Player of the Game

Track 25: Wag Mong Aminin (Rico Blanco)

Madeleine.

"Si Fel..." She looked at me with eyes full of emotion."Bea's still waiting for her, isn't she?"

It was almost blinding. Her eyes are glassy—a vessel waiting for its own destruction.

We are back to that eerie afternoon in UP Diliman. Suddenly I felt that irrational fear of her breaking down, losing consciousness, going through the same process of pain all over again.

Questions—undending questions.

"Maddie, sagutin mo naman ako o." She's pleading. She may not know it but I can see her now bony fingers gripping the cold wooden arm of the chair.

I wish I knew how to make the answer to that easier to explain. Believe me.

"Hindi ko alam." Through croaked voice, I lied. I'm pleading—searingly pleading. Stop doing this to yourself, Jho.

"Bakit hindi mo alam?" She heaved, closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing.

"Bakit walang nakakaalam?" She continued.

"Fel's a mystery." I carelessly told her. "She's everyone's mystery."

That latter one leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Walang tanong na hindi nasasagot." She supplemented in an oddly rueful manner.

I could think of anything to say so I just diverted my eyes somewhere else. I think she did, too.

We both turned to look at the rose gardens outside. Schools of red, white and pink flowers sprawled across the well-wished garden. Gleaming pathways of granite and pebbles line the walkways. Warm lights outline the walkways for the luminosity of the night to see and touch them conveniently.

"Minahal n'ya?" She quipped out of the growing silence.

I looked at her. She threw me daggers. It was a contest and I'm not sure if I'm up to winning it.

"Siguro." I tried playing safe.

"Maddie, ilang araw na tayong magkasama. Alam kong alam mong lagpas na tayo sa safe zones." Okay, so not safe at all.

"Fine. Oo." I'm on your side, why are you doing this, Jhoana?

"Mahal pa rin n'ya?" I felt my heart throbbing faster from this goddamn arms race.

"Don't do this." I swallowed hard. I wanted her to notice my suffering.

"I'm not doing anything." She said almost too innocently. "Nagtatanong lang ako."

"Well, I don't like your line of questioning."

"Bakit? Ano'ng mali sa pagtatanong ko?"

Is she freakin serious? "You're hurting yourself."

"Hindi ko kailangan ng awa. Can you still call it affection when you're choosing to hide the truth from me?" She prodded me with a sharp glare. "I need answers. Mahal pa rin ba n'ya si Fel?"

Bakit ba ako ang nilagay dito sa sitwasyong 'to?

Goddamnit, Beatriz. Bakit ba sa tuwing magkakalat ka, ako kailangang umayos?

"She wrote her a song." I tried to sound nonchalant as I said it. It was spiteful, I know. But what can I do? She's doing it to herself. If this is what she really wanted, then let me try to help.

I saw her eyes grew wide basking in the lone spotlight of this deposed milieu. But then she aired out a staggered breath; possibly steadying her resolve.