At least Eric said goodbye.
The last time a Khazkatian left Kayla, she stood alone in the rain with not much of a farewell. Not a word, not a wave. It was just Alexander Edilfire across the road from her, an umbrella over his head, turning and walking away. The memory stuck to her clearly. Over the months that passed, she had learned to put it away in one of her many compartments. You know, the one where you store the unwanted memories, but kept them just the same, just in case you need reminding why your life sucked or why you hated the world? That compartment.
Anyway, Alex called Eric that night to give Kayla an alibi. Something about his brothers calling him back to Khazkatia to perform his obligations to the family, who, in turn, had obligations to the throne. As she knew so little of the closed country's customs and familial traditions, she accepted the alibi to be true and moved on.
But Eric, he didn't give any alibi for himself now, and it would be wrong to think that she'd be angry if he had the same one.
Despite the shallowness of her sleep, she dreamt about him. But it was neither playful visions nor sweet dreams that visited her. They were memories. Memories she wouldn't have compartmentalized, even if she tried. For Eric was a huge part of her. Eric had been with her through her four years of struggle to adjust in Manila and she just wasn't ready for readjustment now.
She couldn't tell if it was her or fate who had chosen what she'd dream of, for they were the best memories they'd had. Like when she taught him how to actually ride a bicycle and he looked as scared as a three-year-old. When he threw a party for her with one of her classes, just to congratulate her on a recital well-received by the public.
And that time he simply sat beside her in front of the TV, laughing and drinking beer. It was the same night he knew his father had died. He returned home the next day and wasn't able to go back to teaching for 6 months. He was mourning, and through it all, he kept Kayla in the dark with his emotions. When he returned, it was like nothing happened. That was just barely a year ago. He had adjusted well, Kayla would think so sometimes, but she doubted it. She knew he was still mourning.
Then there was the time they first met and Mr. Frey introduced them.
"I take it you wish to show him around, Ms. Montejo?"
There was a smile somewhere beneath Mr. Frey's authoritative voice when he said that, but Kayla ignored it. She was focused on the tall and handsome man in front of her, whom she swore she had seen somewhere before.
"Hi," he said, nodding at her.
She didn't answer. She simply nodded back and smiled when he finally did.
"Kayla. Would you like to show Eric around?" Mr. Frey leaned towards her ear for good measure this time.
She cleared her throat. "Of course," she replied, tossing her paperwork inside her drawer and moving around her desk to stand next to him.
Why wouldn't she? Her boss gave her the task and it seemed like a great opportunity to bask in the December morning sun.
"Don't go wandering too far now," he reminded them.
Although Kayla wondered if the reminder was for her. For in a split moment, she thought she saw Eric Marionette grin. And Mr. Frey smiled back.
Mr. Douglas Frey, a 48-year-old educator from nobody knows where, wasn't exactly the type to mingle with his team. Not that he was a snob. He wasn't a bad person. But he was the type to like keeping things in the right places, keeping them in order, doing it over and over until it became a habit and a norm. Sort of a man teaching the people around him the proper way to behave all the time. So it was exactly like him to remind them of little things.
He got hired 6 months before Eric did and 3 months later than Kayla, but he had taken a special spot in everyone's hearts. He was like a father to them and they followed in his footsteps when it came to their career and in "growing" up.
It was a short dawn – even with the many dreams she had. She would have returned and stayed in bed if not for Eric. He was already barging through her door at 5:48AM, approximately 3 hours after she fell asleep.
Rummaging through her closet, he said, "Wake up. We have a long journey ahead."
When she didn't move, hoping her dreams would catch her still, he walked over the foot of her bed and pulled down her blanket, exposing herself in her favorite purple pajamas. She mumbled a curse under her breath, but that was it. She didn't have that much energy to complain.
She turned over to her tummy and covered her head with a pillow. Eric was leaving anyway. Why should she bother getting up?
"Get up! Now!" was all she heard before she felt a pillow heavily graze her back.
"What the hell?" Kayla slowly sat from her bed, throwing the same pillow back to Eric.
He laughed.
She stared at him as he returned to her closet, pulling her clothes and throwing them on the floor. It was barely sunrise and all she could see was a silhouette of him in a cape and formal suit with boots.
"Get up. Pack your stuff. We're leaving in 2 hours," he said again, marching to her door and opening it for Mr. Frey.
"Mr. Frey, what are you doing here? And you, what are you doing here in a Superman suit?" she asked, wiping sleep off her eyes.
Eric looked at her, confused. "What are you talking about? Get up and take a shower. My people will take care of your stuff."
"Your people?" Kayla laughed.
Eric didn't have people. He was a one-man show. Almost always. He hated it when anyone he knew came to his rescue. He hated it, too, when one time, some people who owned a Caribbean restaurant mistook him for some named Ericson Van Laningham and started giving him gifts, serving him free desserts.
Mr. Frey whispered something to Eric's ear and he nodded. "Do it. Now."
