Chapter 8

Larry's room was larger than our sala. There was a TV set, a refrigerator, a shower room and it was air-conditioned. The sliding glass windows overlooking the veranda were half-opened. Similar colored roofs of houses lined up outside like ridges of white hills. The chilly breeze of summer afternoon blew the white curtains and there was tranquility all around.

"Do you have other siblings, Larry?" I asked as my eyes scanned through the vastness of space inside his room.

"I'm an only child." He answered while he searched for something in the drawer.

"Do you think it'll be better if you have a younger sibling or something?"

"Sure it'd be nice to have one. But mom has a weak heart. Her doctor said it was a miracle that I was born. When they found out there's two of us in her womb, they feared her heart would not be able to support a single fetus let alone, two. Her doctor suggested abortion at first but mom did not listen. My twin fused with me in the very early stages of her pregnancy. He saved us, mom and I. When mom knew my twin disappeared, she was devastated. Dad told her she needed to be strong and healthy for me. She did just that and that's how I came to this world. It's a miracle we both survived, another, pregnancy could kill her though. How about you, Florante?"

"Neither." I replied.

"There I was telling you my life story and all I get from you is Neither. Common man you can do better than that ha-ha-ha."

"Siblings are pain in the ass." I said.

"It's part of the package." He replied.

"Does being alone bother you?" I asked.

"I have never felt alone in my entire life, my parents made sure of it. But if you'd ask me if I wish to be alone sometimes, yes, I do. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents and I love to be around people but they can be a pain in the ass sometimes." He answered.

"Part of the package." I quipped.

"Yes, part of the package." He repeated.

"You don't seem to be the loner type." I told him.

"I'm not. I said there are times. Does being alone bother you Florante? You seemed like the type."

"I don't know." I replied.

"You know what, people do not naturally want to be alone. It goes against our nature. If someone says they want to be alone, they often mean the opposite. When people act like they're lost or something, what they really wanted to say is that they want to be found."

Larry stared into my eyes as if he tried to find something there. I looked away afraid he would find something there.

"You're not alone, Florante. Don't be too hard on yourself."

There was a moment of silence between us. But not the awkward kind. I did not mind the silence. Larry could be a mouthful but there were moments when he switched off the talkative Larry and switched on the serious Larry.

"Let's play a game, shall we?" He declared.

"What game?" I inquired.

"Getting-to-know-each-other-game."

"We could just simply ask..."

"Where's the fun in that?" He pushed back. I did not bother to argue anymore. Against Larry, argument is futile.

He set the rules. Rock, paper, stick and scissors. The one who wins would ask the question.

"May I object?" I said as a last-minute protest.

"You're in my house, I set the rules here." He quipped. I rolled my eyes.

The inane game begun. I could not believe I took part in it. It was a very serious game to him. His forehead creased in concentration every time.

Rock. Paper. Stick. And. Scissors.  

He got the stick. I had the paper.

"What's your favorite movie?" He asked right away as if he'd lay down the questions before we could even start the game.

"The Great Dictator."

"The wuutt?"

"One question at a time." I said. He paused for a moment as though he was taking down mental notes.

Rock. Paper. Stick. And. Scissors.

He got the rock. I got the scissors.

"Who is your favorite actor?"

"Charlie Chaplin." I answered.

"The who???"

"Actor of the favorite movie I just told you." I said.

"You're not a complicatedaren't you, Florante Ariza?" He chuckled. I shrugged my shoulders.

Rock. Paper. Stick. And. Scissors.

I got the scissors. He got the rock. He's beating me to the pulp.

He cleared his throat as though something was blocking it. "Who's your first kiss?"

"None."

"Seriously?" I gave him the look that said I'm dead serious.

Rock. Paper. Stick. And. Scissors.

I got the rock. He got the paper.

"This is ridiculous. You're cheating!" I groaned.

"Common now, don't be a sore loser. Now for the next question, do you have someone in particular you'd like to kiss right now?"

"Why are we talking about goddamn kisses!" I squirmed.

"Be a good sport."

You.

"Nobody!"

Rock. Paper. Stick. And. Scissors.

He got the stone. I got the stone. Even.

"You're slowly learning." He narrowed his eyes.

Rock. Paper. Stick. And. Scissors.

Even. Again.

Rock. Paper. Stick. And. Scissors.

He got the stone. I got the scissors.

"You can't be serious!" I complained.

"What are the things you like?"

"I like dogs."

"Any particular breed?"

"Pitt Bulls."

"Ahh, the big'uns!"

Rock. Paper. Stick. And. Scissors.

I got the paper. He got the stone. I won. Finally.

"I dunno what to ask." I told him.

"Common, you can try." He urged.

"Okay. What are the things that you like?"

"In particular?" He probed.

"Anything, I mean random things, I dunno, just answer or pass or whatever so we can end this stupid game already."

"You sure you don't wanna know?" He teased. "Hmmm…I like cats, photography, music, and..." He stopped for a brief moment as if to take a huge breath before the plunge. "And guys..."

"What do you mean guys?" I prodded.

"You, in particular."

We were silent after that. There were no Rock. Paper. Stick. And Scissors. The wind stopped blowing. The birds outside stopped chirping. No questions. No answers. No nothing. Time stopped. The silence intolerable. It rung in my ears like a bell. Like the kind of silence that I felt everyday inside the house for ten years after my father died. The kind of silence when nana's staring at the goddamn flames every morning. The silence you could not ignore. You were, in some way, compelled by the invisible forces of the universe to endure.