On a Monday, I allowed him to glimpse his Leviathan.
So there was I skipping as Elena walked beside me while Joey trailed a few steps behind us towards 77 Café. It was almost midnight and I was skipping to the wedding march and would giggle when I paused to strike a silly pose.
Ten-ten-tenen-Little Miss
(Skip)Drink! (Skip) Drink! (Skip) Drink!
We just came from Club Filipino where you find the best rum coke in the city.
How many did I have before I switched to how many beers?
“No counting tonight, sweetie.”
Ten-ten-tenen-surfer pose…
(Skip) Drink! (Skip) Drink! (Skip) Drink!
On a Wednesday in
She laughed, “Nah, that’s your crutch. The way drinking is your crutch. It’s something that makes you pause…”
Ten-ten-teNEN-skip,skip,skip…
And last Saturday in Italianni’s Bonifacio High Street, Charles had said to Joey while we stuffed ourselves, “Mia won’t be Mia if she doesn’t drink or smoke or go to gigs when she has time or yadayadayada.”
To which I said, “I really don’t understand why girls don’t go for you!”
Drink! Drink! Drink!
Elena and Joey promised me a drinking-spree as soon as I was done with the dead and the lines. I wanted to drink until I reached alcohol poisoning once more--- which has been impossible to reach for the past six years, though I do try--- because it’s one of the few ways I could have eight-hour-sleep.
I laughed to Elena, “Do you know that when I was walking around KL alone I would find myself humming this? Minus the poses, of course. I have no idea why or why I hum that every time I walk alone.”
Then I started jumping in place as we stopped because we saw Hanky-Boyo with a girl.
Hanky-Boyo on a Friday in Club Dredd.
“Hey! I haven’t seen you in a while!”
I answered, “Hey! I was just in Big Sky last Friday for the Ang Bandang Shirley gig!”
“I was there yesterday.”
“Maybe we’ll see each other this Sunday.”
“Yeah, meet after I go to church!”
I laughed, “No shit you go to church nowadays!”
And Ms. M. Aguilar interrupted and laughed, “I didn’t even know that you go to church!”
Then Hanky-Boyo asked me, “And why are you here?”
“Papa Dom, man. It’s been six years.”
Summer 2002,
There I was all in black drinking
Scoobs had looked at me, worried.
I said, “Don’t worry, dude. Coming back.”
I left for a quick drive and came back a zombie.
Scoobs shook his head when he saw me, laughed, “Shit.”
So we sat there and listened to Tropical Depression…Ah, the sound… T-day had whispered to me when they paused, “Tang ina, tagos sa bungo!”
I nodded, dazed, transported to places and times.
After which I excused myself and went to the John-then-James-now and puked blue and green.
Scoobs had looked at me when I came back and shook his head once more.
Then I said, “Dude, let’s go home. I’m droned… You wanna see if you can drive tonight? Let’s do a crash course for you. Think of the car as a bump car.”
Scoobs scoffed, “Like you can’t drive droned.”
I said, “Right…Get your girlfriend to ride in Joey’s car when he gets here. If I kill you, that’s okay. If I kill her, man that will suck.”
Reaching the stoplight in
I screamed at the cab, “Can’t you see a lady is puking!”
Scoobs started laughing.
The cab honked angrily this time.
I said, “Ay putang inang ‘to!” and I struggled to unfasten my seatbelt and managed one foot out of the car when Scoobs hauled me back inside.
“Akong mapapaaway niyan eh. Green,” he said.
“Check.”
He asked, “Low-grade shit?”
I exhaled, “Yeah, low-grade shit.”
Later on as I parked in front of our Masikap apartment, I hurriedly stumbled out of the car to puke once more.
I kept on mumbling, “Jesus Christ…Fucking low-grade shit…”
Scoobs was pounding my back with his palm, “How many times did I tell you not to take anything that didn’t come from me! Alam nga natin na isa lang ang tine-take ng sistema mo eh!
I kept on heaving, “Yak… yak… yak…”
Summer 2008, before Tropical Depression played in Club Dredd.
I was heckling Kev, “Will you look at that: this is what you do with your ex-teachers. Yun mga teachers mo oh umiinom at nagtritrip samantalang ikaw yun estudyante nagbabantay and nagkakape.”
We looked at Sir Pao who was grooving to the music of Wicked Tarsiers. The night before, he was in a Death Metal mosh pit somewhere. “Ma’am,” Sir Pao said, “Okay lang?”
I laughed, “Tang ina kahit maghubad ka diyan ok lang! Ride it, pare! Si Kev naman Daddy-mode tonight eh.”
