by Tara Frejas
His Singapore gig was a good thing, a chance at a clean slate after failed attempts at a professional theatre career here in Manila. Deciding to take a shot at Teatro Lakambini’s most recent job opening and getting accepted was good thing number two.
Could Erin somehow be his third good thing?
“Okay. No ifs, no buts.” Ramon pointed at his reflection in the mirror. “You’re asking Erin out.”
Five
Erin’s first kiss was a guy named Timothy Matias.
She and Timothy—christened Mots by Kai—were both Teatro Lakambini rookies three years ago, and Chronicles of a Breakup was their baptism of fire. Even so, he wasn’t new to kissing.
Thankfully, Mots was considerate. He noticed her apprehension about the stage kiss and offered to fake it instead. But the scene had to be staged in a way that a fake kiss would have been so painfully obvious, and Erin just went “oh what the heck” and decided to go for gold. Mots obliged, and was nice enough to “mentor” her without being all judgey.
“Don’t pucker your lips” was his first tip. “Loosen your jaw” was his second. There were more, and they came in unexpected moments, like when they waited in the wings and he told her to “Press your lips against mine a bit harder before I push you away.”
It was an Act Two breakup kiss, what they shared. Erin’s character was desperate to keep his, but his just wasn’t into hers any longer. As they went through the scene five times a week for eight straight weeks, Erin felt as if her heart wasted away every single time she kissed Mots goodbye.
The feeling stayed with her for weeks after the show had closed that she had to ask him to sit down and talk about it one afternoon.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Sometimes I look at you and I can’t think straight.”
The look on his face prompted her to clarify. “I’m not in love with you, Mots. It’s just that I’ve been this character for a while and it’s difficult to get her out of my system.”
He got it, he said. They hugged it out, and that was that.
Five months later, she was kissing Andres San Vicente under a dim streetlight in Sa Kanto ng Kaimito at Santol. It was a more innocent kind of kiss, one that would reduce the females in the audience to squeals and giggles. Erin liked their once-a-show kisses better because they were hopeful and held the promise of a blossoming new love. And at the back of her mind, she allowed herself to fantasize over that kind of love too—until Andres brought his boyfriend to the cast party and crushed her dreams.
The distinction of sharing the most number of kisses with Erin goes to Brian Castro and Johann Rivera. Alternating as Erin’s long-distance boyfriends in Minsan Tayo, the average number of kisses she received per show was twenty, not including the ones that didn’t land on her lips. But even if Brian and Johann played the same character, their kisses were completely different.
Brian’s was playful and tentative half the time and tasted like Tic Tac. Johann’s was more intense and tended to linger a little more. They didn’t taste like anything remarkable, but Erin recalled the one time his lips tasted like ginger tea.
By the time she got to act alongside Nathan Zalameda for Karaoke Queen, the tables were turned: He was the novice, and she was the pro. Recalling every relevant moment in her kissing resume, Erin taught Nathan everything he needed to know.
And he was a fast learner. So fast, Erin actually found herself feeling flustered more than once.
Thinking about all those kisses made Erin feel a little dizzy. There were okay kisses, and there were kisses that, whether she liked to admit or not, completely rocked her world.
Is anyone going to measure up? she wondered. More importantly, is there anyone out there willing to?
* * *
Maybe she should stop thinking of kisses. At least for now, when there were more pressing concerns—like this hand snaking around her waist.
Erin didn’t mind physical contact so much, even if it’s with people she barely knew. After all, she took acting workshops that required her to be intimate with fellow actors she just met. It was all part of the trade. But this guy trying to grope her right now was not an actor, and she was definitely not in an acting workshop.
“C’mere, Erra—where are you going?”
Who the hell is Erra?
Warm breath that smelled of rum slithered down her neck, making her recoil. The man Erin was sort of flirting with in this party seemed to have let alcohol obliterate all traces of good-naturedness she liked in the first place. Oliver, the dog-lover who worked in advertising and used to play in a college band, was gone, replaced by this handsy fellow who slurred a name that wasn’t hers.
Her brother Aidan was right. Alcohol did turn men into disgusting predatory creatures.
“Let go of me.”
“Oh, come on… don’t play coy.”
“I’m not playing anything with you.” Erin began fishing for the phone inside her purse while Oliver insisted on holding her by the waist. She squirmed. “I’m going to ask you again—let me go.”
He flashed her a cheeky smile. What a waste, she thought. Of all the eligible bachelors in this cramped bar called Carbon, only Oliver got past the awkward “hi hello how about this place huh” chatter. Plus, he was cute and knew how to work his charm.
Erin also wanted to meet his French Bulldog, Jojo, but she decided to cut her losses tonight.
“Only if you give me a kiss.” He leaned in. She turned her face away.
“If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream.”
That sobered him up. Oliver let her go, allowing her to move away from him. A bunch of other people flirting with each other made it difficult for Erin to get to the door, though.
Phone now in hand, Erin was ready to hire an Uber until she saw that her frantic bag digging made her accidentally dial a number. Ramon’s.
“Hello?”
