We stay for a while in her grandfather's house. But she always has a plan. She booked a hotel for us before coming here and didn't really want to stay any longer in this mansion. Her grandfather calls me while she's in the shower.
I take a deep breath before knocking on the door; he asks me to come in and asks me to sit in his office while he's putting on his wig.
"What tea do you like?" He asks.
I thought he was going to ask about his granddaughter. Maybe I'm just getting ahead of his question.
"I… I don't really drink tea, sir." I say.
"Coffee?"
"I like Americano."
"Mmm… what's your job? What college you went?"
Now, that's what I'm talking about.
"Copywriting, sir. I'm a graduate of AB English, Major in Technical Writing."
He sits in his chair staring at me, judging me.
"What a useless job. Maybe if you stop seeing my granddaughter, she'll seek the help that she needs." He says.
He thinks that I'm the reason why she doesn't want to go to chemotherapy. She's the one who forced me to do a thing! WITHOUT MY WILL.
"Uh, sir, I think you're wrong." I say.
I scoot closer to him.
"You think that I'm wrong? Look, young man, don't play games with me. I don't like you, okay? She's wasting her time with you. If you truly love her, you're going to encourage her to seek a doctor instead of going on a vacation with her."
I can see where her personality came from. And he's thinking that I'm a bad guy here.
"I'm doing that, sir. I'm doing everything to encourage her." I assure him.
He's on the verge of tears and one thing's clear: he cares so much about her and she's just living her best life.
"Please make her go." The old man is begging me.
I don't know him and neither does her granddaughter.
"I'll try my best, sir."
She looks for me around the house, and when she sees me leaving the office of his grandfather, she rolls her eyes and sighs in disappointment.
"I hate when that man he does that." She swears, dragging me out.
"What do you mean?" I say.
Her grandfather leaves and kisses her forehead.
"Are you coming back?" he asks.
"Not a chance." She says.
She calls me and Henry, then we get inside the U-Haul van. The hotel is on a fancy beach. I remember one of her bucket lists includes skinny dipping. Maybe that's why she booked the resort.
She stops at the gate, looking from the outside looking in.
"What's the matter?" Henry asks.
"I thought you said no tourists?" she asks.
There are only a few tourists on the beach. She looks so uncomfortable looking at the people.
"Yes, ma'am, but most of the tourists asked for at least one more day." Henry explains.
"I told you to refund their payments!" she raises her voice.
"Your aunt didn't agree. That's why she let the others stay. Ma'am, they will only be here for 19 hours." Henry says.
This is a family-owned business. I thought she booked a place, though, if this is a family business, I doubt she booked rooms.
"Is she aware that I'm coming?" She asks Henry.
"No, ma'am." Henry replies.
"Then call her!" she yells.
She goes to the hotel receptionist.
"Where will I go?" I whisper.
Henry leaves as well to call her aunt. I follow her to the hotel lobby. She's yelling at the people, asking. A receptionist walks toward me holding an iced tea.
"Hey! Give him coffee, make it black!" she yells at the receptionist.
I'm holding my hand up in the air until the receptionist leaves me in fear, holding the iced tea for me. She returns her attention to the manager and continues arguing until her voice is on the loudspeaker, asking all the people to leave.
"I have an airborne critical illness, SO GET THE FUCK OUT HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO GET INFECTED!" she yells into the microphone.
People scamper all over the place getting to their room. The receptionist comes back with my black coffee.
"I'm sorry about this hassle." I say to her.
"Oh, no, it's actually our fault because we have forgotten to inform her aunt about her arrival." She says, worried.
"What have you mentioned?"
"One of her nieces is coming and wants a private vacation with her boyfriend."
I really can't believe that I'm a boyfriend and not a friend. As far as I remember, she was only looking for a friend, then she just decided that we were in an intimate relationship.
"I really have to go back; people are clustered for a refund." She says.
"T… thanks for the coffee."
She runs to me and snatches the coffee in my hand. Evilly, she watches the people leaving the hotel, making her happy.
"I saw you talking to Evelyn." She says.
"I thought you booked a hotel for us. You didn't say we're staying in your family's resort."
"You're not actually allowed to question me."
