by Tara Frejas
“Waiting for you,” Ramon finished her sentence for her. “I know.”
Erin stood up and went for the door, stopping before she could set one foot out. Ramon’s eyes were set on her when she turned around, lips slightly parted like he wanted to tell her something but couldn’t find the right words.
In reality, it was she who struggled for something to say.
“Good night, Ramon,” she managed to say instead.
He nodded. “Good night, Erin.”
Himig ng Pag-uwi
from Teatro Lakambini’s Hanggang Ulap | H. Cosculluela / J. Abueva
[ ARIES ]
Lumalamig mga araw at gabing wala ka
Sinta, ‘di ka pa ba magbabalik?
Puso’y nangangamba, nangungulila
Inaasam mga yakap mo’t halik
[ HANNAH ]
Mahal, pauwi ako sa iyong mga bisig
Batid kong puso mo’y nananabik
Puso’y umaasa, nananaginip
Mamasdan ka sa ‘king pagbabalik
Ipaglalaban ko
Ating mga pangarap
Kumapit ka, sinta
At umuwi sa ‘king yakap
Sandaling paghihintay
Na lang ang ating hinaharap
Kahit sandaang libong sandali’y
Kayang tiisin gaano man katagal
Sandali
Pakiusap ko sana’y huwag kang mapapagal
Halika, umuwi ka na’t
Ako’y maghihintay
Hindi ako papayag na
Sa iyo’y mawalay
Sakaling ‘di ako makita
Pagmulat ng iyong mata
Sinta, huwag kang mangangamba
Pagka’t habang umiikot ang mundo
Habang tumitibok ang puso
Nangangakong pag-ibig ko’y iyo
Habang umiikot ang mundo
Puso ko’y titibok para sa ‘yo
Iyong-iyo
[spoken ] Mahal kita, Hannah.
Mahal na mahal kita.
Maghihintay ako.
Ako ay pauwi na
Ika’y hinihintay
Nitong aking mga bisig
Mahal, sa iyong pag-ibig
Coming Home
English translation
[ ARIES ]
Days and nights without you grow colder
Darling, aren’t you coming back home?
My heart is getting anxious, I’m longing for you
Craving your kisses and being cradled in your arms
[ HANNAH ]
My love, I’m coming home to your embrace
I know that your heart is longing for me
My heart is hoping, my dream is this:
When I return, yours is the first face I will see
I will be fighting for
the dreams we’ve created
Hang in there, my darling
And come home to my embrace
A moment of waiting
Is all that separates us
I can endure
a hundred thousand moments
no matter how long they take
Moments
All I ask is that you don’t tire of waiting
Come, come home to me
I’ll be waiting for you
I won’t allow myself
to be parted from you
If you don’t see me when you open your eyes
My darling, don’t ever be afraid
Because as long as the world turns
As long as my heart beats
I promise that my love is yours
As long as the world turns
This heart will beat for you
All yours
[ spoken ] I love you, Hannah.
I love you so much.
I’ll be waiting for you.
These arms of mine
Are waiting for you to come home
To your love, my love
I’m coming back home
Twenty
Arms propped up on the dresser table, Ramon held his head in his hands and quietly berated himself for the stunt he pulled. But really, could anyone blame him for wanting to kiss Erin when she was sitting right next to him, looking into his eyes with such tenderness?
He swore his heart could dance to the music their voices made for a long, long time. How he wished the song could’ve lasted longer. Ramon knew he crossed a line, and now he would have to accept the consequences.
He would have to be ready to lose her.
He hadn’t even mustered enough courage to give Erin the letter he’d written. He carried it with him every day, but what use was it if it remained with him, never to be read by the person it was written for?
A knock on the door saved Ramon from spiraling down the black hole of misery he himself created. He looked up and saw Mark through the mirror in front of him. The stage manager stood by the door, tapping at his watch and saying he was closing the theatre soon.
“You okay, bro?” Mark asked when Ramon responded with a lukewarm “okay.”
“Yeah. Can I help with anything?”
“We do need an extra hand inside the theatre. Clearing scraps out and such.”
Ramon got up and gathered his things. “I’ll be right with you.”
The silence that followed fooled Ramon into thinking Mark had already left. He realized he was mistaken when he looked up again and found the stage manager still standing there.
“Bro—you know you can talk to me about things, right?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Not even that duet?”
Ramon stopped shoving things into his backpack. “What about it?”
“Just thought you and Erin sounded perfect together, is all.”
“Yeah, well.” Ramon mulled over it for a bit and shrugged. “I guess that’s the only instance we could possibly be perfect together.”
* * *
“Erin—hey, are you all right?”
