Letters from Spring Street

Chapter 2

(Sometime around 2002)

A young girl in a yellow dress sported a wide grin as she entered Le Chateau, hand in hand with her mother. Her father was trailing right behind them, after having instructed the bellboy to handle their luggage carefully.

Her young, sparkling eyes scanned the majestic lobby, from the pristine marble floors to the glittering diamond chandelier above their heads. Her eyes drift from painting to painting hung around the mahogany walls, to sculptures and vases placed around the lobby. They approached the middle of the lobby and stood in front of a large round table which housed the biggest flower arrangement she has ever seen. Her eyes widen at the colorful array of peonies and tulips in pastel peaches and pink.

The young girl stretches out her arms and inadvertently reaches out to grab a tulip when she felt her mom lightly swat her hand away, "Menggay, don't do that." Her mother had her lips pursed, as if trying to suppress a smile—her Menggay has always been a little bit naughty.

"Sorry, mama." Maine replies, grinning at her mother.

"It's okay, my love." Her mother lovingly strokes her hair.

Just then, her father catches up to them and leads them towards the hotel reception desk.

Nicomaine's father was an expat working for a large multinational company, and she grew up knowing no permanency—friends, school, neighbors, all of them were unfortunately temporary. For as long as she remembers, and from what her mother has told her, they have been moving from country to country every three years.

But in all her young years of life, there was one place they always came back to—Le Chateau. Every single year, her family goes back home and spends an entire month checked in at this hotel. In fact, one of her earliest childhood memories was being carried around Le Chateau's enormous green house.

Maine tunes out the voices of her parents as they checked themselves in and finds herself walking aimlessly around the perimeter of the lobby, still admiring the beautiful architecture. She looked down on her feet, entranced by the shinning marble floors, lightly skipping as she tried to avoid the lines where the marble edges meet.

She was surprised when the top of her head hit something hard, "Araaaaay", she groaned lifting her head and instinctively touching the same with her hands.

Her eyes widen as she saw a lanky and tall young boy, with light complexion, his face blushing red from embarrassment. Then she noticed his crisp white dress shirt stained with what looked like dark chocolate ice cream. Nicomaine looked down on the floor and noticed what looked like a half-eaten scoop of chocolate ice cream splattered on the marble floors.

Yikes. That was definitely ice cream.

"Sorry! Sorry, di ko sinasadya."

"It's okay." The boy replied, attempting to wipe away the dark stain on his white shirt with his handkerchief, despite the obvious futility of it all. He was not even looking at her, but he couldn't hide the frown creeping upon his face.

He looks so annoyed.

I can't believe I now have huge stain on my shirt. On my white shirt. Hay. Ang malas ko naman.

The boy was caught in surprise when he saw the girl take out her own handkerchief and started wiping the stain away. "Okay lang talaga", he said stepping away from her and lifts his head. The boy finally sees her face and was instantly met with large, brown, expressive eyes. She visibly stopped her movement and stared curiously at the boy who stared right back at her.

"I'm really sorry, kuya. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

The boy cocked his brows at her and replied, "Hindi mo ako kuya."

Maine looked at the boy incredulously, "Ang sungit mo naman. Nag-sosorry na nga ako eh."

"And I said it was okay. So if you'll excuse me..."

Nicomaine did not even let the boy finish—she rolled his eyes at him and walked back to where her parents were. Sobrang sungit naman nung lalakeng yun. Halata naman na hindi ko sinsasadya.

*************

Around four in the afternoon, Maine crossed paths again with the young boy at the hotel café where her mother wanted to have afternoon tea with some of her friends from when she was younger. She saw him from afar, in what seems to be a new, and more importantly, spotless white dress shirt, sitting on the plush chairs by the large floor-length windows overlooking the hotel garden, having a snack with who appeared to be his mother.

She was staring at him the whole time, walking behind her mother, hoping against hope he won't notice her walk in. Fortunately, their group ended up sitting at the farthest corner away from the boy's table, yet she was seated directly within his line of vision.

A couple of minutes into their afternoon tea, Nicomaine had completely forgotten about the rude young boy who snarled at her earlier and found herself engrossed—listening to her mother and her friends catch up. She gingerly reached for the fine china and touched the cup to her lips. Mid-sip, she absentmindedly looked at the little boy's direction.

The boy was actually laughing—his eyes were half closed, body leaning towards the window, he was almost tumbling over. He looked so amused, so happy. He looked far from the rude boy with the foulest mood she had met earlier at the lobby. And to her surprise, a small indent appeared on his left cheek—yes, a dimple.

She could have sworn that wasn't there before.