Ystoria.Tk

January 2004

 

Tatlo: Unico Hijo

(Three: Only Son)

written by A.C.Rupierto

Dad was a strict when it came to my two younger sisters but not to me. To me, he was the cool dad. He served me with my first beer so much to my mom’s disapproval. If I were to go out at night with my friends, he would overwrite my mom’s refusal to allow me. When I needed extra money, he was the one I could count on.

 

On the summer before I was to move to Manila and study, mom was concern about pretty girls I would meet. Telling me, I should not pay attention and just concentrate on my studies. Dad interrupted my mom abruptly telling me to have as many girlfriends as I can and that I should enjoy.

“Look at your son, mommy, he is very handsome. He should take advantage of it, and enjoy, while he still have it.” Dad said proudly.

“There you are again siding with your son,” Mom said, “I do understand that he too needs to enjoy himself in company of pretty girls. I also get that it’s important for young boys to experience having relationships with the opposite sex. The thing is, you know how kids are now… would you want your son to go home one day in the middle of the semester with a pregnant girlfriend?”

“Of course not, that’s why I’m to send him to Manila with a box of condoms.”

“Dad, not in front of the girls,” mom said indignantly, pertaining to my younger sisters.

 

Dad had badger me about girls all through out high school. Aside from serving me my first beer, Dad also introduced me with porn by letting me discover where he keeps his stacks of Playboy Magazine. When he noticed that I knew where it was but not touching it, he would leave some of it under my bed. At one time, he left a triple-x video at the VHS player in my room.

He kept on asking me if I already have a girlfriend or was wooing anyone already. He would ask what type of girls I like and kept on introducing me to the daughters of his friends or colleagues. He even went as far as asking my sisters to bring their friends home with them so I could meet them and hopefully would like one of them. At prom night he wanted to meet who am I taking, even brought the flowers that I would give my date.

 

Jenny was a close friend, just the closest girl to me, and not a girlfriend although she doesn’t mind being identified as my girlfriend. Actually, she seemed to enjoy playing my girlfriend. When I introduced her to my dad, I introduced her only as a classmate and not a girlfriend. But my dad assumed she was, I guess because she was the only girl I introduced to him. Jenny didn’t mind. She just went with the flow. I guess she was very, even hoping, into the idea. Well, as dad said, I am very good looking

I never really thought about Jenny as more than a friend. Sure, I thought that she was pretty and that I like her personality very much but… well, I never really thought of having a girlfriend even if I knew there were a couple of other girls in high school who was crushing on me. But seeing that dad really wants me to have a girlfriend and that he really liked Jenny, aside from that he already believe that she was indeed my girlfriend, I decided to go for it. Anyway, I was quite sure she wouldn’t turn me down. A week after I proposed to her we became officially an item.

 

“Yes, Mr. Fernandez?” My chemistry teacher, in the laboratory, a little startled of my intrusion. It was almost six, hardly were any more students or teachers left in the building. I didn’t answer, just looking at him, desperate to look tough and that I am totally in control. He saw right through me.

“You wanted to talk to me about your grades…” he guessed and it was indeed. I have failed in his subject. Still I didn’t answer. He motioned me to come forward, take a seat. I walked forward but I didn’t seat. I stood there in front of his desk. He looked but thought never mind and went to look at my records. I went to look at him…

He was average looking with a few handsome points—his eyes, dimpled face. He was in his mid-twenty’s, intelligent—he graduated with honors. He was as tall as me, medium built but with broad shoulders—he said, one time in class, from being a farm hand.

“You failed but it’s not that bad,” he said, “I propose you pass me a chemistry project… let’s see…”

“What if I just give you my body for tonight?” I said in monotone.

He looked at me, surprised. I just looked back at him to tell him he heard me right and that I was serious.

“I would pretend not to have heard that and just pass me a diagram about atomic fusion.”

“I don’t want that.” I told him.

He looked at me discerningly, holding back his anger for my insolence. I didn’t budge.

“It’s either you sleep with me or I’ll tell my parents you asked to sleep with me in exchange for a better grade.”

Everybody in school knew he was gay. He didn’t hide it but was very discreet about it. Stricken, he tried so hard not to show it but I gave him no choice.

“You can’t prove that even if I do,” he said still trying to deface me.