Then it was Papa Dom and Tropical Depression… Ah, the sound…still like floating naked in the warm afternoon sea after all these years, my skin against…Sir Pao said, “Ma’am, eto ang mga tagos sa bungo.”
I laughed, remembering T-day.
I closed my eyes, then this was in my head:
“Did you know he’s back?”
I said, “Of course. You people are not the only ones doing the watching. I just don’t know specifically when but I know he’s back.”
“He’s looking for you.”
I answered, “Like he doesn’t know where I am.”
“Will you agree to see him?”
I mocked, “What was it that he would say? Ish’Allah? Or something.”
I remember the last time I saw him, another lifetime:
He said, “He’s dead.”
“Wrong as long as I’m alive. And I’m not staying so leave me alone.”
And look at what happened, I almost--- I shook my head, going back to time in Club Dredd.
On that Monday, introductions were made.
“Helena?” the girl with Hanky-Boyo asked.
“No,” I laughed, “Elena.”
Outside 77 Café, I said to Hanky-Boyo as I was jumping and giggling, “You should try some of my shit.”
Hanky-Boyo said, “Oo nga eh! Mukhang okay what you’re on! Pahingi! Basta, you and me later! One drink!”
I laughed and shook my head: yeah, it’s life as holy fucking shit.
Later on inside 77 Joey was busy editing and Elena and I were talking and drinking. Now and then he would join the conversation then trail off to edit.
I said to Elena, “I’ll just finish my beer then we go?”
Hanky-Boyo passed by and said, “What are you drinking?”
I pointed to the beer.
“One drink then? My drink of choice. On me.”
I laughed, “Sure.”
Sleepy Elena decided to go ahead while she could still drive safely on vodka.
Joey kept on editing.
I was riding my buzz.
Hanky-Boyo then came with tequila and all its paraphernalia, knelt on the floor facing me, and asked, “So, how do you take it? Sip? Straight? Or body shots?”
Body shots?!?
In the corner, I saw Joey’s laptop shake.
I laughed with a nod, “Straight.”
He drawled, “So I guess I just might get lucky tonight.”
I laughed again, shaking my head.
“Or am I barking up the wrong tree?”
I laughed, “What do you mean?”
“Well, when you asked if my cousin was a lesbian…I thought you were interested…I mean, are you a lesbian? Bisexual? Straight?”
January 6 2007, 12:08 am Big Sky.
I had cleared books and files from my corner in the faculty room just several hours before and saw this hard-disk I used as a paperweight. Not mine and I-the-gizmo-idiot didn’t know if it still worked. So I called its gizmo-genius-owner, breezed through hi-hello-how-are-you and asked what I should do with it.
That? That’s not working anymore. Throw it away if you like, the owner said.
I had laughed: yeah, throw it away like I threw my fucking career.
And Pedicab was singing about drugs that night.
And the vocalist was dancing like a total geek that night.
And Basha shocked me into giggles because he was exchanging saliva with his date right in front of me for the first time in eight years that night.
And goddamn broken-hearted-Aoux who called me a cold-hearted-bitch and his types and thinking that Karen was gay so I just had to ask Hanky-Boyo if she was, that night.
Oh well.
I smiled primly at Hanky-Boyo, “I’ve tried girls of course but then again it’s really men for me. I prefer something really hard inside me.”
“Okay! Right tree then!”
I laughed, “It still depends on the tree. You see, this tree has a boyfriend and---” I pointed to Joey and Hanky Boyo looked, “--- he’s my boyfriend. Ten years.”
Joey looked up from the laptop and smiled at Hanky-Boyo.
And Hanky-Boyo jumped away from me and just went, “Oh my god! Shit! I’m sorry! Man, I’m sorry! I mean there you were and I was hitting on your girlfriend! Of ten years?? Really?? Ten years! All right, I’m just going to excuse myself and---”
I was laughing so much as I pulled the high chair, “Hey, it’s okay! C’mon, sit and let’s talk. Please.”
Hanky-Boyo mumbled, “Great, I get to sit on the high chair, like the kid…”
More laughter.
I asked, “You really didn’t know?” I called out to Doy who was by the bar (not to request that they play their Bagetsofonik album), “Doy! Hey, you knew that Joey and I are a couple, right?”
Doy laughed, “Yeah…I see you with him always.”
Hanky-Boyo began lamenting his bartender prowess to us because as bartenders they were supposed to be good at reading people. He went on about how he and they would wonder for the past eight years about me and whoever I was with and what we did while I was in Big Sky--- like studying, or checking papers, or working or writing or sketching and drinking while they played loud music and while I asked them sometimes to lower the volume.