Erin reached for the CD player in Pio’s car and turned the volume down. Way down. He had played an instrumental track of Himig ng Pag-uwi as they drove out of the Teatro Lakambini vicinity, and she was having a difficult time tuning out Ramon’s voice in her head. So much that she missed more than half of what Pio was telling her just now.
“I’m sorry, you were saying?”
“Never mind that. Let’s go grab some dinner,” Pio said, maneuvering the car to turn right at the next block. “You look like you need a little sustenance.”
Erin’s phone vibrated in her hand. She checked the screen and saw a message notification from Hiraya.
Did you head home, babe? I could swear I heard you singing backstage just now.
Just headed out with Pio. Need me for anything? she typed, and pressed send. The reply came quick. No, Hiraya said. Have fun, you two.
“Oh hey...” Pio began when they stopped at an intersection. “I wanted to tell you something earlier but I really didn’t know how to start. And I felt like there were just too many people around, so...”
Erin saw uncertainty in Pio’s smile when she looked at him. “What is it?”
“Uh—well. It’s about the photo you posted on Instagram.”
She furrowed her brows. “What photo? The one at rehearsal?”
“Yeah.”
“What about it?” she asked, recalling how she had to turn off her mobile data because notifications won’t stop coming after she posted that selfie of herself, Pio, and the rest of the Hanggang Ulap crew who managed to fit in the frame.
“Is it okay if I request that you don’t post a photo of us again for the meantime?” Pio asked, his face contorting into a cringe. “It’s just, I got a call from management...”
“Do you want me to delete it?”
“No, no—leave it. Deleting the photo makes it seem suspicious.”
Erin frowned. She knew Pio was only trying to manage his image, but there wasn’t anything implicating in that photo or the caption that read: Rehearsals again today. None of the c
omments were hostile either; most of those she read only asked questions about the show or expressed interest in it.
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry, Erin. I really don’t want to have to hide you—”
“I understand, Pio. It’s really okay.”
On any other day before today, perhaps Erin might have made a big deal out of this. She might have dragged the conversation a little further, or acted like a brat so Pio could woo her with bribes or sweet nothings. But she wasn’t in the mood for that today.
Something gnawed at her heart, and she needed to let it out before it consumed her.
“Pio, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think you can spare a show or two for Ramon?”
“What?”
“It’s just you’re doing all 20 shows without an alternate—and I was thinking...”
“Are you worried I won’t be able to do it?” Pio asked. The look of confusion on his face earlier was replaced with a smug little grin. “I know this is my first musical in two years, but I’ve been doing way more shows for AFFA and Alistair Productions before.”
“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head. “I mean, don’t you think Ramon deserves to be on that stage too? He has been working so hard, and...” Erin paused, thinking how Ramon would react to this—her, asking Pio to give him a show.
She closed her fist around her phone tightly. He probably wouldn’t like it.
“I get that, Erin. He’s a talented guy and all, but putting him in as an understudy was not up to me.”
“I know.” She let her shoulders drop as she let out a defeated sigh. Why she thought she could convince a theatre veteran to give way to an understudy was beyond her. It never happened to her when she herself was a rookie. She must be out of her mind.
Erin was ready to drop the conversation when Pio uttered something that didn’t sit well with her.
“What did you say?”
“...that Ramon didn’t fit the type they were looking for?”
“And what exactly is that type?” she asked, her tone turning up a notch. “This is a new show. You’re originating a new character. There shouldn’t be a certain type. Thinking that there should be is just outright discrimination.”
Pio was getting exasperated about this, Erin could tell by the way he clenched his jaw and drew out a heavy sigh before speaking again.
“Look, I don’t know what they did not see in Ramon, okay? Why are you getting upset with me?”
“Because you seem to think he’s not the type to be able to pull off what you can.”
Pio stopped the car in front of a convenience store, hands clutched tightly around the steering wheel. His lips formed a thin line, and Erin braced herself for what he was going to say next, knowing she struck a nerve.
“Do you like him?”
She was taken aback by the question. That wasn’t what she expected.
He turned to her. “Erin, do you like Ramon? Are you in love with him?”
“Ramon is my friend.” She felt something catch in her throat as the words spilled out of her lips. For some reason, she felt she just told Pio a lie. “And he’s been working so hard, I just want him to—”
Erin paused upon realizing Pio’s severe gaze had melted into something that resembled defeat.
“Do you know that every time we’re together, his name just casually pops up in our conversations? Every single time, Erin.” He shook his head. “I should’ve known then.”
“What are you talking about?” Her voice was breathy over the words. “I’m not…I don’t...”
I’m not in love with Ramon. I don’t like him that way, was what she wanted to say, if only to steer her heart to the right direction. But she had never encountered this much difficulty uttering such simple words before.