“Erin, is everything all right?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I dialed your number by accident.”
“Okay. There was a lot of noise so…”
“Yeah—I’m at a bar, actually. But I’m headed home now,” she said, squeezing herself through the crowd. “’Scuse me. Thank you.”
“Are you with somebody?”
“Yeah, Kai is—”
Where is Kai? It was Kai’s idea to drag her to this party, but when her blue-haired friend didn’t return to their table after striking up a conversation with a guy at the bar…
“—yeah, I think she met someone.”
“Will you be okay?”
“Of course, don’t worry. I’m not even drunk or anyth—” Her words were cut short by a scream. Her scream. The bloody murder kind.
Because Oliver apparently went after her and tried to keep her from leaving. By grabbing her breast, no less.
Everything seemed to happen very quickly after that. She swung her purse and hit Oliver’s face. He retaliated with a slap which she dodged. Before he could swing his arm to try hitting her one more time, someone punched the lights out of him.
* * *
Erin watched Pio Alvez pace back and forth in front of her, phone pressed to his ear, speaking to someone she supposed was his handler. News about him punching some guy in a bar in Ortigas had spread fast through social media, and his management called to get his side of the story so they could do damage control.
“Are you okay?” she asked when he sat across from her after the call. At this point, she couldn’t decide which was more surreal: Pio Alvez appearing out of nowhere and “rescuing” her from Oliver, or him being this near. She only ever saw him on stage, and more recently, on billboards along EDSA.
He let out a soft laugh. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”
As it turned out, Pio came to Carbon that night for a round of drinks with a friend who co-owned the bar. Both he and Erin were allowed access to the staff room following the incident, shielding them from the public for the meantime.
“I’ll be all right. I’m just waiting for my
friend to pick me up.”
Ramon had heard everything, much to Erin’s horror. She thought she had ended the call during the commotion, but realized she hadn’t when his distressed voice came through. What happened? Where are you? Are you okay? ERIN?
I’ll come pick you up, he told her. Tell me where you are.
She couldn’t find it in her heart to say no. Besides, she also needed a friend to talk to.
“I’ll keep you company until your friend arrives,” Pio offered.
“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to. I’ve already caused you a lot of trouble…I’m so sorry.”
“Nah. The only person who should be apologizing is that motherf—” Pio checked himself and cleared his throat. “I mean, don’t worry about it. Things will clear up in a couple of days, you’ll see. Then again, any publicity is still publicity.”
Erin managed a faint smile.
“I was kidding,” Pio clarified. “I’m not happy about this either, but what’s done is done.”
“Sorry.”
“Stop. If anything, you did me a favor. I’ve been wanting to punch something lately.”
“What?”
“Still kidding.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Thanks for the assist back there, by the way.”
“No biggie.”
She offered him a handshake, suddenly remembering that she hadn’t properly introduced herself to him. “I’m Erin.”
Pio stared at her for a good three seconds and let out a soft laugh. “Of course I know who you are, Erin Javier,” he said and took her hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”
She blinked. Of course. The theatre industry was a small one after all. People knew people. But she supposed Pio didn’t know her as much as she knew him. He was an Alvez kid, and that basically meant two things: talent ran through your veins, and you’ve got the influence and connections to back you up.
And it wasn’t simply a theory, either. As a child, Erin enjoyed watching young Pio perform at the Cultural Center when school field trips required them to see stage productions. Even at an early age, the youngest son of local theatre icons Geronimo Alvez and Cecilia Sevilla, showed a lot of promise. He was trained under the best mentors in the theatre industry, appearing in plays and musicals until he was well into his teenage years. That was when film directors began to take notice.
Erin thought it was only natural that they did. Pio had that mestizo, simpatico, boy-next-door look that girls totally fall for. His extensive background in the performing arts gave him an advantage as well. It was no wonder he rose to fame so quickly.
“It’s nice to meet y—” Erin paused upon seeing the ugly bruising on Pio’s knuckles. “Oh no, your hand…”
“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled and pulled his hand away. “I’ve had way worse injuries doing prod.”
Still, Erin couldn’t help but feel sorry. If only she could get some antiseptic and band-aids…
“Your friend said we could exit through the back door, right?” she asked, glancing at the exit. On the way here, she remembered seeing a nearby 7-11. Surely they’d have something for first aid.
“Yes. Why?”
Erin got up. “Wait for me here, would you?”
Pio looked a bit confused but agreed anyway.
“I’ll be right back.”
Six
It took all of Ramon’s willpower not to hold Erin tight when he was ushered into Carbon’s staff room and finally saw her. She was sitting with a guy who seemed familiar, but whose name he couldn’t be bothered to remember.
Questions flooded his head as he approached them. Was she really okay? Was she only putting up a brave front because she didn’t want anyone to worry? Did she get hurt anywhere? Did she want to get checked at a hospital or file a complaint at the nearest precinct?
The smile that appeared on Erin’s face upon seeing him chased all other thoughts away. “Ramon!” she called out in her usual sweet voice. She waved something in the air, something covered in foil or plastic. She didn’t seem traumatized or shaken. He took it as a good sign.
