Defining Paradox

Chapter Five: The Mechanics of Spending Time with a Stranger

 

           Yesterday, I made a friend. My first friend in the Philippines. Well, I’m not sure if I can call him a friend, because the whole time we were together, I did 98.5 % of the talking. But still, I met someone. His name is Brett, and he splashed me with cold water.

        That's a promising start of a friendship, right?

        Today is just a normal day in the Philippines, the summer breeze embracing me as the sun kissed my skin. I was in the front yard, just passing time. Mom had a taping for the soap opera she was starring on today. Anyway, Tita Grace let me spend time with her dog, a cute Labrador named Chase.

        "Chase, fetch!” I told the dog, while throwing the Frisbee away. He ran to catch it. He did. “Good Boy!” I stroked his fur and patted his head. I threw the Frisbee again, and Chase ran to get it once more. The only problem was that he didn't get to catch it, because it hit somebody in the head.

        “Ow!” he said, rubbing the area near his eye, where I hit him. I gasped.

        “Oh my god, I am so sorry. Are you okay?” I sprinted towards him. When he raised his head, my eyes widened slightly in recognition.

        You physically injured your first acquaintance in the country. Nice going, Sapphire.

        “Brett? Oh My God, I am so sorry! Are you hurt?” he stopped rubbing his temple to look at me. “It’s fine.” He mumbled. I saw him wince when I touched his temple, and that’s when I saw the bruise forming, bright red and swollen. “Let’s get inside and put some ice on that, okay?” I lead him inside the house.

        The house was big, like the rest of the houses in the subdivision. There was a spacious backyard with an outside lounge. The exterior of the house was designed to be modern. It had floor to ceiling windows that showed the glass staircase. It was white, with  black and silver details.

        Inside, there was modern furniture, from the abstract pieces of art, to the sleek interior design. I know that mom doesn’t make as much money as dad does, but I guess she still makes a ton.

        I made him sit on the kitchen counter. I handed him an ice pack. “Here you go. To help with the bruise. I’m really sorry” I smiled apologetically. He shrugged. “It’s nothing. A little bruise can’t hurt anybody. Uh, we were going to paint?” he said, avoiding the topic. I let it go. “Uh, yeah. Let’s go up?” I said.

        We went up the stairs after getting the paint and the equipment from the garage. On the way up, I saw him looking at the movie posters mom starred in. I smiled. “”You know her?” I asked, opening the door to me room. He followed. “Uh, yes.

        We left it at that. I didn’t want to continue with the conversation, because I didn’t want anyone to know more about me. I didn’t want more people to know that I’m here. That would just ruin everything. I’m supposed to be hiding. He seemed to understand that I didn’t want to talk about it, because he didn’t say anything after that.

        We covered the ground with newspaper and we set the furniture aside. The first few minutes were extremely awkward for me. He just wouldn’t talk. So I talked.

        “So, it’s just going to be black and white stripes. Is that going to be okay? I like stripes. No, I love stripes. Do you love stripes? Stripes look nice right? They look clean. And they look polished. And so does black and white. Minimalist. Sophisticated, or something close to that. It’s very basic, and also very simple. I think it’s nice. But I’m not sure. I think I like gray walls too. Gray is a neutral color too right? And I think it’s very clean, very simple. Neutrals are pretty basic to work with. I like neutrals too. And then it can have that old vintage feel or I don’t know. What do you think?”

        After I gave him my mini speech about neutrals and stripes, I turned to look at him. Brett stopped assembling the equipment to turn to look at me. He just shrugged. “Both are okay.”

        I pouted. This is such a difficult task. How do you paint a room with a stranger? Moreover, how do you interact with a stranger?  He wouldn’t communicate with me. I tried to ask him questions, right? But he doesn’t give me full answers. I mean, I could talk and talk and talk like what I did yesterday, but I think that would just annoy him. We could work in silence, but that would be extremely awkward. Ugh. Is there an instruction manual on how to do this?

        Meh. I’ll just wing it. We started painting the walls white, as the base color. Then we covered it with black. It took a long time before we finished painting. The room was so big, and the ceiling was so high. But after a few hours, we were done. When the paint dried, we put the furniture back together.

        The whole time, I was talking. It started with me asking him about his opinion with robot labor and somehow, the topic drifted to the World War II.

        “But if the Americans didn’t show up here, we wouldn’t be even included in the Second World War. But then again, if they didn’t show up here, we wouldn’t be able to have the public school system and even our own government. Maybe we would, but we wouldn’t be educated enough to have our own republic. We would be clueless and the other countries wouldn’t be able to take us seriously.” I turned to him. He shrugged and started talking while replacing the white bed sheets with red ones.

        “Yes. Even though we were included in the World War II because of them, well not that we blamed them or anything, they did help us a lot. They influenced our country in so many ways.” He gave me a small, almost invisible, smile. That’s all it takes to get him talking? The American’s Benevolent Assimilation in the Philippines? Oh well. At least he finally talked. I smiled back.

        “Yes. Good point.” I said. He cleared his throat just as we finished arranging the furniture. “Everything seems to be in order. I, uh, better get going.” He said.

        "Wait. I need to pay you.” I searched my pockets for my wallet. He shook his head. "I told you. It’s for free.” He said his voice barely audible. I smiled.

        "No really. I really want to pay you. You helped me paint and you even helped me fix the room. And I hit your head, so it’s only fair that I pay you.” I insisted, getting five hundred pesos from my wallet. He shook his head like a little boy and put the money back in my wallet. I huffed. “Okay fine. Well, at least let me treat you some food.” I went out the room before he could say anything.

 

        We went to the living room, while we waited for the pizza. He sat on the couch, while I sat on the floor. He’s still silent. But actually, I’m starting to get used to it. He coughed.

        “Sapphire, it’s seriously oka-" He started once more, but I cut him off before he can disagree with me again. “No. you’re eating. I don’t like having debts.” I told him curtly. He sighed as his shoulders dropped, as if giving up.  I smiled triumphantly. The doorbell rang. “Pizza’s here yo.” I skipped towards the door.

        After paying the delivery guy, I headed back to the living room, carrying two boxes of pepperoni pizza. Brett’s eyebrows shot up. “We are going to eat all of that?” he asked, his voice dripping with slight disbelief. I looked at him like he was crazy.

        “Of course we are. One box each. Duh. Come on, don’t be shy. It’s my treat, remember?” I started eating my first slice. From the corner of my eye, I saw him shake his head slightly as he started eating.

        We ate in silence. But for the first time, it was comfortable silence. It wasn’t even a tad bit awkward. We were just too hungry to talk. For the first time, I felt like he was actually warming up to me. I don’t know why, but it made me happy.

         After I finished my box, I smiled. “That’s food. That, my friend, was excellent cooking.” I said. He was just finishing his last slice. I saw him smile softly. “Thank you.” he mumbled, soft that I almost didn’t hear him but loud enough that I did. And that alone made me grin.