Living away from my family gave me the independence I sought, but coming home to an empty apartment was lonely. Being in a city where my native language is shunned made me feel alienated. The fact that I worked at night when most people are asleep, made me feel like a ghost.
Until he moved in to the unit next to mine.
It was my off and I should be sleeping but it was too hot to sleep, thanks to the black-out. I dragged a chair outside to the veranda so I could pass time reading, hoping there would be some breeze at least. I was surprised to see him come out of his unit dragging a chair and holding a book in one hand. It made me smile.
I was surprised when he smiled back and said hello.
“Hi.” I answered. “Ang init, no?”
“Oo nga. Lagi ba nag-black out dito?”, he asked.
“Lately, yes. Bummer, since it’s summer.”
He smiled and placed his chair next to mine. “What are you reading?”
I showed him the book. It was The Little Prince, by Antoine St. Exupery.
“That’s a classic,” He said before showing me his. It was Robert Fulghum’s All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.
“Nice book.” I smiled.
“You’ve read it?” He asked as he sat next to me.
“Yes, countless times, actually. One of my favourites.”
“Mine, too.”
“It’s a nice read, light, funny. The kind that makes you pause and think, now, why didn’t I write such?”
He laughed, “Yeah, this book has that effect. So you write?”
“Used to, when I was in high school. What about you?”
“Same. Would you let me read your work?”
“Sure, if you let me read yours.”
We laughed and exchanged names. The books were forgotten as we launched into a conversation. I learned that he was from Manila and working in a call center like me. Like me, he doesn’t speak Visayan and spends most of his free time in his apartment.
—-
We shared so many things together, the love for coffee being one. After work, I would hurry home and he would be there at the veranda waiting for me. I would make coffee and we would have our morning talk. We usually stayed in my apartment, having breakfast and talking a mile a minute.
—
One night, my fiancé called and said he was forced to marry his ex-girlfriend. After the call, I went out to smoke. I was lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice him standing outside the door of his unit. He watched me silently as I smoked and tried to wipe away the tears.
“Why are you crying?”
I told him the story as I wiped the tears that wont stop falling. Anger, hurt, frustration. All these, I was able to pour out easily. The story ended as I threw away the cigarette butt. He pulled me close to him and hugged me tight. I tried to pull away. “Sorry, I’m such a crybaby.”
“Shhh. Dito ka lang sa chest ko. Cry all you want.”
And so I did.
—
We started by sitting across each other while having coffee. By June, the start of the rainy season, we were spending more time together in the mornings. One day, he sat next to me. Complained of a headache and I offered a massage. Without further ado, he placed his head on my lap and I started massaging his forehead. We didn’t talk. We were just there.
—-
That gesture was so natural, that we ended up doing it every day. Him with his head on my lap and I, running my fingers through his short hair, as we talked about the woes in working in the industry. Or how we miss Manila. Or how we couldn’t wait to go home.
One day, I pinched his nose then laughed. I was afraid he would got mad because he sat up suddenly. He held me by the shoulders and started showering my face with kisses. Playful kisses on my forehead, my nose, my cheeks. I couldn’t stop giggling, until he tried to kiss my lips. “Not the lips.” I whispered.
He didn’t say anything. He just hugged me.
—
I didn’t have work the night before and he was coming home late. It was almost past 10 when he arrived, and I was on my second cup of coffee. We hugged and kissed each other’s cheeks. I offered to make him coffee.
He took my mug. Looked for the lip mark and sipped. I giggled. “Uh.. that was like kissing my lips.”
“Because you wouldn’t let me kiss you on the lips. I’ll settle for the lip mark.”
That made me speechless. I stared at him. Oh to hell with my petty rules.
He leaned forward and we kissed.
“I love you.” He whispered.
“I love you, too.”
—
So it went on. Us spending mornings and more time together. Always hugging, kissing. When topics run out, which seldom happened, we would be content with just being together. Either hugging or with his head on my lap.