She's very different these days and I want to understand why. She's not making me understand who she really is. I already accept her not needing my help. She doesn't want my help, but at least she'll somehow make me understand her.
I ignore her, and I go to the room. The receptionist gave me the key. Maybe she's just tired, all she wants is to take a rest. The first thing I do is take a quick shower before going swimming on the beach. I'm not really too tired. Besides, I don't want to waste this vacation because of the mood swings of that one girl.
There are things she's hiding from me: her feelings, views and opinions, dreams, and history, but if I can put it easily, she's extrovert hiding the pain inside. She's letting her illness defy her; she's letting her illness be her entire personality. I want to change her—mold her to be who she really is and not what her illness making her. Seeing her grandfather beg me, open my eyes to the real problem on her.
She found me swimming in the ocean. Afterward, she sits on the shore under the tree reading a book. A staff drop by and says something to her and then she waves for me to follow her. We have a table ready by the sea with mouth-watery food. She's too silent, and that doesn't seem her.
"Let's have a game." She says.
I guess she got bored hiding in the room the entire morning.
"What game are you thinking?" I ask.
She points sky to the birds flying in the sky.
"What's that?" I ask.
"Birds."
"Is that the game?"
"If you're going to ask about my family or about me, I'll slap your face." She says.
Every day with her is unpredictable. She has the power to change the day and can change the mood.
"That's unfair. I can't slap you back!" I yell at her.
"You can do the same if I'll ask you about your family and about yourself."
"You never ask."
"Not my problem. I'm not just that interested in your family."
She's right. She took no interest in my family, while I'm too curious about her. A mystery to know her, interesting to understand her personality. Her manipulation is the only thing that I know about her.
"Hey!" she screams at me. "You went swimming! How dare you!"
Why, all of a sudden, does she act like this? She saw me swimming earlier.
"I thought you won't mind. Besides, you were hiding in your room!"
"You can't do that!"
"You brought me here, so what am I supposed to do?"
She stands and hits me in the head, then I act like it hurts to give her satisfaction.
"Let's meet here later at 6:00 pm, okay?" she stands.
"Hey!" I call after her. "What am I supposed to do?"
She turns and smiles. "Let's hike!"
"What? You can't do that!"
"I thought you read my bucket list?"
She hit me again in the head.
"Oh god, you only brought me here to murder me?" I say.
"You're likely to get murdered!" she screams. "Change your clothes. Meet me there."
She points to the other end. I can't see the trail from where I'm standing and I'm terrified of her health. I guess I have no choice but to follow her.
Thirty minutes have passed. She told me to prepare, but I didn't. Instead, I'm reading the book I'm currently reading, then the door blast open. Her face is fuming in madness.
"You promised!" she yells.
"Hiking will only get you killed." I explain.
She jolts toward me and began hitting my face. I'll get a brain hemorrhage if I'll stay long enough with her. She won't keep me alive, and that's for sure.
"Come on! Let's hike." She says sweetly.
Acting as if she didn't just hit me.
"I don't really have a choice, did I?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "You only have two minutes to prepare."
Welcome to my new life: no freedom to do what I want to do. My life depends on this girl's temper and mood, and I can't say 'no' to her.
She walks slower today. I'm not sure how long we can climb the mountain. She's weaker than she usually is. Based on what I notice, day by day, she's getting weaker. I want to help her, but she's becoming more and more stubborn. Walking to the trail takes longer. I want to hold her hand, but she keeps hitting me.
"I can walk!" she yells.
We began our hike; she began panting. Her breathing becomes shallow, and we only start our hike. This is hopeless, just making me feel pity for her. I want to support her, do things she wants to do, and achieve her goals. She's fearless and brave, and I do believe in her, but her body is growing weaker. Before we start our hike, I give her water first, making sure her breathing is fine. She's been quiet, which means some things are not right.
Heat is not kind to us. We began sweating so badly, but at least it's not raining. She's panting and coughing badly. I hide my worry, though she's letting me know to take a rest every five to seven minutes.
This is a beautiful and alive mountain. There are herbs, fruits, and edible plants. The trail is also easy to follow. I thought we were going to get lost because, looking from afar, it looks steep. There are solar lights on the side of the trail as well for night hikes. Our adventure continues as we take a left turn. I'm not scared to get lost, except I'm with a girl with a critical illness showing concerning signs; I'm not fine at all. She looks not good, wheezing and coughing, and often holds her chest.