“Perhaps, but would the school administration need proof? They’ll immediately relieve you from your job before, if there would be any, investigation, afraid of any scandal and crying for justice would put your career in teaching into much more jeopardy than it is as even if you win your case, which is not likely as you too have no way to prove so, no reputable school would hire you again.”

He was silent. Refusing to give up though he knew he have nothing but to hope I was just messing around… or to just pass me.

“Okay you win, I’ll give you a better grade. Now get out!”

Three days after that, I heard he past his resignation, telling he was to move back to his province and teach there instead. And I found myself back in that laboratory again, before him, alone.

 

“What do you want?” he asked, irritated of my presence as he goes through the shelves, checking them, arranging the contents.

I didn’t answer.

“I gave you a grade of eighty, isn’t that enough grade, do you want a higher one? Tell me, I’ll give it to you, just stay away from me.” He said without looking, pretending to be busy.

“I’m sorry…”

“What did you say?” he stopped what he was doing and looked at me

“I’ll do the project, I’ll do whatever is you want… just don’t leave…” I begged, my eyes on his shoes. I could feel his eyes on me, piercing, perhaps measuring my sincerity.

“Seat down,” he commanded as he took a seat too.

I obliged without a word, still my head bowed down.

“What made you change your mind?”

I don’t know… or that I didn’t want to admit it.

“Guilt?”

No, perhaps a little of it but not entirely, still, I didn’t speak.

He waited a little more.

 

“Do the diagram, atomic fusion.” He said.

I nodded.

“You better go already…”

“So, you’ll stay…”

“No, I’m just to fin…”

“Why?” panicked, I asked.

“My resignation have been…”

“Can’t you take it back?”

“I also have decided al…”

“Please stay…” I begged, stood up to kneel before him.

He stopped me, “Mr. Fernandez that won’t be necessary…” leading me to seat again. “I have other reasons for my resignation.”

“What other reasons…?”

“Personal ones, so you really have nothing to feel guilty about…” he said, “I have actually expressed my resignation to the administration long before and that the administration have only beg me to finish the term. So you see even without that stunt you pulled on me the other day, I would still be leaving and pass you as I don’t like to fail any student on my last year here.”

I sat there, dumbfounded. I have nothing to say anymore… but I can’t let him go… I don’t want him to go…

“It wasn’t guilt…”

“Say no more, everything is okay. I have forgiven you.”

“I don’t want you to leave…”

“I appreciate that…”

“You don’t understand…”

“What don’t I understand?”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Why don’t you want me to leave?”

“Because… because… I don’t want to!” I pound on the table. Desperate, struggling… why can’t he just stay?

“Now, Mr. Fernandez you are being insubordinate again.”

“Why don’t you want to stay!?”

“Mr. Fernandez!” he was trying to keep his cool.

“I said I’m sorry, I really am sorry, isn’t that enough! What else do you want me to do just to make you stay!?”

“I told you…”

“I want you to stay! Stay…! Please, stay… why don’t you just stay…” and I can no longer hold back my tears. Feeling weak and tired all of a sudden, my knees could no longer support my weight. Tired and weak, I hide my face stricken with tears in my palm and slowly, went down on the floor.

 

Sobbing, I only noticed he was already before me in the floor when I felt his hand over my shoulder and asked, “What is it…?”

I restrained myself from sobbing like hoping that my stillness would make me disappear. “What is it…? You can tell me, I would listen, let’s talk about it…”

His voice was calm and soothing. His hand was stroking my hair. And it made it harder to resist, to fight back, and not to hide.

With his other hand he peeled off my hand from my face. I have no power to resist. Held my face up to face his face and I saw that his eyes were with understanding, his dimples showing and his lips inviting. And with that, I lost my power to deny… hungrily, I leaned forward and kissed him.

 

I grew up hiding my true feelings and desire, afraid that if they knew, they’d hate and ridicule me for it. I have to hide it and pretend for my father, who wanted only boys for children but instead got only me. It would hurt him so much more than the shame it would bring. I can’t… not with all the love, care, and dreams he has for me… I can’t fail him. I have to hide it, pretend, kill it or at least suppress it… it was the least that I could do.

