TBBM XII. The One Who Can't Move-On

"See, I was trying to do good," his voice was really loud in excitement. I couldn't overtalk him. "You just judged me, like that. Easy pissy. All this time, I thought you were nice and meek, actually."

I watched Red as he overwhelmed me with his arguments. He sounded less contemptuous this time. And his face, it looked really bright. I couldn't stop laughing along with him as he went on, talking. This Red was far too different from the one back in school. Somehow, I wished he was like that all the time.

+++

I didn't realise it but I'd fallen asleep.

I knew I wasn't waking up in my bed---this was way too soft and comfortable to be my bed. I rubbed my face gently against the cushion and the comforter: it felt nice and soft.

But one thing, it felt like it was stuck somewhere. I kept pulling on it but it seemed like it was stuck somewhere heavy. I pulled it towards me, even harder.

"You're bloody impossible," I heard somebody murmuring behind me. "It's not your comforter!"

I opened my eyes and noticed I was at the brink of the bed. I knew then, it wasn't a dream---I was in Red's room. But the strange thing about it was that I didn't feel uncomfortable or threatened anymore by the idea of him.

He was lying on his chest, oblique to the bed, under the covers. The situation didn't look very promising for me so I drew the comforter towards me again as it was cold. Why was he even next to me in the first place? He said, he'd be in the couch.

I pulled it hard but he would not relent.

"Are you starting a fight?" he murmured under the covers.

"Why did you sleep here with me?" I whacked him with a pillow. "You said you'd be in the couch."

"I'm sleepy, Hicks. Don't try and start with me," he warned.

"You're not even supposed to---"

"I'm darn tall," he cut me. "Do you honestly think I'd fit in there? Go there, if you want."

"Give it to me, then---" I said, grabbing on the covers. But as I pulled it, he towered on me,topless. He was really toned. "Oh my God!"

"What?" he asked casually, as he reached for the string of the window blinds behind me. He launched himself like that again, confidently. "It's just body."

Body. Just body. Somebody who looked good like him, in the right body, would never understand how much it meant to people like me.

"Honestly," I moved away. "Can you not do that? I'm a girl."

"Do what?" he chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "Why? Do I make your heart flutter?"

I struck him with the bolster. His air was back again. He was making me very nervous.

"Go away," I told him.

"Away? Oh, it's your house now?"

I kept striking him with the pillow as it started to be awkward. I swung to the left, then to the right. He just lied there without fighting back, trying to go back to sleep, until I was able to take the covers. I snagged it swiftly, causing him to fall down on the floor---the banging noise echoed through the nearby rooms.

"Red! No!" I cried as he fell. "I'm sorry."

"Ouch," he bellowed in pain as I helped him sit up, resting his head on the bed. We were like that last night. I smiled at the memory of a peaceful moment.

"Oh, you're actually happy?" he wailed. "I shouldn't have been nice to you."

"Are you alright?" his nose was bleeding. I stood up, hoping to find something I can dry the blood with. "I'll go find---"

"Don't leave," he grabbed me on my wrist again and dragged me down. I half-expected him to get mad and shout at me. But he was just deep in thought.

Don't leave---I could not wrap my head around how exactly I felt every time he said that. But it bizarrely felt warm. I leaned his head back on the bed as he stared openly at the ceiling, saying nothing; his right arm, holding me down, next to him.

"Sir Red, what happened?" in no time, the maids rushed into the room to check on the noise. They still wore colour-coded uniforms---which I thought was pretty. They sounded really worried of him until they saw us on the floor, amid an unsightly chaos around us.

"All good," he gave them a thumbs up in the air before they could even come closer.

The maids looked at each other, mouthing inaudibly.

"Morning romance," I heard them whisper to each other, giggling. The head maid gave me a furtive glance before they all disappeared. And the door shut behind them.

"Ouch, my head," he complained again.

"I didn't mean to---" I said, as I wiped his blood with the shirt I was wearing. "Why did you let yourself fall? It's not like I'm stronger than you."

"`Cause your ugly," his attention shifted back at me. "I should let you win, sometimes."

I continued on with wiping the blood on his nose with my shirt---his shirt, technically, since I just borrowed it. If he were nice in real life... or better yet, if he were James, it'd probably look romantic. He was supposed to be mad at me now, but he looked pleased, somehow.

Romantic.

"What?" he asked as I stopped. "Morning romance. The maid said morning romance. Do you think---"

"No way," he fought off laughter. "They probably thought you raped me."