At this, Mr. Frey nodded and left.
"He's not gonna be happy later on with the way you spoke to him," Kayla warned.
"For fuck's sakes, Kayla, get up!" He continued taking Kayla's clothes from her closet and dumping them on the floor, where three women in black and red tight dresses picked them up and stashed them into a black and red suitcase.
"Hey! Who the hell are you?" Kayla stood from her bed and blocked their path. This was her bedroom. The only place in Manila where she felt safe and completely at home. She didn't like the idea of people going about her business, touching her clothes and... "Wait, why are you taking my clothes?"
The women didn't speak. They went on with what they are doing.
"Hey!" Kayla inadvertently pushed one of them.
The woman, who seemed to be in her late twenties looked at her, nodded and smiled. There was no trace of offense nor was there remorse in her eyes as she backed off. She gave Kayla a low bow and walked out of Kayla's room.
"Calm down," Eric said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and pushed her against the wall, caving her in with his hands on either side of her head. "Listen to me, Kayla."
"Who are those people, Eric? And why are you taking my clothes?"
"Listen to me," he said once more.
Something was different about Eric. He was someone else. And though she felt the same comfort having him in a confined space, his eyes gave her a different story. A story she wanted to unravel.
"What's happening?" she asked, convinced that he wouldn't lie. He had never lied to her. And she knew he never would.
"I'll tell you on the way to my country. But we have to leave."
"Wait. Your country?" Her heart started drumming against her chest. Did she hear it right?
"You're coming with me."
"What? No!" She tried pushing him off her, as if suddenly free from a daze.
But he stood his ground, pinning her back to place. "We don't have much time. My brother hates it when people he expects are late."
"People he expects? You mean he's expecting me? Us?"
She could see no logical explanation. Had he offered her an alibi the night before, some kind of context as to why he was so down and was in so much of a hurry to leave, she wouldn't feel as panicky.
"Yes. You and some of our friends."
"What's going on, Eric? Why am I going with you? Who are those people?"
She could hear them rummaging through her stuff inside her bedroom. Even shattering what seemed to be a handy mirror.
"Hey!" she yelled from inside the bathroom.
"Calm down."
"How am I supposed to calm down? You won't tell me what's going on. And they're breaking my stuff!" she hissed and he placed a finger on her lips.
He released her and leaned his back against the counter, crossing his arms in front of him. He raked his hair with both his hands and breathed in deep. An indication that he was calming himself down. "My brother needs me home."
"Tell me something I do not know yet."
"He has a project for me. Our country will build this new arts school and we'll be in need of teachers." His eyes shone. If it was because of the rising sun or the glimmer of hope they seemed the share across the small bathroom, she couldn't tell. But he was happy about his news and she was beginning to be as well.
"So what do you say?" He took a step to her. And then he chuckled. "Well, actually, you are the only one in the team who didn't have a choice in the matter. I already decided for you."
"Eric... this is too sudden. I haven't called my mom. They are expecting me home. And my rent. My stuff."
"Frey is taking care of all those. Trust me. Just come with me. Please." Eric took both her hands and playfully shook them, as if to wake her up. "We're going to my country! Isn't that great?"
Kayla smiled a little, as if catching on, but she wanted to be sure. As he peered into her face, she chuckled with him. "Okay, so what am I supposed to do there?"
"I already told you. New school. New faculty?"
She couldn't deny the fact that she had been dying to go to his country since it announced its opening. She had asked and asked. But that was for a vacation. This was different. What he was offering now was a choice to start over. To rebuild a home like this one in Manila so she could, in turn, rebuild her family's home. And that entailed sacrifices, which she didn't know if she was ready to make.
"You mean like work for you? For how long?"
"A year. Two years? I don't know yet. At least try. The pay is huge. I know you need it."
She did. And yes, he had always known her dilemma. He used to tell her given the chance, he'd do everything in his power to help her. Not give her money, but help her turn things around. Bring her where she wouldn't have to worry too much about money anymore.
"Oh, you have no idea how I would love that. But can't you at least ask me a little more nicely?" she said, swaying her body like a little kid.
As if on cue, a glass shattering echoed inside her bedroom, and they heard Mr. Frey yell an apology. "My bad. I'll replace that."
They laughed.
Still holding both hands, he took another step to her. "Ms. Kayla Montejo, would you do me the honor of working for my country, Khazkatia, to help me and my brothers build the Marionette School of the New Arts?"
She smiled and curtsied, playing along. "Yes, I would love to."
"See, you already act like royalty. You'd fit in there just fine," he said.
A part of her wished it were real. That if she came to their country, she would play a different role. Be in a position where courtyards and curtsies, where hand-kissing and traditional sweet dancing, where multiple forks and palace guards would be a thing. Where she could relive the good life she knew when she was young.
Then again, whom was she kidding? She'd go there to work. And no amount of fantasy could change that.