"Son, please don't do anything stupid. She's not worth your time and affection," his mother's text message read. The constant vibrating of his beloved iPhone, the latest model, on the nightstand beside him woke him up that morning.
He lay on his king-sized bed, covered with a white cotton sheet, with a white comforter covering the lower half of his naked body. His smooth back was exposed.
On his chocolate-colored headboard, five egg-nog-colored baseball bats were placed against a black-painted wall. He used to be a varsity player back in high school and college, and he treasured sentimental objects that were important to him. It was his good friend, who happened to be an interior designer, who suggested framing the bats and using them as decoration in his bachelor pad.
He held his cell phone in his left hand, still trying to decide whether to go back to sleep or respond to her message.
The device vibrated again.
Mom's calling flashed on the screen.
He used his thumb to swipe the screen up to answer the call, holding the device to his left ear.
"Yes, Mom?" his voice was slightly hoarse and irritable.
"I've been calling you since this morning. You're not answering," his mother complained on the other end, her voice still shaking. "If you don't answer, your father and I will come to your house."
"Mom, I told you I'm okay," he replied wearily.
"I'm your mother. You can't just tell me not to worry about you anymore. I also sent Yaya Luring to your house, and she said she's been knocking on your door since this morning."
"Mom, I just need a little space for now. Can I have some peace?"
He was annoyed as he got up. His chiseled upper body, achieved through regular gym visits and proper diet, was exposed. He was only wearing black boxers, which he slept in. It was a wonder how he was able to undress himself the night before.
His head was still pounding. He was so drunk last night. After a short conversation with his mother last night, he drowned himself in alcohol.
His elegant room was a mess. Empty alcohol bottles littered the carpeted floor, and there was even a broken wine glass on the side. If he could remember it right, he threw it because of a sudden burst of emotion.
"What? You're going to ruin your life because of that girl?" his mother's voice filled with anger.
He knew the anger was not really directed at him.
"I never said anything about ruining myself because of...," he trailed off, unable to mention her name. His vision blurred, and his breathing became heavier. Something within him was about to explode. The image of a mestiza woman was etched in his mind.
How could she do this to me?
Where did I go wrong?
Many women chased after him, yet why did his life end up like this?
Modesty aside, he was a handsome man. He used to be a campus heartthrob. He had a good job and position in his parents' company. He could provide for his family well. At the young age of twenty-eight, he already had his own house and car.
His family background was also respectable. His parents were businesspeople and philanthropists. They raised him to be responsible and respectful to anyone, especially to women.
He couldn't remember cheating on any woman in his life.
He had four girlfriends, but not all at the same time. He was faithful to each of them. Three relationships just didn't work out. With the latest one, he thought it was the real deal. Everything was set. So how could it be that yesterday, on his wedding day, the bride just didn't show up?
"Good. It's better to be clear. She doesn't deserve you," his mother's words broke his thoughts. Her anger was taking over slowly.
"Mom, I'm okay. Just trust me on this one. I can handle it." His voice was firm. He wanted his mom to stop worrying about him. Yes, he was angry, but he had no plans to destroy himself.
Ekon Maximus Rodriguez was not like that. He was seething, yes. He had every right to do so.
Yesterday was his wedding day.
And the bride just did not appear.
I hate you, Melissa Mondragon.
Where did he throw that short letter on pink paper?
"I am sorry. I cannot do this," it said.
That was all the woman who he thought would be his world for the next few days of his life said to him.
All those prying eyes were on him on that very unfortunate day. He looked for his bride everywhere, but he couldn't find her. They didn't even break up. How could she be this unfair?
He held back the tears that were welling up in his eyes.
"Ekon, we're always here for you with your daddy."
He felt his mother's pain. Right now, even though he was feeling so much pain, he wanted to show his parents that he could rise up from the huge tragedy and shame that Melissa brought into their lives.
"Thanks, Mom. Tell Dad I'm okay."
"Okay, son. But let Yaya Luring be there for you. I just want to make sure someone will prepare the food for you. Yaya will be mad at you if you don't eat."
"Mom," he complained to his mother.
"She has no plans to disturb you. I just want to make sure someone will prepare the food for you. But if you really don't want to, I'll go there now."
Ekon closed his eyes tightly. He knew his mother's fussiness.
There were consecutive knocks on his door.
"Mom, I have to hang up. Yaya's outside my room."
"Okay, son. I love you."
"I love you too, Mom."
The knocking continued. He was starting to get annoyed with Yaya Luring. Maybe she was worried and thinking of all sorts of things.
He left his cell phone on the bed. He put on the white t-shirt hanging on the black leather sofa to his left. That was the shirt he took off last night.
He took big steps towards the door. The knocking didn't stop. He only slightly opened the door. He just wanted to ask Yaya Luring what she needed.
For now, he just wanted to lie down and ease the pain in his head.
A weak but sufficient force pushed the door open from the outside.
Ekon's eyes widened.
It wasn't Yaya Luring's aged face that greeted him, but a young mestizo boy who he estimated to be around five or six years old. The kid was wearing a red shirt with three-fourth sleeves and blue shorts.
Before he could even think, the little boy ran towards him.
"Daddy!" the boy shouted happily, hugging him around the waist.