Because what if her heart was on to something, and she simply refused to admit it?
The general formula of romantic comedies and fairytales is simple: an attractive yet unattainable character inexplicably falls in love with someone seemingly unremarkable. In this particular story, Pio was the unattainable leading man, and she was the unremarkable actress from a theatre company that could barely survive without his family’s help.
In this fairytale, he was the prince who, for some odd reason, had set his eyes on a peasant girl...and logic states that she should be falling in love with him.
But this wasn’t a romantic comedy or a fairytale. Things weren’t supposed to happen according to a formula or a set of rules. And sometimes the heart is a silly, silly thing that defies all logic—fluttering over someone’s display of affection, but aching for someone else.
“I’m sorry, Pio. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“Wait, where are you going?” he asked when she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door.
“I need to clear my head. I’m really sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow...”
With that, Erin stepped out of the car, shut the door, and sprinted back to Teatro Lakambini.
* * *
As if stepping out of Pio’s car and sprinting back to the theatre building weren’t dramatic enough, it started to rain. Erin was barely a hundred meters away from Lakambini when it poured, but that didn’t keep her from getting drenched. Undeterred, she ran into the theatre lobby and straight to the dressing room where she saw Ramon last.
She didn’t know yet what she wanted to tell him or how she’d even begin, but she decided on the way she should clear the air between them no matter what. If she ended up making a fool of herself, at least she was honest.
Honest about what, exactly, when she didn’t know how to explain how she felt about him.
She heard Hiraya’s words in her head again: You like him.
Except Erin felt like like didn’t quite cut it.
“Ramon?” she called out when she reached the dressing room. It was empty, save for Ramon’s backpack and a couple of other things on the dresser table. Listless and out of breath, she reached for the nearest chair to sit on, knees about to give out from all the running she just did.
Scratch that. Her knees did give out and messed with her balance. As she came crashing down, Erin toppled over the chair where Ramon’s bag sat. Before she knew it, she was on the floor. So were his belongings that spilled out of his unzipped backpack.
Cursing under her breath, Erin picked up Ramon’s scripts, notes, and music sheets off the floor, trying her best to organize them before putting them back in place. As she did so, however, something peculiar caught her eye.
Dear Erin,
She thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Why would her name be on Ramon’s notes? But she saw the words “Dear Erin” clearly written on the top left corner of one page. And another. And another.
Against her better judgment, Erin skimmed through the pages and found they were a collection of unfinished drafts and signed letters, all addressed to her.
She got up on her feet, staring in disbelief at the words that bared Ramon’s heart, at letters that never reached her. Tight, painful knots rose up in her chest and lodged themselves in her throat, making it hard to breathe. Tears stung her eyes as she made sense of it all.
Ramon loved her.
Did she love him too?
“Erin? What are you—” Ramon’s words were cut short when she turned around to face him, hands trembling while holding his unsent letters. Color drained from his face when he realized she discovered his secret, but he allowed only a few seconds of silence between them before he crossed the threshold and picked up his bag from the floor.
Erin wanted to apologize, to tell him it had been an accident that she found these letters, that she didn’t mean to read them but was tempted anyway when she saw her name, but Ramon didn’t seem interested in hearing any of it. He set his bag on the dresser table and rummaged through it, later producing a rolled up shirt.
He handed it to her. “Wear this. You’re shivering.”
Indeed, she was. He
r senses were overpowered with so much emotion she didn’t even realize it until he pointed it out. Before she could respond, Ramon walked over to the air conditioning unit inside the room and shut it off.
“Hurry and change your clothes.” He made his way to the door. “You’re going to get sick.”
“I’m...sorry I read through your letters,” she squeaked.
Ramon’s grip tightened around the door knob. “Don’t be. They’re yours,” he said simply and closed the door on his way out.
Twenty-One
Erin looked so tiny in his blue Captain America shirt.
This thought was irrelevant to the thousands of things running in Ramon’s head right now, but there it was, anyway. He watched Erin, who sat beside him on the front steps of the theatre building, stare at her knees for a good long while. It was obvious they both didn’t know where to start.
“Thank you for letting me keep the letters. I’ll read all of them when I get home.”
He closed his eyes and allowed the lingering smell of rain to engulf his senses and calm him down. It was his fault they were having this conversation only now, but Ramon wasn’t about to leave any loose ends, even if it meant getting his heartbroken.
He wondered if she wanted to confront him about the kiss that never happened, but her disposition told him something else was bothering her.
“Why did you come back?”
When it took her a while to reply, he glanced at her and found Erin looking up at him, eyes sparkling with tears. She seemed so sad and lost, Ramon could only think of one thing.