Under My Skin Chap 1 p4

            “Hello, guess who?” he still isn’t using his normal voice when talking to her, or she wouldn’t recognize him easily. His voice is actually very masculine, but he talks to her as though there is a perennial grin on his face. Sappy, flirtatious.

“Hmmm…lemme guess…” They laugh. Of course, they both know she knows it is him on the phone. “You called?”

“Well…I wanted to volunteer.”

“What do you mean?” she herself isn’t using her normal voice. She sounds giddy.

“Sing you to sleep,” he laughs. “Mic please.”

“You’re really going to sing?” He sang to Olivia before, over the phone too. My Love is Here for You, by a local artist. He was still in college then, barely known each other.

They talk as though they haven’t deliberately ignored each other for months.

“Why, of course. Don’t you want me to?”

“Ha-ha, are you kidding? I’d love to hear that voice again. Miss it.” Why the heck is she being so candid? He is a bit silent.

“Shit, shouldn’t have said that,” she curses herself. Then she hears his voice again.

“Now here it comes, the hardest part of all. Unchain my heart that’s holding on. Guess I’m just learning, learning the art of letting go…say the word goodbye, but each time it catches in my throat, you’re still here in me and I can’t set you free. Maybe someday we’ll be friends forevermore–“

“Stop.” He sang the Art of Letting Go and it made her stomach churn, her chest tighten. His voice was cracking a bit but the talent was undeniable. His voice was like an afternoon rain on a hot day.

“Why?”

“I’m getting sadder.” She tried to downplay the emotion building between them.

“Awww. Me, too.” He follows suit. They were past that melodramatic phase of a year ago.

“You’re so fond of girly songs. Remember your old favorite? Shontelle’s T-Shirt?” Ha, ha, ha, they laugh.

“Newsflash! I’m gay!” he jokes. “What about I sing you a happy one?”

“That’d be nice.”

“Even nicer if I could sing it to you in person,” he chuckles.

“Ha-ha, then get your broom and fly off here in San Jose.” Cebu seems a million miles away.

“Oh I know. You make me smile like no else can…“ This song ends abruptly. He is really losing his voice.”You’re one of the few things worth remembering…” “You’re the one who makes me happy when everything else turns to grey…” He is singing randomly and she does not interrupt, although confused.

And before he excuses himself for a late dinner… “It’s hard to say, Liv, but goodbye.” He sings the words, merely added her name. It was, after all, a Celine Dion song. She hears the dial tone. Olivia Villojan gives an awkward smile, still clutching the phone to her ear. What the heck was that? Nathan…

No goodbye hugs. No dramatic walkouts. No last kiss to remember for a lifetime.

He leaves her with someone new singing to her his songs… Jonathan Trivilegio – the rainbow in her sky – is history.

Under My Skin Cells Chapter One p3

               “Just one more,” the driver assuages the scowling lady in front. She has been nagging him to rev up the engine. Really need to be home soon. She keeps looking at her watch strapped on her fat arm. Three people could fit in front, but she occupied space for two. And the bag on her lap was as huge as her. Not her fault at all. “Just one more,” repeats the driver with a tiny laugh. “Really…” she scowls and smiles. She is easily appeased. They know each other. Neighbors. The girl in the backseat barely heard them argue a while ago. She doesn’t care. Deep inside her mind, she remembers what happened two nights ago. She replays it again and again. She gulps, a tear almost formed.

                  “Hey, look,” the college boy notices the folder on the ground, almost under the vehicle. Only the tip of the portfolio can be seen from their seat. But he was staring at his shoes and he saw. She hardly pays him any attention, immersed in her private world. He flips the folder open and sees her yearbook picture. Oh, she doesn’t look thin at all in the picture. She is very thin now. He reads the name on the paper aloud. “Olivia Villojan…” 

This gets her full attention. “Oh, that’s mine.” He should’ve returned it the moment he realized it belonged to her.

“Oh, so sorry, found this below the tryc.”

“Ayee… Almost lost it again. Can I have it back?” He hands it back.

Again? She must be losing things all the time, he thinks

“Thank you,” she smiles.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He smiles. It’s nothing? You can do better than that, boy.

                     

             Seconds later, in the ensuing awkward silence between them, as if the lost-and-found folder incident now demands a conversation between them, a conversation she definitely is not going to initiate, a schoolgirl approaches the tryc. “Oh, sit here,” he transfers behind the driver who starts the engine. Got to be a gentleman. That’s it. See you, stranger. It wasn’t supposed to end that way. He feels as if he has just watched a romantic movie with a horror twist at the end. Two lovers destined to meet in a lost-and-found booth…they stare into each other’s eyes…they fall in love…a hideous chimaera successfully lures the boy into its lair by disguising as a lost little girl in her ripped plaid uniform. The girl escapes. Fin. Bummer. 

               Neither of them knew they would become very good friends one day, or more than that.

              “Finally.” The woman in front mutters.

         Two nights ago, Nathan, her bestest friend in the world, disappeared. For good. He did not die. Olivia did not agonize at the sight of him walking away from her, for he had physically left her a long, long time ago. 11 months ago, the last time she saw him? Two years ago, when he left the province to work in Cebu? Or had she lost him even before that?

             Two nights ago, he simply emptied her world of him. But he did say goodbye, this time. She wondered why he was so nice to her that night. He had called, which was nothing short of a miracle. She was ecstatic.

               She had text-messaged him something melancholic; it was a group message. “Sing me to sleep tonight… :’(” At past ten. He was awake and read it. Nathan called within seconds. She could hardly believe it…

Under My Skin Chapter One p.2

 November 18, 2010. San Jose, Antique, Philippines.