"I'm sure there's a lake or ocean down there." She says in a hoarse voice.
"I think we need to get back." I say worriedly.
She shakes her head. Commitment is something someone can admire her. She's very dedicated even when it means death or being alive. No other person with a terminal illness will think of climbing a mountain, because it only means a suicide mission. If something will happen to her, I'd take the blame wholeheartedly. She stops in her track, kneeling on the ground coughing so badly. I run to her.
She shakes her head with her head low.
"Do you need any help?" I ask, even if it shows.
I feel so useless. She grabs something from her bag.
"Tu… tu… turn around." She says.
She doesn't look at me with respect; I turn around. I heard a crinkling sound of plastic, followed by a spit, then I heard a rustling sound of twigs and dry leaves. She grabs my shoulders.
"I'm fine. Don't worry about me." She says.
"Your grandfather, Henry, and your father will kill me if something happens to you." I say.
"Then no one will know. I'll assure you of that."
We continue our hike. Her cough is getting worse and her breathing is getting shallow.
Nature is one of my favorites. It's giving me a relaxing and freedom whenever I'm in the forest. There's something childish in me referring to nature as my freedom, but I couldn't enjoy this hike even though I always appreciate nature. Seeing her hurt feels like a powerful punch in my stomach. The pain is showing on her face as she's wincing while breathing. Everything in this place fades; the beauty, my freedom — it's just her and her pain alone. She races after me, walking to the steep, getting eaten into the bush. I got scared for her, then she turns back to me revealing a beautiful ocean. We're standing on the cliff. Below is a blue deep ocean, hitting the surface of the mountain.
"What a magnificent view." I say.
"This is so worth it." She pants.
"Very."
She sits on the big rock, catching her breath. She points to her bag. I take it and check what's inside: blanket, sandwich, and hot chocolate in a thermos bottle.
"Have you been here before?" I ask.
"No, but my cousins. They like this place a lot and I always envy them because I can only see this place in photos."
"We are here, and I'm so proud of you."
I take a lot of photos of her during the hike, and now that we're sitting on the picnic mat. She tearfully looks at me with her face glimmering in the light. God blessed today's weather since it looks like hiking is the only thing she wants to do today. I continue to study her face—she's worth my vacation.
"I'm so proud of myself!" she screams.
"I'm so proud of you!" I scream.
She stands, then throws her body to me, and together we laugh.
Between morally right and ethically wrong: I'm in this position right now. I let her climb a mountain for her happiness, but unethical in the eyes of others. Nonetheless, I'm determined to encourage her to do anything she pleases if it will make her this happy—it's priceless.
I let her sit on the rock whilst I'm preparing the picnic blanket for her. She's so cheerful, humming despite her cough. Afterward, I help her sit, and surprisingly, she let me. I offer her the sandwich and hot chocolate.
"I love having freedom like this!" she screams.
"I want to ask you a personal question. You're free to slap me."
She takes a small bite and then bit her head slowly.
"Why all of the sudden your attitude exchanges?" I ask.
I swallow the lump in my throat, waiting for her slap. She just looks at me sadly and then looks up at the sky. A breeze of air blanketed us. Swindle of faith and she didn't slap my face.
"This place always makes me feel fragile. Everyone is not letting me explore the place that… they won't let me do things I always want to do." She looks at me. "I'm an explorer, you know. If God loves me so damn much, He'd given me a strong healthy body…. To… to explore the world. I would be like you, perfect." She sighs.
"Why we're here, then? We can go to Zambales, or Baller, or Samar. Where you can have more freedom." I grin at her.
"I want here." She takes a deep breath. "I can feel mother in this place."
She takes a photo from her pock, showing it to me. A beautiful woman jumped in the mid-air. She was holding a red plastic cup wearing thick black sunglasses and a green swimsuit. Looking so happy with her mouth wide open.
"She looks like you: happy and carefree." I comment.
"That was my mom before she got HIV. A lot of people always say how I look like my mom."
"I don't know why, but I can see you in her."
"Grandfather used to say that to me." She says. "She was a lot better than I could ever be."
