Groom Wars

17. To Not Fall For Him

Leandro made breakfast for me; a simple meal containing three slices of toast, two sunny-side-up eggs, and a cup of lemon ginger tea. The kitchen and common area were stuffed with bodies and loud voices—I supposed it would stay that way for the first few days. Later, the number would dwindle, alliances would form and shatter, true colours would be revealed, and a few of us would get to meet the princess and the royal family. One lucky individual would get to marry the princess. None of us had ever seen her face. Unlike Prince Deidrick, whose face and shocking red hair graced the cover of magazines and appeared on TV, the princess was hidden. She was some secret organism existing outside the perception of the common man.

Not even her peers had seen her without a veil. Naturally, rumours spread among us that she might be horribly disfigured or might have some sort of mental illness, but despite her flaws, the participants would fight for her because of the money and power they could earn. I differed from my housemates; I wouldn't risk my life for her. I planned to stay till I was eliminated, and if I made it to the finals by some miraculous means, I would drop out and give my place to someone more deserving.

To enjoy my breakfast, Leandro and I journeyed outside and sat at the glass patio table in the backyard, under an umbrella, while cameramen watched us. Our companions weren't the blonde girl, Cara, and her brother. No, these were faces we didn't know. People that didn't talk. To my right, someone swam laps in the pool, while someone-else lounged on an inflatable swan. On my left were the glass doors and tinted windows of the mansion. Through which I could see men standing in the hall, and chatting, getting to know each other.

It was a gloomy day; grey clouds darkened the sky, and though it was summer, it was cold enough to wear a sweater.

Leandro and I didn't talk. He seemed sullen, withdrawn. Sometimes he would glance at me, then look away without another word. Something like anger crossed his pretty face. I ripped off a piece of toast and dipped it into the yolk. It pierced the skim, and the yellow liquid oozed like volcanic lava.

I glanced at Leandro sitting with his arms crossed over his naked chest.

"Do you not own a shirt?"

"I'm warm."

"Aren't you worried you'll look like a douche?"

He smiled, losing some of the tension that had been plaguing him. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous, sir? Me? Nay. Why would I be jealous when I have my own?" I stood and raised my shirt, showing off my abs and obliques. "See?" Satisfied with the curiosity that crossed his face, I lowered my shirt and sat down.

"I know women that are twice your size." He smirked.

In response to his haughty countenance, a strained smile appeared on my face. "Why are you picking a fight with me, sir?"

"On the contrary, I'm not picking a fight; I'm simply pointing that I know women twice your size."

I stuck out my tongue, then remembering I was on camera, I resumed a poker face. I thought of splashing Leandro with blue paint, rubbing it all over his face and skin, and maybe then, he would look a little less handsome. A little less annoying. Maybe I would imagine him with blue skin from this point on.

After a moment, he seemed to beat whatever he was struggling with internally. His brows relaxed. The creases lining his forehead all but faded. But the grim set of his jaw remained. He said, "Tell me about your sisters. Asides from Eve throwing your toy dinosaur into the lake and killing him, why don't you like them?"

"Asides from Mr. Tolulu? Well, it's not that I don't like them... sometimes they're fun. Sometimes I enjoy their company. Sometimes we joke and mess around with each other, but you know, after you turn fourteen, boys and girls drift apart. We are sent to separate schools and we have different social norms expected of us.

"I find it stifling that guys aren't expected to show emotion, but girls can. It makes it hard for me to relate to my sisters because I'm not supposed to show them how I feel. What's more tantalizing is I love art, but it requires emotion; it's about expression. Some of the greatest composers are males; Wolfgang, Beethoven, Heinz Zimmerman, Yiruma and Chopin, to name a few. I don't think people ever thought of them as losers. Maybe people laughed at them when they began, but no one could laugh at them after they became successful. When artists perform, they put their emotions into their performance; everything is placed in the open for the viewer or listener to witness. And you feel their emotion when you listen to or view their pieces. You feel the bubbling happiness or the heavy-heartedness that accompanies a bad break up. You feel whatever they want you to feel. But unlike the past, our current society discourages men from performing, tells them to ignore the arts and focus on logic.

"I try to be the perfect man, I guess, but I've loved music since I was a baby. And while I've always secretly wanted a career in it, I knew I was destined to take over my father's business, so I was better off pushing distracting thoughts from my mind and focusing on developing the skills I needed to take over from him. But sometimes, I can't help being drawn to it.

"Music might not be in my future, but I still think we, as a people, need to support men feeling things a bit more. That's why I sometimes hate my sisters. They can feel, they can express themselves, but I'm not supposed to. And if I do play music or sing, people say 'oh, that one's feminine or I wonder what he's got between his legs, or something's funny 'bout that one.' And because they say things like this, sometimes I feel that...." My emotions collected in a hot cauldron and boiled. The premonition of approaching tears was heralded by a funny sting behind my eyes, and I willed myself to calm down. What I desired was to take this gendered society, rip it apart and piece it together in a more fluid manner.

I wanted to create a world where men could wear dresses and wigs, and women could cut their hair short and wear suits without getting arrested. I wanted to create a world where women would be able to study science and mathematics if they wished.

I wanted to create a free world where daughters wouldn't have to pretend to be boys to ensure their family's longevity.

"Sometimes you feel what?" Leandro asked, leaning forward in a fashion that drew my attention to him.

"Nothing." I smiled bitterly and took a sip of the tea.

He said, "I think men like you, who are more in touch with their feminine side—as you say, because you do feel more, and probably feel things more deeply than others, it's easy for you to be hurt. Personally, I have nothing against male musicians, and quite a few of them have risen to fame recently. If you want something, you should push for it. I think you should follow your heart and become a musician."

"It's frowned upon."

"By some rigid men, yes. But I think women are a good deal more forgiving than us. I think they were raised to be that way. I think if the woman loves you, she'll support you on your journey. There's no reason to worry. And if some silly woman rejects you for your passion, and you need a friend to support you, I'll be there." Resting his elbow on the table, he reached across the gap between us and placed his warm hand atop mine. He smiled sweetly. If I was a woman, I might have fallen for him right there and then, but I didn't have the freedom to be a woman. I didn't fall for him.

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