2000 First Time in Big Sky
Ayn was inviting me to go to a poetry reading/gig there.
Joey was supposed to take us: I had made the appointment with him. I was ready to leave and was waiting in our Kalayaan apartment. I had been waiting. I finally stopped waiting because it was getting late and so I went to the Land Registration Authority in East Avenue--- where Joey and the rest of his team from Sisig-Goto-and-Vivingka were working on a project.
When I arrived, Joey said that he forgot and that he couldn’t go because he couldn’t leave therefore we couldn’t go and so I should go home, stay there and rot while waiting for him.
I had enough of that.
“Well, I’m going because no one’s going to take care of Ayn there and I miss her and I want to go.”
He gave me his car keys and said, “Take the car. Just let me know later if we’re still meeting…”
We had enough of fighting about his job.
We had enough of fighting about my leaving him.
I had just had about enough of understanding his job that was making him a miserable and snarly asshole, his anger, his punishing me for leaving him, and fighting about the three for about eight months already.
I left and called Basha and he answered with, “When did you get out of prison?”
I muttered, “Please, easy on the jibes. I’m hurting enough.”
“Sorry. What’s up?”
“Want to play chaperon?”
“Since when did you ever need one? Never mind. Joey?”
“Working late. As usual. I’m driving his car…”
“Where are you going?”
“Big Sky. I want to check it out. Taking Ayn there. She’ll likely get drunk and go around to talk to all these people and I’d be left alone. Take her home after when she’s had enough. Whatever makes her happy tonight. Look, I just don’t want to be alone to fend off passes from horny bastards the whole night, ok?”
He sighed, “All right. Pick me up here in Tito Larry’s.”
I exhaled, “Thank you.”
Hanky-Boyo said, “Hello? Bar di ba? Tapos ayun mga ginagawa mo. I’ve always thought you were single! Because---you---and I thought Joey was gay! Mia! I thought you were a faghag!”
Laughing, I sputtered, “What is a woman with a boyfriend supposed to look like? Joey, definitely not gay.”
Hanky-Boyo said, “Yeah! I mean, he’s with you!”
More talking, more face-saving, and more laughing because he was just really blundering through with, “Mia, I know Joey’s younger than you.”
Joey laughed, “Actually, I’m older by four years.”
Hanky-Boyo’s bartender skills were at its death throes. He said to Joey, “You’re one lucky bastard! Excuse me, I will stop putting my foot in my mouth and I will just go the bar because I still have a hard-on for your girlfriend! She keeps on touching me eh!”
We were all laughing.
I think Joey thanked him. Or maybe Joey smiled, the way he would smile a shrug whenever he heard “you’re a lucky bastard” in the past ten years. This was the first time he heard that though from someone who obviously made a pass.
When we said our goodbyes, I even gave a no-harm-done-peck on Hanky-Boyo’s cheek the way I would to anyone when I’m in the mood.
On the drive home, I asked Joey, “Now you see? Ten years of that kind of shit. Ah, but that was funny and he was harmless. He’s so Captain Jack!”
Joey laughed, “Yeah. Unbelievable!”
I laughed, “Yeah, you’re gay and I’m single…You’re young and I’m old…” then I wailed, “I’m a faghag!”
For two nights Joey was still laughing.
I asked, “How do you feel about being mistaken for gay?”
He laughed, “Doesn’t bother me. We know I’m not.”
I teased, “Yeah, you look like such a macho stud kasi eh!”
I added, “But really, is there a manual for how girlfriends or boyfriends should act? Like I even fucking care about those standards. And god save me from more people who think they got people all figured out.”
He said, “I would find out about these things when you write about them but I never really saw them.”
I said, “Beh, I didn’t allow you to see eh. What for, di ba?”
He laughed, “He would’ve have had a harpoon up his ass or through him. But he was just so funny. Can’t get mad at a guy like that.”
I smiled, “And?”
He said, “Your choice. You stopped it before it could go anywhere.”
I laughed, “There you go. You’re one cool cat…”
And then he proposed to take me out of the single market to make the world a simpler and better place for males and then he gently asked me to marry him with, “And Beh, I know you love him…but Kurt Cobain’s not coming back… You think you can marry me now?”
And I finally said yes because this proposal made sense and I really want to prevent more Hanky-Boyo-Experience and wear a sign in my forehead or a bling-bling that says “married/buried/yeah/ yeah/ yeah/ yeah.”
And so we told our happy families that Joey got me to get hitched and so Joey and I are getting married in Las Vegas when we visit Ma and Dad (while they take us to gamble there) by the end of the year.
Ten-ten-tenen…
1 comment:
congratulations :) he's a cool cat nga.
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