All About You

Twenty

I have my own plans on Saturday.

Even if Marlon had asked if he wanted to hang out, I wouldn’t have even accepted. So, no , it doesn’t matter to me that he’s out with Christine right now. It’s good, really, that he is. Natural.

The sooner they’re back together again, and the sooner I’m with Rafayel, the sooner he and I can put an end to this ruse, and just be normal friends.

I repeat that to myself like a mantra. Today, I’m happy to be spending time with my family. A part of me is relieved by it.

We’d planned to visit a flea market that happens on the first Saturday of every month.

“What’s Marlon doing today?” Dad asks as we all pull ourselves into the car.

“Studying,” I answer, simply.

The image of Marlon and Christine, laughing together, at a fancy restaurant somewhere, crosses my mind.

Of them falling for each other again. My heart protests at the image, and I push it away.

Instead, I check my phone to see whether Rafayel has responded to my text from this morning, the one I sent before my family left the house. I’d asked him what he was up to today, whether he had any plans.

Though, when I open our messages, only mine stares back at me. No reply yet. I pocket my phone back into my tote bag, ignoring my disappointment.

Over the week we’ve been texting, I’ve noticed a pattern in his slow replies, unlike the first night, when we stayed up all night talking.

Relax. He’s busy. He has a life.

And mine should not revolve around a text reply.

Ria must sense my aura, because she turns her head to me.

“Stop doing that,” she says, and I narrow my eyes.

“Doing what?”

“Waiting for you know ,” she lowers her voice a little, so our parents don’t hear, though I doubt that they could, even if her voice was louder.

Dad brought along the Hamilton soundtrack for the trip today, and it always distracts my parents from Ria and I’s backseat conversations.

The ending of Take A Break drifts through, and Ria sings along with Eliza and Angelica, as they both beg for Hamilton to take a break. She widens her eyes as she sings the lines ‘take a break’, while staring at me. I perk a brow in amusement, shaking my head.

As Say No To This begins to play, and Maria Reynolds jumps into the scene, Mum throws her head back to sing along, with my Dad accompanying her as Hamilton.

“You do realise this is a song about cheating ,” I announce, through the gap between the front seats, but Mum holds up her hand to halt my words as she belts out a chord.

Ria and I glance at each other, before bursting into laughter. Already, the knot in my chest begins to unravel itself, and I will myself not to think of Rafayel, or Marlon, or boys at all for the rest of the drive.

The markets are already bustling once we arrive a little past 10 am, so we opt to eat brunch first, in hopes that the crowd will disperse a little once we arrive.

There’s a Filipino restaurant nearby, much to our satisfaction, since there are hardly any Filipino chains around where we’re based in Western Sydney. It’s a small establishment, family run and with only a few customers when we walk in. The walls of the restaurant are adorned with shelves selling Filipino imported goods.

Immediately, I’m embraced by the intimacy of the place, and though I wasn’t born in the Philippines, I always feel at home whenever I’m surrounded by spaces of my culture.

“Kamusta na!” the patron - a middle-aged man - greets as we saunter toward the counter. I order myself a serving of rice and chicken menudo from the food display, only slightly disappointed there isn’t any palabok.

We take a seat at one of the central tables. A small TV installed into the corner of the shop plays the Filipino film Diary Ng Panget, and I watch along with intrigue, despite my limited understanding.

As we eat, Mum thankfully doesn’t ask me much about Marlon. Instead, she asks about how my assignments are going, and I tell her about the short-film production. She asks Ria about how preparations for Year 11 and 12 are coming, and Ria just grunts.

“It’s going,” she responds, the unfinished sentence being all the answers we need.

I sympathise with Ria; Year 11 was one of the worst years of my life academically.

“How’s your major piece?” I ask, taking a sip from the calamansi juice. It’s so good and refreshing; there needs to be more calamansi sold here in Australia.

Ria grunts again.

“I’m getting there,” she says.

She waves off the conversation, wanting to move on. Mum assures her that no matter the mark she gets, as long as she’s tried her hardest. I’ve always been grateful that Mum and Dad don’t put as much pressure academically on Ria and I, as opposed to other stories I’ve heard from old friends of mine at high school.

After we eat, we begin exploring the markets and as my parents head down the clothing path, Ria and I diverge toward the second-hand books and handcrafted books.

Table upon table displays an array of different items. I eye certain Stephen King books I don’t yet own, and gush over a table of crocheted book sleeves. Then, I come across one displaying handmade keychains and embroidered patches.

My eyes fall upon a particular keychain that catches my interest. It’s a crocheted crescent moon that reminds me of Sailor Moon. I reach forward, my fingers closing around the keychain.

Marlon’s artwork of her flashes through my brain, interweaving itself with the memory of watching Sailor Moon with him late into the night over call, muffling our laughter and discussions with our blankets so as not to wake our families. It’s become a sort of tradition of ours now, every night, and one that I’ve begun to look forward to.

“May I help you?”

The vendor approaches me. Her eyes fall on the crescent moon keychain.

