All About You

Eight

I t’s official. There’s no denying it.

Rafayel bought me a book. A book is practically a proposal when it comes to a reader like me. Ever since I met Rafayel at the start of the week, I’ve been withholding on telling Ria.

She’s equal parts my best friend, so she’s the one I go to immediately to debrief on anything new happening in my life.

I wanted to wait until I was certain about this crush on Rafayel before voicing it out loud to her, especially after the countless times I thought I liked someone after a few hours, only to get icked out by them the next day.

It’s been a while since we’d last gossiped over our personal lives, especially our love lives.

Of the two of us, she is the more grounded sibling, yanking me down to Earth whenever I tend to get comfortable in my delusions. Ria has never truly approved of any of my crushes. She felt I was too good for all of them, and I mean every single boy I’ve had a crush on.

“For someone who reads about dreamy boyfriends, you definitely know how to pick the worst ones out,” she told me once.

Ria, on the other hand, has never had a crush. She had no time for boys, or love in general if they weren’t fictional, or a celebrity. Sometimes I wonder what kind of person she’d fall for. She has a close friend, Xavier, who I used to tease her about relentlessly, but she assured me many times that they are just friends. Secretly, I still ship them.

Regardless, I imagine her future love would contrast the sometimes sporadic and chaotic energy she possesses. Someone more calm. Reserved. Once that day comes, I’ll be the first to make fun little video edits of them.

When Ria enters my room, she sits at the other end of the bed, dipping the mattress toward her.

“Spill.”

“Okay so, firstly, you have to promise not to tell our parents,” I say, only because it’s the first thing you say when you’re about to tell a secret. I know Ria would never tell.

Ria just nods, waving her hand in a hurry up motion.

I exhale deeply, upping the dramatics a bit. I’m a film student after all.

“So, here’s the thing. I’ve…met a boy,” I begin, and Ria perches in interest.

“At your film university? I knew that would be where you find the love of your life. If it wasn’t Marlon, of course,” Ria teases, and I slap her knee.

“Let’s not mention the M word right now, okay?” I shudder, like I’d walked through an iceberg or something, “And no, not at university. At this bookstore, right across from the building. I first met him on Monday when I accidentally knocked over a stack of books right onto him.”

“Wait, wait,” Ria holds up her hands, halting my words, “You met this boy just this week? And you didn’t tell me? ”

“Okay, I wanted to make sure I liked him first, you know,” I hold my hands up defensively, and she lifts a brow sceptically.

“But you just met him.”

I wave a hand dismissively, “We had a meet-cute so it counts.”

Ria sighs. She’s been subjected to a lot of my ‘meet-cute destiny’ talks.

“Anyways,” I continue, pushing her thigh, “I saw him first on Monday, and God was he charming. Then, I saw him again on Tuesday, and at that time it was only brief, but he walked up to me from the counter just to say hi. And then, I decided to bite the bullet, and see him again today, and oh my goodness Ria -’

I fall against the mattress with a sigh, allowing the giddiness of it all to consume me.

If this were a movie, there’d be a synthetic rise in the dreamy-pop background music, slowly crescendoing. Fandom accounts all around the globe would begin making ship edits about us. Pink hearts would be falling all around me.

Ria snaps her fingers above my face, and the sharp sound slashes straight through my dreamy veil.

“Do you even know his name?” Ria questions.

I sit up roughly, tilting my chin, as if to say please.

“Yes I do. His name is Rafayel and we talked today and he remembered me - and he bought me this book!”

I reach into the tote bag lying beside my bed, and pull out my copy of A Whisper of the Dark , waving it in front of her face. Upon seeing the title, Ria’s expression twists into a grimace that doesn’t surprise me. She knows the reputation of the book as I do.

“He bought you a book ?”

I slap my hand down on the cover of A Whisper of the Dark, grinning.

“He bought me a book ! Who even does that for someone who you’ve only met three times? I’m telling you, Ria, this is the story I’ve always been looking for.”

Ria glances at the novel with narrowed eyes.

“But he bought you A Whisper of the Dark. ”

“I know it’s not the best book but still, he bought it for me ,” my tone rises into a squeak as I grin, “Then he said he looks forward to seeing me again and isn’t this just the most perfect meet-cute development ever?”

Ria definitely doesn’t agree. Her eyes widen slowly, stricken with a hint of fear. Slowly, she raises her hands and waves it downward.

“ Oo -kay so what we are going to do is maybe relax,” she begins, “And come down to Earth with me. Like a lot.”

I lower A Whisper of the Dark onto my lap, my ballooning euphoria now losing its air.

