…faster to

Saturday Dance

Too tired to go to the Juan Luna lecture of Ambeth Ocampo, he and I rush to my godchild’s first birthday party.

The Goddess welcomes me, “Hey, you look good!”

I laugh, “Really? Lakas ng hangover ko kaya. I’m supposed to be shit-faced. Must be the stuff I’ve been using on my face. And you look great! Sexy mommy ah! Kayo pa rin ba ng tatay? Andiyan ba?”

The Goddess scoffs, “Andiyan pero di na! Dalawa na anak ko, naging tatlo. Irespeto naman paninidigan ko di ba?”

I laugh, “Tama! Oh di ba? Mga kailangan palakahin pa! Kailangan talaga mga nanay they can fuck and knock-up at di asawa eh!”

The Goddess laughs, “True!” then asks, “Kelan kasal?”

I laugh, “Kelangan pa ba? Itali ko rin sarili ko sa mga ganun na problema?”

And the Goddess laughs, “Gaga!”

Later, as we watched her and the party, I say to him, “Kaya ako bilib kay Goddess eh, working and being a mom na may pending graduate studies pa yan and a partner…nagpapalaki sa lahat pati sa partner…So fucking glad she didn’t marry and I don’t think I can do what they do.”

I sigh, “I don’t think I can do birthday parties and these.”

He comforts, “Just look at it this way: Can you imagine Jo being a wife and a mom?”

I ask, “Jo?”

He says, “Little Women.”

I laugh, “Little women? You’re telling me I’m Jo? Tangna Jo pa talaga eh!”

Not Little Women.
The Four Muses.
What had happened to us?

I asked the Pentacle, “Aren’t you coming to the party?”
The Pentacle replied, “Tuloy ba? Nyak, bored pa naman yun kids dito. Sayang!”
I asked, “Why do you sound sad?”
The Pentacle replied, “Argh! You know me too well!”
I answered, “Want us to come to you or you come to us? Let’s talk.”
The Pentacle promised, “Next week.”

The Goddess laughs as she presents my godchild for me to carry, “Oh, pa-cute na kay Ninang…Ay, ayaw!”

I laugh, “Sorry baby, absent kasi lagi si Ninang. Busy kuno. Yan tuloy, ayaw magpahawak. Di kilala si Ninang. Mamaya. Ligawan ko muna. Asan si Inchika?” looking around for her eldest girl.

Later, I dance cradling the baby as she pa-cutes (squints her eyes and smiles), “Goddess! Akin na to ha? Baby ko na ‘to, kasama nun mga pusa ko! Ano Baby, sama ka na sa ‘kin?”

The Goddess laughs, “Heh! Di yan toy!”

Remembering the first time I held a baby six years ago, in a baptism---

The Prophetess had simply said, “May kukunin lang ako sa kotse,” and deposited her baby in my stiff arms.

I called to her back, “Baka mahulog ko! Huy! Baka mabalian! Alam mong di ako marunong! Huy! Baby!”

Left, I smilingly whispered to the baby after my arms had softened to a cradle, “Your mom’s a brat but she knows stuff. And you love her, ok? She loves you and wag mong sagut-sagutin. Dami pinagdaanan yan for you. Kung alam mo lang. Di nga kaya ni Ninang pinagdaanan ng Mommy mo. Pag malaman kong sinasagot-sagot mo siya pag dalaga ka na, naku makakarinig ka sa ‘kin.”

During the baptism, all the godparents were silent when asked, “Do you renounce all that is bad…”

I whispered, “I think we’re supposed to say Yes.”

“Normative ethics,” someone scoffed.

We all sniggered and kept our silence.

---- I try to return my godchild to her Yaya but she holds out her hands back to me.

Her Yaya says, “Naku, hindi ‘to basta-basta sumasama.”

I laugh as I hold her again, “Tama. Dapat suplada ka baby, ha? Huwag sumama kung kani-kanino lang.”

The Goddess saw her wiping her French fries fingers on my top and laughingly scolds, “Baby! Di yan basahan si Ninang!”

I laugh, “It’s okay. Love ka ni Ninang,” and cuddle the baby closer.

Later, I return her to her Yaya and hug the Goddess goodbye, “Love you. Text pag may problema ha? Ingat lagi.”

My godchild is still looking at me, wanting to be carried.

I look away and force my hands to my sides.

To walk away from what I may not have.

It still stings.
I am older than all of you and I am still the Moon…
Too tired.

I mumble, “…snappy and I need a nap.”

He says, “Okay. You go nap while I do my errands. I’ll just come back for you when you’re done.”

I labor four flights of stairs for a nap.

He says upon seeing me, “Looks like you’ve had a rough week. Been standing and walking like a boy again, I see. Can’t pull that off with your hair now.”

I snap, “Whatever. You try climbing those stairs in these shoes. Please tell me I look like shit now.”

He laughs, “No, actually you look pretty good.”

I stamp my foot, “I’ve been aiming to look like shit! Goddamnit! What the hell do I have to do?! Ouch.”

He laughs once more, “Nothing. Yeah, keep on fighting it.”

I snap, “Would you prefer I just fuck those who make a play for me even if I don’t want them so that they would have their fucking answers and stop bugging me?!”

He holds up his hands and backs away, retreating into the bedroom.

Bristling, I then chatted with the Dama Dolls living with him. After, I went into the bedroom and told him, “You should take a shower again. You’re…woosh.”