"Oh my Saint," I moved away, as the dawning realisation occured to me. I was shaking my head. "My name. My reputation. My pride. You don't even measure up to my James."

"Your James?" he jeered. "Does he even know?"

"I'm sure he heard me a few times."

"And, did he say it back?"

"S-said what back?"

"Poor little chick, dreaming," he retorted, looking annoyed. "Don't ever dream, Hicks. No one's ever gonna like you."

I pouted. He decided he wanted to be mean, again.

+++

He turned the TV on soon as the breakfast arrived. Apparently, he used to have his meals brought over to his room in a food cart.

To me, that looked really lame and lazy but how could I ever call a guy with that toned body lazy? He must be spending hours in the gym.

It was past ten in the morning. The news had it that the storm had gone past our city last night but we were still expecting heavy rains althroughout the day. Also, it occurred to me that I'd been here with Red since yesterday.

"No!" I shrieked. "I forgot to tell my mother that I wasn't coming home. She must be really worried now."

"She looks for you?" he asked, clearly amazed.

"Of course," I answered casually. "Why wouldn't she? Parents do worry."

"Nothing," he dismissed, chewing on the toast. He had a big appetite. "It's dangerous out at night. But it's only dangerous when your pretty... or rich, you know?"

"You really can't handle not being mean, can you?" I murmured, half-beaten. "I want to go home now."

"No," he ruled.

"I'm serious," I grabbed him by his sleeves. "My mother's gonna kill me. I can't text her---my phone got soaked yesterday."

Just then, I heard a car running in the garage, as it did, I also heard the maids greeting somebody. I ran towards the window to see what it was. It still rained hard outside.

"Who?" I asked him.

"Why did it have to be now?" he ran his palm through his face, annoyed. "Hicks, are you ready?"

I stared at him, emptily. I couldn't exactly follow what was going on.

"Ready? I mean, can you tell me first who just arrived?"

"Yes? No?" he grabbed me again by the wrist, chuckling. "Police. I remembered you stole 5k yesterday. You messed with my phone. Now, you're wearing clothes that aren't yours. And also... you're ugly."

My heart skipped a beat. I wasn't sure how much of it was because of what he said and how much of it was because he was holding me again.

"Behave yourself, or they would handcuff you."

"I didn't steal anything," I complained as we headed down the stairs. I had no recollection of the downstairs whatsoever. I must have gone really bad yesterday. "You brat! You gave it to me as payment, why should I---"

"Just follow me, Hicks," he ordered, unpleasantly joyous as he tightened his grip on me. "Don't struggle free. You can't."

We stopped at the foot of the giant staircase. They had a really high ceiling and an obvious abundance of space. Everything looked beautiful. The door swung open. He slung his right arm over my shoulders, to my neck.

"Mom, Dad," he began as they approached us.

They were his parents.

His mother looked really fashionable and elegant. Her hair was tied up revealing the entirety of her face. She smiled, amid her tired-looking eyes and facial lines.

His dad looked older than his mother. Evidently, Red shared his dad's good built. His hairs were turning gray, but that only made him look wise and attractive. He smiled as he held his wife gently by the waist to the dining table.

Both of them sported a warm aura---in huge contrast to their son's. I hoped he really was their son.

"My son," his mother acknowledged him. "I see you brought a girl over?"

"We're classmates, mom," he answered back.

"It's true they have allot of pretty girls out there," his dad commented. "Can you argue?"

"P-pretty?" Red stuttered, gagging. "Not very, but... if you say so."

I elbowed him.

"Awww," he groaned, tightening his arm around my neck so I wouldn't disagree with him. "Be nice to me, Hicks. Just now. Just this time."

"I've always been nice---I can't breathe."

"If you say something wrong, I'll stop being nice to you," he whispered. "They will ask you questions, just... tag along with me, okay?"

"I don't understand," I tried to wriggle out of his arms---impossible.

"Red," his mom called us at the dining table. "Come over here now. Stop bullying your classmate! For Heaven's sake, she's a girl."

"My son's still brash and immature," his dad took me away from him and sat me on the chair by the table. "I hope you forgive his habits."

I nodded, half-smirking. I slowly picked up on the situation. It seemed that Red's parents were just like any other parents---they were curious about their son's doings.

Red sat next to me. I moved my chair a bit farther. He dragged me back.

The table was loaded with food---almost as if it was somebody's birthday. In close contrast, we only had food this much during local feasts.

"So," his mother greeted me. "What's your name, Miss?"

"M-me?" I asked, startled.

"Who else?" Red grunted, shaking his head.