“Yes it sounds cute, but you still don’t know the dude. He’s just a random stranger to me still, to you . So before you start using him as your muse for your screenplays or whatever -” I roll my eyes at her assumption, one that was bound to become true - “I need you to breathe and to let me be your anchor. I don’t want to see you get hurt again by another c-grade man.”

Rafayel was the furthest from being a c-grade man. Affectionately, I toss a small kirby plushie at her head which she swiftly dodges. I huff out, not wanting to admit she is right.

“Can you not be the smarter sibling right now,” I groan, and she grins at that, straightening her posture.

“I can’t help it, it’s all naturalè.”

“But you have to admit, doesn’t it all sound perfect?’

Ria sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips.

“It does sound straight out of a rom-com, I’ll give you that,” she admits, “But in the case that you guys do end up dating… you’re going to have to be careful.”

I wave her away, “Of course, I know all about being careful and not taking things too fast and whatever.”

“I’m not talking about you and this guy specifically. I’m talking about how Mum and the family will react. You do remember Marlon and Christine?”

I’d been so swept up in Rafayel and our potentially budding romance, that I forgot briefly about my crazy family and their own deluded ideas around Marlon and I’s non-existent romantic future. How could I even continue to pursue Rafayel when I was just awaiting my families’ prying eyes and hushed gossiping?

At that moment, Mum calls Ria and I downstairs before I even have a chance to somehow think of a quick solution for that. Sadly, there’s nothing easy about this at all.

Every fortnightly Friday, our family visits my Lola and Lolo on my Dad’s side for dinner. They’re about a half-hour drive away from us, further south, where buildings and industrial activity are more scarce, replaced instead by unending fields.

As we walk up their driveaway, the scent of Lolo Angelus’ cooking wafts through the open kitchen window, filling my nostrils and twisting my stomach torturously.

Dad knocks on the door, and in just a few counts we’re greeted by my Lola Alma.

“Darlings!” my Lola Alma exclaims cheerily.

When we step through, Ria and I mano Lola, before I bend down to plant a tender peck on her cheek.

“Come na, let’s eat!”

Lola leads us through the small hallway and toward the dining table, where a serving of rice already sits. As we settle ourselves, Lolo emerges from the kitchen door, an orange apron wrapped around his body.

“Kamusta na,” he greets, “The chicken asado will be done soon.”

I mentally cheer. In my mental pyramid of Favourite Filipino Foods, chicken asado would be in the second tier ranking. When he recedes back into the kitchen, Lola turns to us.

“So, ano'ng bago [9] ?”

I dip into a little recount of my first week at film school, and how all the lectures have been going so far. I tell her about Kiara and Diane, too, so she doesn’t worry about me having to make new friends. Lola nods along.

In the beginning, when both my grandparents found out about film school, they weren’t entirely enthusiastic about it. Traditionally, Filipinos are renowned for becoming nurses and doctors, but as someone who:

1. Never got above C in science

2. Has a slight tremble in my hand when I so much as try to hold a pencil

I’m definitely doing the medical field a favour by staying far away. Gratefully, Mum and Dad always supported me, wanting to break the cycle of these career expectations with Ria and I. Now, my grandparents are more accepting, though I still get the occasional comment about nursing. Oh well.

Lola’s attention turns to Ria once I’ve finished my recount, and she informs her all about the woes of starting Year 11, and the preparations she’s been undergoing for the upcoming HSC trial exams which aren’t even for another few months. Mum then updates Lola on work and how she’s reaching her 10th year at her company. Dad, on the other hand, gushes about his recent promotion to Financial Manager.

That’s when Lolo emerges again from the kitchen, and the moment my eyes fall on the bowl of chicken asado in his hands, my body buzzes in anticipation.

Before digging in, we all link hands and Lola leads the prayer over the food. Then, it’s every man for themselves.

From the first bite my stomach grumbles in agonising anticipation. The sweet, citrusy mix of the sauce melts on my tongue and I sigh. I can never grow tired of Lolo’s cooking. After a few bites, Lola dips into conversation with Mum and Dad in Tagalog, and I begin to get lost in some of the terms used. While I understand tidbits of Tagalog here and there, I still find myself struggling. Thankfully, my parents and relatives have never shamed me for being unfamiliar with their mother tongue.

Still, I don’t want to feel left out with my own family.

Lola and Mum begin to gush over Jonathan and Tita Bea, with Mum mentioning the upcoming impromptu engagement party this Sunday. She then places her utensils down and pulls out her phone, turning the screen toward Lola as she scrolls through the photos. Lola makes a sound of surprise, lips parting as she looks over at me.