“Okay,” he laughs and I was left alone for a nap. I woke to his covering me with the blanket. I mumble, “No, too hot.”

He whispers, “Just your feet then so that you don’t get sick. Go back to sleep.” He patted my back twice, moved away to play the music softer, returned carefully to sit not too close to me, in vigil…Then I heard dolls wailing.

I wake, “What is that… Are they fighting?”

He laughs, “That’s just them playing dama. Sorry.”

I close my eyes once more and he suddenly says, “Don’t. Don’t start thinking now that it’s not him. Not now.”

I whisper, “We’ve all changed…Would it be really so bad if it weren’t him?”

He says, “You’re equals. You really love each other. I have a feeling that he will formally ask soon and marriage will come for you…”

a wedding--
for a widow left
and come back as a ghost
for a wife left
and will come back as a ghost
for a love
for a life
a widow and a wife in love with a ghost
courted and seduced from a dead ghost
--to be a bride

I sleepily laugh, “The ripples…Basha, Aoux and I used to joke about that. The part where it is asked who objects. Just for the heck of it, they said, they would stand up and object. Crazy pranksters almost making me choke on my laughter…They’re required to wear a Barong. Scares the hell out of me--- the idea of someone actually standing up to object and even I would go Who the fuck?! You think that’s the cause of this vibe recently?”

He laughs, “You know why…Probably those wolves-sheep sensing that you will be off soon…”

I ask, “And you think marriage will stop them?”

He laughs, “Nope.”

I groan.

He asks, “How long…?”

I count, “What do you think?”

He laughs, “I knew it! That one…”

I snipe, “And what about you…?”

He says, “You know how it is, it only takes one look again and you know...”

I sigh, “…That’s why stay away nga kasi.”

He scolds, “Even you can’t fuck with Gibran! It directs your course.”

I answer, “Apparently.”

He asks, “Not looking for a fight, okay? But what was that you were wearing the other night?”

I ask, “Why do you ask?”

He answers, “I was being asked about how you especially looked last Tuesday. You do look good. And I said, Oh no, I don’t look at her below the chest.”

I laugh, “Not looking for a fight and you say that?! And the chest?! See? I’m also trying to lose my chest!”

He laughs, “Yep, almost gone, girl. At least you don’t have to bind them anymore the way you used to when I met you.”

I snap, “And who the hell among? As usual, no fucking idea who and what’s being messed with. Never mind. I really don’t want to know.”

We talk about the heart’s courtesy and he says, “One of the things that will really make me happy is to see you with your own child. I’m a ninong ha? Never mind who would dare to ask you for marriage.”

I laugh once more, “Or the father? That is if I ever get pregnant. But thanks. Yeah, so don’t you dare die…”

And he says, “You will have a child. Yeah…And now you’re in the best space in what you’re doing because you’re now just playing with the damn thing.”

I smile, “Came with a painful price. That comes with being back in the playground, too. So it’s play---”

thing
I laugh some more
landmines
To carve form
unto

“…my lack of grace,” I say.

He laughs, “That’s silly. But yeah, let’s go get your ass pinched again.”

I laugh, “No thanks!”

He and I told his Dama Dolls over dinner they cooked about the first and last time he took me out for dancing. Dolled up, I didn’t get to dance; I had yelped when I felt that pinch and then laughed after, “That funny man!”

He laughs, “You dealt with it.”

I laugh, “No, you coolly dealt with it. And I feel no need to embarrass. Just smile and make the person laugh about it. Then make it funny so everyone just laughs about it. No violence.”

He suddenly asks, “And what about that…?”

I laugh, “Imagine…Wow, damn I can actually talk a little about that nowadays just to some. You know…reminded me about that recently. But if you still need to I hear it’s easy to do that in Sulu… Why, do you have plans…? ”

He laughs, “No!”

Over drinks, we all talked about who had grace in dancing. The Dama Dolls said, “Justin Timberlake. And Britney Spears but she can’t even keep up with the dancers anymore. It’s sad…”

I laugh, With me it has always been Wowie De Guzman. And Michael Jackson.

I agree, “…Janet Jackson. I love her macho dance in Rhythm Nation.”

I laugh to the Dama Dolls, “In stilettos, I get heckled because I walk like a damn horse on staccato. The students used to say, Oh shit, Ma’am’s coming. Even Joey teases me when I would come down the stairs from the office.”

One Dama Doll said, “Here’s a tip for grace: try walking from end to end of a room. Fast, right? Try doing that slowly until it takes you 15 minutes, then 20…then an hour…”

And damn if you don’t acquire the beginning of grace by doing that in years, remembering how I used to practice walking without sound, to sneak.

As I am saying good-bye for the night, he says, “Here---”

he holds out his hand
and I trust it
to pull me
close without distance,
I soften
as he leads me
to let go
and I finally fly once more
into a spinning waltz
quick into a fast tango
in four-and-a-half-inch heels
on gin
to just dance
and reveal grace

I laugh and he lifts me from the ground into a hug.

I exhale a laugh, “Thank you!”

He laughs as he returns me to the ground, “Hiding it… Has always been about who can dance with you. Ikaw talaga,” and pats my head.

I laugh, remembering the last time I watched him move and that was six years ago.
Sitting.
On mojitos.
To drums.
He can dance but he doesn’t.
Men like him, like most of the men with me, don’t dance.
And those ladies he had danced with all laughed and flew.