"I'm---"

"Jopet. You can call her Jopet," Red cut me. "Or... you can also call her Hicks."

The doom descended. I pinched him by the ribs. He shrugged it off.

"Hicks?" his dad furthered.

"Ahhh..." I struggled for an excuse. "Nothing, Sir. Doesn't mean anything. It's just a pointless nickname."

This stupid boy planned to dispel my secret once more.

"I swear if you dare say it, I'll take my revenge," I whispered to him.

"Let's eat. Shall we?" Red seemed delightfully challenged. He reached over for the meals and piled them on my plate. "I don't want Hicks to be so hungry. Right, Hicks? Hicks, answer me."

I felt chills climbed up my spine every time he called me, Hicks. I kicked him from under the table.

"This bloody tastes well," he flinched, evil eye-ing me. "Don't you agree, Hicks?"

I kicked him again as I moved my chair slowly away from him. He pulled me back. I was getting so embarrassed by our muffled movements by the dinner table. His parents seemed to take notice but they just let us be.

"I'm sorry, Miss... Hicks?" his mother watched us pleasantly.

Red chortled.

"J-jopet... is actually better," I corrected her.

"I see," his mother accepted. "You two seem really close---"

"Yes!---" "No!---" Red and I blurted at the same time. Red stuck his elbow out to my ribs, forcefully.

"Are you really friends back in DLSU?"

"No!---" "Yes!---" I and Red answered at the same time again. I kicked him.

"Hon," his mother looked pleased. "Look at these two."

"It's good our son had made a friend," his father replied. "We were really worried about him transferring. Now, we can rest."

"Our son wasn't very sociable, you know?" his mother said---

"Agree," it slipped my mouth.

Red poked me with his elbow even harder. I kicked him, in return. He flinched as he was drinking.

"You noticed, too?" his mother spoke really softly. "I'm sorry if he comes out as cold sometimes, but in truth, he's really warm and loving."

I gawked at his mother as she said that. There was no way for her son to be any kind of loving.

"Actually," I cleared my thoat. Red was giving me his killer stare. He couldn't really shut me up in front of his parents, so I took the opportunity. "The cold... and mean, I agree to. But I'm not sure with the loving part."

"I'm sure he just needs some time to warm up," his mother convinced. "Give him time, okay? I'm sure he'll start to show his caring side, soon--- especially to you."

Red choked. I laughed inside me.

"Mmmmm," I pondered. Red grabbed my left arm, trying to control me. "Okay, let me tell you---"

"Say Aaaahhh," Red's spoon was suddenly in front of my face. He held my left arm down so I couldn't fight him as he spoon-fed me relentlessly, stifling my story away. I was determined to tell them all the hardships I experienced in their son's hand. "C'mon, don't be shy, you pretty girl."

I was shaking my head as my mouth overfilled in food. I couldn't take it anymore but he wouldn't stop, really. So I fed him, too---in even larger amounts. He couldn't really dismiss me in front of his parents. Apparently, he wanted to play the good son card, so he obliged.

Strangely, his parents watched us, looking really pleased.

"Miss Jopet," his mother smiled. "You can come here anytime you want, okay?"

"Yes, you should consider this your second home," his father added. "We worried we were leaving him alone so much. I'm sure he could use some company. I mean, I trust that you are accountable kids and you won't do intimate adult things..."

I was getting lost at where his father's talk was going.

"But if you come across doing it, just use protection," he whispered.

"Mateo!" Red's mother stopped him. "They are kids."

"Kids you're saying? Our son's twenty-one years old, Sylvia."

"You're gross, Dad," Red moved his chair farther away from me. "It's Hicks, c'mon!"

"I'm not your son's type, I'm sure," I uttered, under my breath.

"Of course. Right!" Red cleared his throat.

We both stopped eating, watching his parents as they exchanged looks. It was suddenly very awkward. It was awkward partially because it was his father talking about it. It was awkward because Red---I didn't really know him that well. It felt like I knew him now, a little bit, the real him. But that shouldn't be good enough, should it.

Best of all, it was awkward because I hadn't really given it any thought. I consciously blocked the idea of physical intimacy from my head. Obviously, I couldn't engage myself into such things until I attained the right form of my body.

It made me nervous---strangely, very nervous.

"I wasn't saying this only because I'm his mother," she gathered our attention again. "But our son lost interest in everything since his last break up, so I'm just really happy---"

"Mom!" Red reacted heavily, trying his best not to shout. "Why would you tell her that?"

"Son, calm down. I'm just saying we've been really worried since you got suspended from racing and you transferred schools and---"

"Mom! Enough!" he stood from his seat, glaring. He looked really flustered. "Hicks, she's listening---that's too personal."