“Do you like moons?” she asks.

I nod, smiling, “I do, but this might be for a friend.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, interested.

“Ah! Well, this is a two for one deal. If you want, you can get one that is matching.”

She sorts through the rest of the keychain collection in the tub, and pulls another one up. This time, it's a moon that’s three-quarters full.

“This one is the exact match for that crescent one. See,” she reaches forward, taking the crescent moon from me, and pieces the two keychains together. The two moons fit perfectly.

Would that be weird, to give Marlon a keychain that matches with mine?

I mean, we are only friends. It can be a symbol of our newfound friendship, after years and years of loathing. It’s with those thoughts in mind that I nod, accepting the offer.

Ria appears suddenly beside me, just as I tap my card against the kiosk.

“What did you buy?” she asks. In her hand, she holds her own purchase - a handcrafted tote with an embroidery of BTS. I eye the tote bag, mentally noting down that I’ll need to get one of my own.

“Oh, just keychains,” I say.

As I push the paperbag holding the keychains into my tote, Ria swiftly grabs it first.

“Hey!” I exclaim.

She pulls out the two keychains.

“Matching ones?” she asks, sceptically.

I pry them from her hands, and without saying anything further, I saunter down the market pathway, quickening my pace. It does nothing, as Ria catches up to me in less than a heartbeat.

Damn her longer legs.

“Is this for Rafayel?” Ria questions, yet from her tone I know she knows. It isn’t for Rafayel. I hadn’t thought of buying Rafayel anything from here, when I should be.

“It can be,” I respond, a little lamely.

“But it’s not, is it?”

I don’t even dare to meet Ria’s eyes. I turn away, shrugging.

“Yeah, maybe, I mean it’s whatever.”

I turn away from Ria again, just as I hear her mutter a perplexed “huh?”.

I pretend to occupy myself with a stack of second hand classic novels at a nearby stall, but as Ria settles back beside me, all I feel is her knowing smirk.

Later on, when we reunite with our parents, we compare hauls. Mum’s bought herself two pairs of jeans, while Dad’s bought a new Green Lantern comic for his DC comic collection.

I show her the two matching keychains and she smiles widely, knowing already who they are for. She pinches my cheeks with that sparkle in her eyes.

“You both give me kilig,” she says, affectionately.

I swat her hand away, my cheeks red from the pinch, refusing to acknowledge that she’d called Marlon and I kilig .

Kilig refers to ‘romantic excitement’ and is often used as an expression by Filipinos about a couple or pairing that gives them butterflies. Similarly to when you root for a pairing from a tv show, or movie.

Mum and Dad are kilig .

Lara Jean and Peter are kilig .

Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy are kilig .

But not Marlon and I. Never, in a million years.

It’s late into the afternoon, dipping into the evening when we arrive home from the markets. We’d explored the area a little more, with my Dad finding a nice ornament to add to our backyard garden at an antique store.

Ria and I were able to purchase two new books for ourselves from a second-hand bookstore - a copy of Julia Quinn’s Romancing Mister Bridgerton and Jane Austen’s Persuasion for me, and Jane Austen’s Emma and Tahereh Mafi’s Shatter Me for Ria.

I excitedly shelve them as soon as I get home, noting that I’ve got to buy a new bookshelf. It’s beginning to overflow with my combined collection of books, kpop albums and miscellaneous pop culture figurines.

Why do I like so much stuff, I think to myself, with a sigh.

After dinner, my family and I watch a rerun of Terminator on TV, and as always, I tear up as Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese’s doomed love unfolds on screen.

It’s only when I’m settled into bed, curled under the covers with Romancing Mister Bridgerton open on my lap, that my phone buzzes.

Something in me deflates.

Am I expecting too much, to hope that maybe he’d tell me a little more about his day? With me, I always want all the details, no matter how miniscule it is.

The little details, to me, are never little.

Even if he had spent the day on the couch, bingeing through episodes of his latest TV obsession or catching up on soccer, I’d love to know about it. I sink into my bed, moving my book to my bedside.

I press send, and wait patiently for him to reply. After twenty minutes, he doesn’t. I sigh, disappointed.

I was expecting too much, wasn’t I? Surely I was. I’m still a stranger to Rafayel, and he is to me, after all. I’m about to put my phone away, when my phone buzzes again. Excited, I check it, but this time, it’s from Marlon.

My lips tug involuntarily. Pulling the covers off of me, I pull out the two books I’d bought today and snap a photo. I don’t show him the keychain - not yet.

He reacts with a photo of Usagi from Sailor Moon, with her eyes jutting out with hearts. I giggle a little to myself, before tidying the books, and settling back under the covers. I ask him how the date with Christine went today,

My stomach turns. I glimpse my reflection through the phone glass, and realise I’m smiling.

I’m giddy at the thought of going out tomorrow, and I convince myself it has everything to do with eating more Filipino sweets, and nothing at all to do with the company. Just before I close my eyes to sleep, I finally get a response from Rafayel.