The Promise We Couldn't Keep

12

TPWCK:
12

…………

IT fascinated me how time worked mysteriously. It sprinted when you were happy but crawled in sadness. Five months felt like a decade ago already, although nothing had changed that much in Rinia’s place since the last time I was here, except maybe for the new medals hanging by the wall in the corner by the stair.

The room brought about the feeling of familiarity as much as I had to stomach the sense of unfamiliarity, and incongruence, as though the time I spent avoiding coming back here had caused a big enough change between me and the place. New fabrics draped over the sofa and couches, sure, but the living room still gave off the familiar sense of security and belongingness, even though it wasn’t as strong as before. The pieces of furniture were still placed where I remembered them to be the last time I was here.

I was sitting on the sofa while Fernando, who rushed here immediately after Rinia called him on the phone to tell him of the sudden change of plans and talk about the fight at the café, tended to my bruises.

“What were you thinking? Letting his taunting get to you when we all know you’re not a good fighter,” he said irritatedly.

I rolled my eyes at him, my body staying still, mindful not to mess up with the treatment. “What did you expect me to do? Let the bastard slide when he harassed my queen?”

If he noticed my use of pronoun, he didn’t show, except for the slight twitch of his eyebrows, but that could mean anything. “Still, you initiated a physical fight. What if he files a case against you? There’s only so much that barangay captain uncle of yours can do.”

I glared at him. He knew how much I hate using family connections to win over politics. He couldn’t have forgotten about this already after seven months. “I’m not expecting my uncle to defend me in my stead,” I said, my voice hard. “That perverted bastard can file against me all he wants, but there are several witnesses to his harassment of Nia. WE can file against him.”

He stopped applying ointment on my wound for a moment, his brows drawn together the way they did when he was considering a thought, then, with a defeated sigh, he said, “We can’t. We don’t have any definitive proof.”

“We’re talking about more than ten witnesses here, Fernando.”

“Fernan.”

I rolled my eyes at him, again. This was apparently becoming a habit now when I interacted with Fernando, even when I don’t intend to.

“Yeah. Whatev— OUCH. Be careful. It hurts, you jerk.”

My hand itched to caress the wound he purposely applied with more pressure than necessary while rubbing the ointment. It also itched to punch his annoying, beautiful face.

“That’s what you get for resorting to violence.”

“Why, if you were the one there instead of me, would you have let him off the hook?”

“No. Nobody messes with our queen and gets away with it.”

His lack of hesitation caught me off guard more than my inclusion in his words, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the surprise on my face. Lest he took it the wrong way.

“See? Then why are you nagging at me?” I asked instead.

He looked me in the eyes for a brief moment before he went back to treating my face. “Am I not allowed to anymore?”

It might just have been my imagination, but I felt his thumb lightly brush one of my eyebrows.

“No, you aren’t.”