He stopped at their table and said hello, his gaze flitting between Erin and…wait, was this Pio Alvez?
“Hi.”
It was Pio Alvez. What was he doing here?
Erin got up from her chair and held on to Ramon’s arms. He flinched at the cold.
“Oh, sorry. I was icing Pio’s knuckles,” she said and withdrew her hands. Only then did Ramon notice Pio’s bruised right hand resting on the table with a couple of foil-covered ice cream bars and a brown paper bag he suspected contained first-aid supplies.
“Do you want me to get you something to drink? For the trouble.”
Ramon looked at Erin’s face, checking for cuts or bruises. There were none.
He shook his head. “I’m here to take you home,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
* * *
On the way home, Erin asked to be driven thru a McDonald’s. Ramon obliged, feeling the need to scarf something down too. Who knew worrying over someone made you hungry?
They both ordered a Big Mac meal, large everything. He wasn’t surprised. If anything, he was comforted by the fact that she still had the appetite to eat despite the night’s mishap.
She told him she’ll hold his Coke for him as he drove, feed him fries and all that. While he didn’t mind waiting until he got home before having some food, he didn’t want to turn the offer down either. And so he minded the road while Erin took care of his provisions every few minutes, or every time they stopped at a red light.
For a while, their conversation meandered aimlessly through several topics, one of them being the surprise party Kai proposed they organize for Jericho and Hiraya. Ramon said he volunteered to cook some food, and Erin excitedly replied, “Ooh, I can be your sous chef!”
“But that means I have to let you in my house.”
“What’s so bad about that?”
“I’m very conservative.”
“LIES!”
They got a good laugh out of that, but when the laughter died down, Ramon ventured to ask what exactly happened to her back at the bar. He didn’t expect her to answer in detail, but she did.
Kai invited her to this party, she said. She met this guy who seemed interesting and nice. Erin told him everything, down to the number of glasses said guy drank before he totally lost it. Ramon’s hands tightened against the wheel when she told him Oliver started getting handsy.
“Coke,” he said, feeling the need to sip something cold. Erin held the large cup near his face and he sipped on the drink while she continued with her story.
“…and then he had the gall to grab my boob!”
From the corner of his eye, Ramon saw Erin touch her breast with her free hand. For emphasis, maybe. He choked, then sputtered Coke all over the wheel, the dashboard, his pants…
“Oh my god! Are you okay?” Erin put the cup down the console and pulled some paper napkins out of the take-out bag.
Pulling over by the side of the road to gather his bearings, he took the paper napkins Erin handed over and wiped his face with it. He coughed, sniffed. The drink had made its way up his nose too.
“I’m sorry,” Erin said, hastily wiping the dashboard and the wheel. “Did I accidentally push the straw up your throat or something?”
“No. I just suck at multi-tasking.” He switched on the light so he could examine the extent of the “damage.” After all, this was only a borrowed car.
“Oh no, it got all over your shirt. And your pants too.”
“It’s fine.”
“Please don’t be mad at me.”
He shook his head. “I’m not.”
“Okay.” She crumpled the used tissue in her hand and dropped it inside one of the empty take-out bags. “I can’t help but feel I inconvenienced you tonight. I’m really sorry. That call was—”
“—a good thing,” Ramon finished, looking straight at her. “Accident or not, I’m glad you made that call.”
Erin pursed her lips and didn’t say anything for a while. He didn’t either, distracted by the tears that sparkled in her eyes.
Finally, a soft click broke the silence between them. Erin had unbuckled her seatbelt and proceeded to lean over the console to hug him.
“Thank you, Ramon.” Her delicate whisper of a voice was punctuated with a sob. “This was a stupid idea all along.”
“Hush. It’s not stupid.”
“It is.” She pulled away from his embrace and wiped her tears away. “You step into a cramped space and flirt with strangers over fancy drinks, talk about superficial things like where you work or what you like to do in your spare time—and half the time you can’t even hear each other because of the loud music.”
Erin laughed as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for this kind of audition.”
Unable to articulate the mess of words in his head, Ramon stayed quiet and let Erin talk. Sometimes, having someone who listened was enough, wasn’t it?
* * *
It was two in the morning when Ramon returned to his apartment unit, a one-bedroom affair which, up until recently, was being leased to random bedspacers. Tita Belinda, his mother’s unmarried younger sister, owned the place and left it vacant upon learning Ramon was coming home for good. She didn’t charge rent. Her only condition was that he paid for the utilities and maintained the cleanliness of the place.
“Anything for my favorite pamangkin,” she said. She even loaned him a spare car he could use to get around whenever he wanted.
That car needed some cleaning in the morning, he thought. He padded into his room, took his Coke-stained shirt off and tossed it to the hamper before letting himself collapse face down on the bed.
He closed his eyes and tried to push away the lingering sound of Erin’s sobbing in his head. Anger still simmered in his chest even though he spent the last half hour driving around their neighborhood. He even considered driving back to the bar strip to look for whatshisface, stopping himself only when he remembered he had no idea what the bastard looked like.