“Is this you and Marlon, Lene?” she asks, pointing at the screen.

Mum’s cheeky smile says it all as she turns the phone. Of course, it’s the photo of Marlon and I at karaoke. I want to shrivel up and crumble right there and then. Embarrassment floods my cheeks. While Lola Alma and Lolo Angelus are less knowledgeable of the Marlon-Jaslene saga, they know enough to agree with everyone else. My lips twist, and I try to shape it into a smile and less of a grimace.

“Yes,” I state, levelling my tone so it doesn’t come out as a grumble.

Lola coos, clapping her hands together.

“Ang cute sa iyong both!” she enthuses. I resist the urge to faceplant and tell her that there is nothing cute about us at all.

In a more rational manner than my mental state felt, I say, “Thanks Lola, but we are not together. He’s just a -”

He’s a what, exactly? He isn’t a friend to me. He isn’t family. He’s someone who’s been a constant throughout my whole life against my will.

I wave away with my hands, and try to move on from the topic.

“He’s just Marlon. And I’m not really looking for a boyfriend right now. I’m too focused on film school.”

Which is, of course, a lie. They don’t need to know that Rafayel’s face just drifted across my thoughts. Lolo and Lola look pleased at my answer, nodding in approval.

“That’s good Lene. Boys always come second to studies.” I’m nodding along with them now, enthusiastically. Lola gets me! “Then, when you graduate, you can marry this Marlon.”

Nevermind.

Mum and my Lola both erupt into giggles as they slap each other over the table like teenagers. Ria nudges me, sparing an almost pitiful glance over her fork, but the hint of amusement in her eyes just negates it entirely.

Afterward, we settle into the living room. Lolo and Lola turn on the Filipino cable channel, and my parents watch alongside them, while Ria and I scroll mindlessly on social media. I wonder if there’s going to be another relationship hard launch on my feed.

Thankfully, it’s just business as usual.

A Bridgerton edit. A publishing house announcing a new novel. A new kpop dance challenge by a newly debuted girl group (I bookmark that one to learn later).

That’s when I get jumpscared by Marlon.

He’s one of the more semi-active posters, meaning he only pops up on my feed once or twice a month. This post is a photo of him holding a basketball, clearly sweaty from a game or practice, grinning into the camera with two other boys surrounding him. I study his face, and wonder what everyone around me seems to see in him.

Where a girl may find his dimpled smile, his brown curls and wide eyes cute, I just see the face of the demon who once turned off all the lights in the house to scare me.

That dimpled smile was one of malice to me, one of scheming and childish antics, yet to everyone else, it was one of an angel. I scroll away from the post, not bothering to like it.

When we’re back home, Ria and I slump on the downstairs couch.

Once my parents head upstairs, she turns to me and says, “Good luck with Rafayel sis. That’s really going to be a tough one to go for. And I’m not talking about actually winning his heart over.”

I prop myself upward, leaning against her shoulder in resignation.

“It’s not just Rafayel. What about my future boyfriends?”

“ Boyfriends as a plural sounds a bit ambitious, don’t you think?”

I nudge Ria, but it’s playful and we both chuckle.

“No, but really. How am I ever going to be able to bring a boy home, introduce them to the family without them secretly wishing I was with Marlon instead? And this goes for Marlon, too. How on Earth are we ever going to have normal love lives?”

The question hangs in the air, followed by no answers on both mine and Ria’s part. After a moment, Ria shrugs, clearly as clueless as I was.

She gets up, patting me on the knee.

“At this point, you’re gonna have to actually date him to get it over and done with.”

I mock-vomit, heaving over with exaggerated grunting noises.

“Um, yah no,” I state.

“Or at least make them think you’ve dated him or something,” Ria says, her voice dipping into laughter, “You know, like in To All The Boys, or Bridgerton .”

I shiver at the thought. I couldn’t even imagine myself pretending to be with Marlon. Also, what would that even achieve?

“This is hopeless,” I groan, pressing my forehead against the couch’s armrest.

Ria pats the top of my head.

“Well, you are the hopeless romantic in the family,” to that I grunt. Ria adds, “Don’t worry, you’ll figure something out.”

At that, she retracts her hand and heads upstairs, but I stay sitting on the couch a moment longer. Ria’s words play over and over in my head, marinating in my self-pity.

God, the thought of ever dating Marlon. The boy who would hog the controller whenever I wanted a turn on his new playstation. How could I ever be with a boy like that?

“How stupid,” I murmur to myself.

How can I ever possibly introduce anyone, let alone Rafayel to my family, when they’ll always be rooting for someone else?