Red shook his head in utter upset. He looked at me as I watched his cool dissipate from his face.

"Enough, Mom. I told you not to treat me as broken," he clinched his fist.

He walked away, up to his room again.

The dining room was quiet for a minute.

Flustered by the commotion, I sat there wordlessly, with my hands on my lap. I didn't know Red was sensitive like that. I used to just know him as the heartless one. But now, a part of me ached for him, for his unrequited love. To be perfectly honest, who could guarantee that I wouldn't end up like that, too. Red, without his indifference, seemed all perfect, yet, he still got dumped. That was probably why he could bluntly tell me that I would never be liked by anyone.

"What do I know?" I murmured.

"Family drama, huh?" his father invited. "Shall we, finish our meal?"

The rain fell hardly on the ground as we, three, sat there talking. His parents were keen in getting to know me. I told them I just ended up in their home by accident. It was a sigh of relief that contrary to what I watched in movies, they were rich but never inconsiderate: in fact, they were very warm and accommodating. If they hadn't been like that, I doubted I could sty much longer in that table.

"Just a moment," his mother recalled. "About a month ago, he was telling us about somebody in his class---somebody with a birthmark or something? Where'd he say that birthmark was?"

"Behind," his father remembered. "In the bum. Yes, I guess I'm right!"

Suddenly, my secret was out. How could he be talking about me back in his home.

"Yeah, I think so, too," his mothered agreed. "He said she kept him entertained. I don't know what he meant when he said entertained. But, we wondered if we could like, invite her over or something?"

I found no reason to hide it anymore. They won me over by their kindness.

"I'm afraid that's me," I raised my hand, ashamed. Entertained? What? He took me for a circus? He was so annoying.

"Oh, dear," his mother apologised. "I didn't mean anything bad---"

I nodded, beaten.

"You see," his father trailed off. "Our son, he can be difficult, obviously. But we can tell he was depressed. He hardly ever smiled again since the break up with Stephie. We were almost always away when he was growing up, even now, actually. Then Preppy left him. Then Stephie---"

"P-preppy?" I asked.

"Yes," his mother answered. "We had a gay attendant before who looked after him as he grew up. He was very good at what he did. Red grew up well. But one day, he just handed in his resignation, without explaining much. Red took that hard as a kid. Then, he became less enthusiastic."

"We went to several psychiatrists," his dad went on. "But they couldn't find anything wrong with the kid. He even aced his studies. We were told to just let him find something he'd take interest in. So we let him study anything he liked. He switched courses. He looked bored, frankly. Then he raced. He was happy. When he met Stephie, he became even happier."

"We hope that you will keep him company as much as you can," his mother held me by the hand. "You're our only hope, now."

Suddenly, the weight of this discussion shifted on me.

You're our only hope, now.

You're our only hope, now.

His mother's words echoed in my ear.

+++

My mother never re-married despite my father running away with another woman. She said she hated him for a while, but eventually, she just got through it. She said the love never really disappeared, it just changed form.

For a child who grew up in a set up like that, I knew so well the importance of moving on: even when it got lonelier; even when it got more difficult. It was that craving for freedom from sadness and hopelessness that actually propelled many.

I knocked on Red's door as the rain rattled loudly on the roof. He didn't seem to have heard. So I came in, uncertain of how I might find him.

It was almost four in the afternoon.

"I want to be alone," he said, slurred. The room smelled like alcohol. He was lying on the floor with three bottles of beer. He was sweating despite the cold.

"I think I'll just leave now," I declared, uncertain of myself, as I made him lean to the foot of the bed.

He looked at me, half-awake.

"Stephie?" he suddenly embraced me. "Don't leave me, please. I beg of you."

He must be really in pain. I remembered judging him before, as I caught him drinking and skipping school altogether. I felt bad. He clung to me like a baby---very far from his usually strong and nonchalant front.

"I'm... not Stephie. Stupid boy," I corrected him, trying to sound non-permissive, as I tapped his back gently. "You shouldn't get wasted too much, you know?"

Dub dub. Dub dub.

Dub dub. Dub dub.

My heart was racing again. But he stayed on like that, as he kept on calling her ex-girl's name.

"Stephie, don't leave me," he begged and begged until I felt tears trickling down on his cheeks. I felt really bad for him. I wished he'd just go back to being the contemptuous one.

We continued on like that as I lulled him to sleep. It was a rainy day, in the big, however, seemingly lonely place of the McIntyres.