We kissed and exchanged I love yous but we never talked about ‘us’. Come to think of it, except for the time he saw me crying, we never talked about each other’s love life. So imagine my surprise when one day, he approached me and said “I can’t spend time with you this week. My girlfriend is coming over.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll miss you.”
The week went by so slowly. I spent more time at the office, because I didn’t want to go home and miss him. I didn’t have the right to be angry, we were not a couple. I kept telling myself that. But that didn’t stop me from being sad. I missed him. Terribly.
—
The ringing of my phone woke me up about four in the morning. It was him. He asked me to open the door. I got up, and let him in.
He hugged me tight, and then closed the door. He led me back to my room where he started kissing my lips. I missed him so much; I couldn’t help but kiss him back. I felt his kisses on my neck and my hands went to his waist. He stopped kissing me long enough to undress me. I helped him remove his shirt and he made me sit on the bed as he finished undressing.
He approached me and I sat on his lap. We started kissing while he fondled my breasts. I showered his face with kisses before I moved to his ear. I nibbled on his earlobe gently and he moaned. He then kissed my throat, and started tracing kisses down to my left nipple. He sucked it gently at first, then hungrily. His hand went to my right breast and started kneading it.
I moaned his name then started grinding my hips. Slowly, I rubbed my wetness against his hard cock. We kissed some more before he gently pushed me to lie down on the bed. I did and spread my legs wide to welcome him.
His cock slid inside my pussy, slowly. Very slowly. He pushed it deep inside that all I could feel was him. All I could think of was him. We hugged and he started pumping slowly. Every thrust was buried deep inside me.
I could feel the climax coming, and I held him tighter. Again and again I started calling his name…and he did mine.
—
The morning found us together in bed. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming, but our naked bodies and his peaceful breathing on my ear proved otherwise. As I lay next to him, with his arms around me, I searched for any guilt. I know I should be, didn’t his girlfriend just leave for Manila? I wasn’t.
I felt him stir and I took the chance to get up. I tried not to wake him up, but he opened his eyes the moment I stood up. “Where are you going?”
“Make coffee,” I replied.
“No, stay here. Stay with me.”
I went back to bed and he embraced me again. He had me place my head on his chest, my breasts pressing on his side. His leg was between mine. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. Sobra.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want her here.”
“Then why did you let her come?”
“She surprised me.”
“We shouldn’t have done this, Erik. You have a girlfriend.”
“I’m not happy with her.”
“Then why are you still together?”
He sighed. “Six years is hard to throw away. I tried to break up with her years ago but she asked me to stay. She tried to be better, but I’m not happy. “
I didn’t reply. He held me tighter. It didn’t make sense, but I didn’t push it. I didn’t want to seem clingy, or make him feel that I wanted him too much. I didn’t want him to see how the green eyed monster was taking over me.
—
I went back to Manila a couple of months after that incident. We remained in touch, though and agreed to meet up when he comes home for the holidays. The plan was to get away and spend time like we always did when we were in Cebu. Fucking included.
But, I guess, it was fate that stepped in. As the day of the meeting approached, my period came and he got sick. We did meet up, though and went somewhere private as planned.
We kissed, we hugged, we kissed some more. Then he placed his head on my lap and I stroked his head, as usual. He really wasn’t feeling well, I noticed that. He was coughing and felt cold. I told him to rest, to sleep. I hugged him and stroked his head until he fell asleep.
—
As he slept, I watched him. Who is this man, really? Why do I love him? And if he loves me, as he says he does, then why aren’t we together? Why is he someone else’s and not mine?
The chorus from a song from MYMP played as if on cue inside my head.
Loving is not owning
We can let it go
We can let it go.
Yes, loving is not owning.
—
Work and life got between us after that. The next time we bumped into each other, I saw him with a child, about 7 years old. His son.
I smiled at him and he smiled back. Occasionally, we would see each other as we go about our ways at work. I never asked who the kid is, but his Facebook account answered all my un-asked questions.
There was a reason why we loved each other.
There’s a reason why we can’t be together now.