditionally.
I, too, wanted to cry.
What were they thinking?
All I can say is...
I detest all boy bands with all my being.
They are stealing Bianca away from me.
We waited patiently for the concert to start. When they sang and danced, she went ecstatic. One of the band members raised his shirt up to his chest much to the pleasure of the female viewers.
That was vile.
If there were no CCTVs around and if it was not a bad thing to do, I could have thrown the bottle of water I'm holding to his face. I'm very sure I would not miss.
But, I remembered.
Female Behavior Lesson Number Two: Never mess up with a fangirl or else you are dead.
To my horror, I saw a teenage girl throw juice on her boyfriend's head. The latter called the band members "sissies", which, I strongly agree on. My bestfriend might bury me alive if I say anything against her oppas* so I opted to just keep quiet and behave on my seat.
(Oppa is a term of endearment for boys in Korea.)
Bianca reacted like she was going to have a seizure. I got bored with the concert. I just watched her scream and sing with them.
She is beautifully entertaining to watch.
After the concert, she asked me if I enjoyed it. I just smiled and opted not to answer as I do not want to disappoint her again. She took my arm and leaned on my shoulder.
"Thank you. You're my bestfriend forever."
I must say that the one hour torture of watching those "glutathione boys who sing" was all worth it. She seemed so satisfied with the concert.
One Sunday, I just woke up with a lot of text messages on my phone.
Girls could be so straightforward during this time. They scared me more. Some messages were not meant to be read by a thirteen year old boy.
"Are you free tonight?" Curly-haired and fair Girl A asked. "Dad is away."
"Want to see my stuff? Come on over." Girl B, the dusky beauty sent with a kiss.
"Have you already been circumcised*? Let me see. You are growing up so quick, Handsome." Pretty and hourglass-figured sender's identity from Junior High I choose not to reveal anymore. I almost dropped my phone on the floor because of her very personal question. It was traumatic.
(Filipinos have this belief that a boy grows up faster after being circumcised)
I showed Bianca the messages and she frowned.
"Must you show me the part of you being asked if you are already circumcised?" she angrily spat out with a blush on her cheeks.
"Oh, sorry. My mistake, This one." I showed her the sender who was asking for my social media account, which I do not have.
"Oh, that's why she and her peers cornered me and asked for your number." She pouted and crossed her arms around her.
"Should I answer them?"
"It's up to you. It would be better for you to hang out with those people." she stopped and looked intently at me. "I am just...not cool enough." she mumbled.
Then she turned her back and walked away from me. I followed her.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"No!"
Her eyes began to mist.
"Are you mad at me? Please tell me."
"Yesterday....was my birthday." she reminded me. "You forgot...me. I waited until midnight for you to greet me!"
Female Behavior 101: Lesson Number Three: Never forget a lady's birthday. If she happens to be your girlfriend or wife, always remember your anniversary.
"I'm so sorry. How can I make up to you?"
I blamed myself for not remembering her birthday. Yesterday, my adoptive grandparents visited our home and I got so busy with the household chores.
"Nothing!"
She quickly entered their house and slammed the door shut.
I thought that her anger will pass soon.
I was mistaken.
She started to avoid me all the time and just became more distant from me. It seemed like she was letting me go.
I dreaded this time to come.
Her world and time started rejecting my existence that I became too weak and ill.
As she did not need me anymore, I was just rightfully returned to where I belonged.
I woke up on my bed, at my father's house. My room looked just the same when I left it. The door slowly opened and my father entered with a broom and dustpan on hand. He stood motionlessly for a while and was too surprised to say anything.
"Antoine?" he called.
"Sir." I answered.
He ran to me and embraced me tightly, welcoming me back. Then, I felt holy water sprinkled on me.
"Father..." I muttered.
"Sorry, Son. I just want to make sure you are no evil." he apologized. "Let us celebrate!"
Upon my return, he became more laid back and kinder to me.
There were days that I would just wonder if she would summon me again. I would wake up at midnight to check if she would still visit me.
I have waited for years yet she never called for me. I would convince myself that she was alright and safe even without me by her side.
I could not help but ask if she already found a man to love and protect her. It is too painful for me to think but I do not want to be selfish. She has her own life to live.
I sincerely just wanted her to be happy.
Because...
I love her.
Je t'aime ma chère. Pour toujours.*
(French term for "I love you my dear. Forever.")