        She sits in the backseat of the tricycle waiting for more passengers to fill the vacancies. One in front, one beside her, and two behind the driver’s seat – actually, a motorcycle with a sidecar equals a tricycle, Antique’s motorized rickshaw. She eyes the pharmacy store near where the tricycles were queued. Watching people wait for their purchased medicine makes her yawn. Those pharmacy girls are pretty slow, she frowns. One day, their dilly-dallying just might cost a life. Uhum.

       She stares at her feet. Ugly feet, she thinks. She doesn’t like them at all, so she transfixes her gaze into space, thinking deep, looking at nothing in particular. My, I want to go home, she yawns again. She has forgotten the transparent folder with her transcript of records on her lap. It has her scanned yearbook picture, in a toga. She likes that picture, even with that very awkward smile. Long hair, and hardly gaunt-faced. Cheap lip gloss is very obvious though. PHP15.00. Everybody else had PHP350.00 make-up. Folder falls on the road with a thud.

         A boy, two, three years younger than her, occupies the seat beside her.  College, senior year. Not wearing his school uniform. He studies in the city, Iloilo. His eyes roam and lands on her face. Oooh-la-la, his man-brain thinks. He notices her eyes are locked onto something. Must be something, he thinks. He tries to search for what she’s looking at, just out of curiosity: the crazy woman (pregnant) eating pan de sal? The slow traffic easing nearby? The spicy-peanut vendor picking at her nose? the high school girls in their red skirts huddled outside the bread shop? Had she spotted her crush? But no good-looking dude her age was around.Well, except me, he thinks with a smile. He thinks she’s his age (22) or younger. She’s 24. He gives up, I think she’s lost in thought. And looks back at her. Stares at her. It’s the first time they’ve met. Or the first time he notices she exists; she hasn’t yet. Where have you been all this time? He catches himself thinking. A fleeting thought which makes him smile. He erases the smile for fear people might think he’s crazy and returns to his regular pouty look. She might catch him and think him a pervert so he looks down to check his Nike. He looks again at her. She feels his stare and raises an eyebrow at him? “Huh?” she mutters, barely audible. He shakes her head, and before he ll could say a word she looks away and yawns. He expected a scalding. Women, he noticed, hate unsolicited gawkings especially from the opposite gender. She’s nice, his first impression. Must know her name. Hi, I’m a stranger sitting beside you in this tricycle and if you don’t mind, can you tell me your name?  Real suave, Jose Mari Chan. “Uhh…” She doesn’t even hear his pathetic murmur. Back to his Nike. Or pretends she doesn’t notice the spell she has cast upon him.

Under My Skin Chapter One

            Love can be a dangerous thing for it unravels the dainty stitches that hold your heart together and neutralizes your senses without warning. It is a trespasser that digs a hole underneath the palisades that fortify the epicenter of your fragility. All those years of painstaking caution and/or offensive strategy (do unto others before they do unto you) becomes a thing of the past once you’ve met your match. There is no time to brace for the dawn offensive. The assault is swift: pain shocks you from nowhere and you realize a poisoned arrow had just zinged its way into your ribcage. Behold the bloodshed. Try to stop the bleeding, but you’re helpless for the first time. Suddenly, you identify with the carnage of hearts around the world. Suddenly, you’re on the other side, standing side by side with your lovesick comrades, immobile in front the firing squad of old flames. You’re not so smug anymore.

        Left and right you, one by one, they fall down, clambering for mercy, and many simply admit defeat in mute resignation. The question now, will you surrender? For a moment, your very tormenter is witness to your wretchedness. There is nothing more humiliating than loving a person who returns your devotion with indifference, cold stares, silence, and pity disguised in his white lies and alibis. There is nothing more humiliating than crying in front of that person. Come to think of it, we despise the ones who fall in love with us despite ourselves while we chase those who run away from the love we insist upon them, in despise. Why do we run away? Deep inside, we, too, despise ourselves knowing full well that we can never return the endearing affection they offer. Everyone wants to be loved back by the one he loves, simply human nature.

        When they persevere, the fools that they are, we are annoyed in love to them (but love different in their order slip). 

       She has experienced love at its highest, its turmoil, its delights, its enormity, even its wretchedness and shameless exploits. And in this case, her shameless exploits, all in the name of love. 

      She is but a nobody, or so she continually tells herself, but by happenstance, she feels love has put her on a pedestal. "Did I expect and desire this? I don't know. I don't know." She would ask herself often. These days, her answer is mostly I don't know, for a known know-it-all.

Seven

“We’ve been joined at the hip

at the first light of dawn,

bound tightly together as though

to detach is sure death.  Yet,

all unions face the test of time,

of kin, of rivals, of dull cynics.

And yes, we must admit,

the fools that we are at times,

we have been torn asunder.

But here we are today, unruffled,

still dreaming of tomorrow

without end or pause. Persistently,

our worlds collide.

Now I know there are no years,

no months, only now.

The past is a bittersweet memory

full of lessons,

not a record we must replay,

or leftovers we must reheat

for breakfast.

Yesterday is not to be ignored,

for yesterday I met you when

the fleeting thought that I

would marry this man passed by my mind.

Yesterday is full of tragedies

of our own doing, without doubt,

smearing today with so much

bitterness and how-could-yous.

There are no excuses

to turn to and save-face,

only we, ourselves, can salvage

the shattered promises and

wipe away the tears

that have dried on our cheeks.

We chose to stay even when

the gloom of dusk was blinding us.

It is only wise then that we let go

of all grudges and disappointments.

The beautiful days we have envisioned

on the first day garnished with innocence

when smiles touched our ears,

are still ours for the taking.

And this is my vow:

I cannot,

will not

love another man

as I love you now.

In your eyes, my fears dissolve.

In your arms, I have found my home.

And in my heart, here you lie alone.” 

~Dawn Rauto