The photo was taken in this place, but it was in black and white. Perhaps this is the place where her mom was born. That's why we're here. According to her, she can feel her mother in this place, and that concludes my suspicion.
She lies on the ground, using her backpack as a pillow. I lay next to her, watching the clouds above.
"Tell me something nobody knows." She whispers.
"I never had sex before." I say.
She looks at me, astounded. "How come you dated someone before?"
"I had. You can be in a relationship without having sex."
"How many women have you dated?"
"Two."
"And none of them wanted to fuck you?"
I laugh. "In my defense, they wanted to sleep with me, okay? They stole kisses from me, took my clothes off in my sleep."
"If you're not gay, then why not sleep with them?" she sits looking at me, still bewilder.
I laugh again. "Is that a norm when you're in a relationship? You really have to have sex with your partner. And considered gay when you won't?"
"I guess. People like to assume two couples having sex… maybe imagining too."
"I don't really think sex is important and a must when you're in a relationship."
She scoffs. "Your morale is very different and I don't get it."
She's right. I know some people wouldn't understand my morals.
SEX. It's really simple, and every person knows that word.
Relationship. It's a very complicated word that has a lot of meanings.
"I agree with you." I say.
"Are you part of one person? Waiting after marriage before sex?"
"Not at all."
"Then what was the problem with your exes?"
"I thought it was wrong."
She laughs. Her breathing comes back to normal, and she looks relaxed. I close my eyes and appreciate the sounds. She shakes my legs before I can fall asleep. She beams at me, holding a violet notebook.
"What's that?" I ask groggily.
"Look!" she insists.
It's her bucket list. Next on the list is cliff diving.
I quickly sit, gawking at her. "I can't let you jump there! It looks dangerous!"
"Then reach for me!" she screams.
Running away from me. I fear for her, but she's so eager to run. The next seconds caught me on guard as she vanishes in the air. My heart skips a beat that I can't blink my eyes. Foolish of me for not reviewing her bucket list.
"Jack, are you coming? WHAT A WOWARD!" she screams, then laughs.
Just like what she did, I just loosely jump into the water, feeling the air enter my body, and fear vanishes, floating in the ocean. I rush back to the surface for the air.
She laughs at me and claps proudly. "You accomplish something!"
"Don't scare me like that ever again!" I yell at her.
She looks offended and swims away. I follow her to the shore.
"Did I say something to annoy you?" I yell.
"Yes!" she turns to me. "Will you stop that!"
"You've been telling me what to do, where to go, what to drink ever since we met! You're not my boss, you're not my mother! I only ask you once, and it's not even hard to do! But here you are acting a brat!" I scream back. "I feared you back there!"
She steps back toward me, crying. "You're the only person I've met who didn't act and feel obliged to help me. Let's stay that way, shall we?" she calmly says and walks away.
There's a boathouse on the island. My father used to sail when he was younger. He wanted to be a sailor, but my grandfather was against that's why he became a doctor instead. We used to sail in my early teens, and that's when I learn how to sail.
'RHEA' is painted on the boat.
She caught me looking at the boat.
"Mother was a sailor. She had a friend who died sailing, but that didn't make her stop sailing. I made her stop." She explains.
"Was the friend's name Rhea?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know how to sail?" I ask.
She scoffs. "No, I'm too ill to do that. My parents were always scared for me to do things that might cut my skin, too afraid of bruises or wounds. They were also afraid for me to go to crowded places for fear we might infect others."
"Is that why you always wear that?" I point to her jacket and jeans.
I walk closer to her and try to remove her jacket. She resists but then lets me take it off.
"Be confident in your body." I whisper. "I know you only wear this for the safety of people, but whenever we're alone, you can show your skin to me."
I look at her. She's skin and bones, pale but beautiful.
"You're so beautiful." I whisper.
She's just standing in front of me, perplexed. The first time, she doesn't know what to do or say. She had never been so honest with herself, and no one ever let her be honest. It looks like she wants to collapse and kiss me. She's too brave to resist because I can't for the next few seconds. I want to taste the sadness on her lips.
Please, look away before I can't stop myself and kiss you.
Rain hears my prayer. It decides for us because we can't make it for ourselves. She's too stunned to look away, and I'm too cowardly to kiss her. We start laughing and running to the boathouse.