The Art of Holding On (Book 3)

Voice002.mp4

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I refuse to let go of his hand tonight. Ed and I had talked about the rooms occupied by the production staff and with this location shift, I asked him if Alden and I could share the same room along with the excuse that other members of the crew, may it be female or male, will be sharing a single room as well. He just dismissed me. He's an old asshole, by the way, and if this leaks out, Ed, let me tell you that you are just a lonely soul trying to be poetic and all that. We're all lonely souls trying to find one damn vessel who could understand us, that one vessel where we could pour our hearts out - and damn you, Ed, you're not going to find yours. Not with that stupid beard.

So. What are we going to do? Pretend you're not married?

I can't remove my ring. Let's just enjoy our stolen time together?

Sure. I nod, and I snuggle deeper into his chest. I don't know. I may be immature for a thirty-something-I-refuse-to-disclose-damn-you-people-who-already-know-year-old, but who ages gracefully, by the way? We all age with ugly scars and I refuse to hear the voice of some know-it-all who would tell me what's right or wrong. I'm past the point of caring; I've stepped beyond the line of logical reasoning.

Do you love me?

Yes.

Until when?

He doesn't answer, of course, and it squeezed my heart well, like I could pour someone a good measure of 500mL consisting of my misery juices. Make that a liter.

I was unhappy.

Ngayon?

No. When I was abroad.

But you didn't write. Sabi mo you could write when you're sad... but you didn't produce anything.

I didn't produce anything.. na alam mo. Of course. Hindi mo alam kung paano nagreklamo ang Tita ko sa sobrang daming papel na nagkalat sa kwarto ko every single night and how I would scream in the middle of the night because everything I write implied the idea of us.

You love me that much?

Yeah. 

I did, too.

Did. Past tense?

Sorry. I still love you today. Or tonight. I'm not good with words.

You are. You're much more poetic than me.

Okay, just careless.

Should I get a tattoo?

Anong ipapalagay mo?

Your name? I don't know. I had a secret dream.

Which is not a secret anymore because you'd spill it tonight.

Yes. Gusto ko sana magpatattoo ng name ng baby natin... dito sa may collar bone ko. 

But we said we'd have three kids. Or more. Kawawa muscles mo. 

I can endure the pain. Kaya ko nga 'to, 'di ba?

Maine.

My legs are entangled with his, but somehow, with a single sigh from his mouth, they get weak. I feel like my knees are already trembling and I grip his shirt tighter because I could not stop my tears. And I should not cry, of course. Not when I chose this.

Why are you crying?

I feel like you don't love me, you know. Sigurado ka bang hindi ka lang naawa?

Hindi ka nakakaawa, Maine.

But I was desperate for your love.

And I am willing to give it to you.

Shet.

What?

Baliw na nga siguro ako.

Why?

I wanted to kiss you.

Just kiss?

Yeah, of course.

You are one extraordinary mistress.

But we all share something.

What?

We all beg.

He closes the distance between our lips, and I find myself smelling the stars again in his breath. If I am dreaming, universe, I am begging for the nth time never to let my consciousness come back to life. I chant a prayer, to no one, to the God Who may shake His forgiving head at the sin I am doing and the apple I am offering to my Adam, and I feel the bile rising in my throat as I hear a kid's cry at the back of my head, like a huge snake is suddenly crushing my shameful hands tenderly touching his face - but he whispers another chant, another that is stronger and louder than mine.

I love you.

I open my eyes, drowning in tears, and I have to blink several times for me to see that he is mirroring the same, dripping eyes, of resentment, love, longing, I do not know.

I love you.

He whispers those three words again, and my knees get to their weakest state, like the snake is finally turning all my bones into dust, because that is what I deserve - because that is what sinners deserve.

We love each other and we swore each other's lifetime to the other. Why?

He asks in his broken voice, not knowing that it broke what was left of my crippled heart as well.

What did we do in our past lives to deserve this kind of wasted love?

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