For a kid, I must say, I was smart… smart enough to know that I should keep it a secret. Well, I over heard my mom and dad talking about it. My father was worried, seeing me play with two of my 2 younger sister’s doll, favoring the dolls over my toy guns and other boyish toys he lavished me with being that I was the only boy, making me his favorite, that I would turn out to be a sissy when I grow up. My mom tried to brushed him off, telling him he was being silly to think so. She explained that I was just bored and wanted to play with my sister, telling my father, “You know how kids are…” My father hoped so too but told my mother to keep my sisters and their dolls away from me and there were no new dolls bought for my sisters again after that.

And then there was a kid in school I know who was tormented by the other kids by calling him faggot over and over. I thought it was mean of them specially that certainly he wasn’t like the faggot we see on TV—some man imitating a woman no matter how ridiculous he looks and sounds. But I guess that wasn’t the thing back then. We were kids and that it was what gets that kid to be really angry and later cry. And I don’t want to be that kid so I learned to hide my wanting to play with girls and their dolls and other girly toys and just imagine. At night, in bed, after a simple prayer of gratitude for the day that was, I dream of those dolls…

 

So, I did. There was really nothing to it. It actually came to me naturally and that it didn’t felt like pretending anymore. Well, I was yearning to play with my sister’s dolls and even wanting to own one for myself but dolls are not the only things that caught my fancy, there are other toys for boys that I really like and there were other games. You see when you are a kid there really is not a game exclusive for boys or for girls—at least, not in the neighborhood I grew up in. All of us kids in the neighborhood play whatever game we thought would be fun and we have no concept of girl game or boy game alone. The girls played with us if we play baril-barilan (war games) or basketball and the boys play with the girls if they play jump rope or hop scotch. So it was not that hard for me, I just stay away from things that I know are exclusively for girls—like dolls, and avoid imitating how girls move. And I did that for all my life since before I am able to read and write well so by the time I reached high school I grew used to it and that it didn’t bother me anymore. I even started to believe I was no different… that I am no sissy.

 

But suddenly, there he was… with his boyish look—beautiful, sparkling eyes, dimpled face, lips that are naturally pink, smooth and fair baby skin. Articulate, witty and funny, he spoke about himself that first day of class. And in that instance, I felt something for him… something weird… a distinct liking… I was certain I would hate anyone who would teach Chemistry—I don’t know what’s the point of learning about chemistry and I have no desire to learn anything about it. But there he was…

 

Suddenly, it all seemed clear.

 

It was tender and sweet… so wonderful, I never felt anything like it and as if I was free… free and could breath again… and the happiness I felt… I don’t mind dying already… How could it be possible to feel that much happiness at the same time and in just a few seconds?

 

When he realized what just had happened, he drew back with panic. Afraid, he tried to contain himself. “I want you to go already.”

“But…”

“Don’t, just go.”

“But…”

“I don’t want to hear it! Go! Leave me alone!” he took me in my arms and pulled me from the floor. I begged him, but he won’t listen and went on to lead me out of the door. And as he threw me out, I saw his eyes though fierce was pouring with tears.

 

That was the last time I saw him. I tried to find him, went to the boarding house he stayed but he was gone already. And I went back living in a lie.

 

It was all a lie and Jenny, her head resting over my chest, believed it all. My sisters who looks up to me for being the perfect brother, believed it all. My friends who envied me for my looks and having a great relationship with the prettiest girl in the batch believed it all. My mom and dad thankful for having such a good son believed it all. Everybody believed it all…

And the only one I wanted to tell the truth didn’t want to hear it… gone, to where… I don’t know…

 

It wasn’t all that bad, living in a lie—at least not to me. I guess it was case to case and that not because you read Oliver Twist, you’d know what is it like to be an orphan. Or perhaps, liking a fellow man is just one of the aspect in my life. Loving another man is just a part and not the whole of my happiness. There were other things that make me happy. Like seeing through my father’s eyes how proud he was of me, how I was his pride when I walked up the stage and accept my leadership medal mainly for being company commander in the Citizens’ Army Training… and hearing how he boast to his kumpares that I was accepted to one of the premier universities in Manila. Those too bring great joy to me.

I know I can’t win it all. No one is born that lucky.

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written by A.C. Rupierto weblayout by Lexan Orantes y Bautista for Ystoria.tk a production of Story Tellers Manila

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