Orange

DAY 2 of 10

The roosters woke me up at six-forty. I made my bed and walked to the mirror. After studying my face and brushing my hair, I turned to my room. In one corner was my suitcase; its contents were already stored in my closet. My desk was uncluttered, unlike yesterday when it was a mess of books. I shifted my eyes to my glass-framed award hanging on the wall, and above it, my Holy Cross. I smiled and left my room.

After a shower, I headed downstairs, where Mother had already prepared breakfast. She sat across the table as we ate and asked me what my plans were for the day. I smiled and told her I was tending to her convenience store in San Lorenzo, Bangui’s poblacion. “Get some rest, Mama. You’re losing weight because you’re working too hard.”

It was my mother’s friends who, years ago, suggested she put up a shop. At the time, my father had recently died and Mother was mourning, so her friends hoped a new store would keep her busy, instead of her dwelling on her husband’s passing. Mother initially didn’t like the idea, but her friends pooled money and established a network of suppliers for her. She finally agreed and invested in the store’s construction.

That was Bayanihan, an occasional tradition in the province. People grouped resources to help a friend in need, without expecting anything in return.

In Manila, however, people were selfish, always pulling each other down to get ahead. I was well aware of this reality, and I conformed to this societal norm—in the city, that is. If I got ahead yet hurt others in the process? Too bad.

That guy I met yesterday, Cris—I’m sure he kept to this mentality, too. One look at him said it all: “Me”, “What I want”, and “To hell with the rest of you people.”

IT WAS a slow day at the store. Occasionally, someone would step in for a purchase. I didn’t know all their names, but I knew their faces well enough. It was easy to tell apart locals from outsiders. Take Cris, for instance: His annoying American twang, his somewhat offhand remarks, that semi-patronizing look he gave everything and everyone—a bona fide airheaded foreigner who’d look at a native swine and wonder what kind of dog it was.

It was twenty past three in the afternoon. I was curled up on a chair behind the counter, extremely absorbed with Coleen McCullough’s Caesar, a novel I bought before I left Manila.

As I flipped a page, the door chimes sounded, and a tricycle zoomed by outside.

“Well, well,” said a familiar voice. “So we meet again.”

I looked up from my book.

Of course—Cris. I smiled inwardly.

He was well built and stood at around five feet ten, about four inches taller than me. His short, dark brown hair lay in a slight yet oddly appealing disarray. He looked upon me steadily—his gentle eyes soft, yet his gaze long and deep it’d so easily pierce any incautious woman’s heart. His profile was sharp and handsome; his nose and mouth were perfectly complemented by a finely chiseled jawline.

He walked to the counter, leaned on it, and looked around. “Easy Purchase,” he said, nodding a little. That was the name of Mother’s shop. His eyes ran upon the shelves, the white roofing, the fan spinning slowly above us. “Is all this yours?”

“What’s your name again?” I said.

He feigned shock. “You actually forgot my name?” He shook his head. “Well, I certainly didn’t forget yours, Anna.”

I said nothing and stared at him instead. It was a habit—staring at boys. Especially stupid ones. And once they flinched and avoided my eyes, I already had the upper hand.

But this boy didn’t look away. When he saw me staring, he stared back.

“It’s Cris. Remember? How many times have I told you—Cris Trinidad.”

I looked away, feigning indifference towards his name, wondering nonetheless about Trinidad… a Filipino surname. But why did he look like that—White. Yet also somewhat Asian. And what was his relation to the Philippine senator? Because his car plate…

“So Anna,” Cris continued, “you own this place?”

I glanced at him. “Yes,” I answered, and shifted my eyes to my book. I decided I wasn’t going to prolong this conversation with his ‘Why are you here? Where’s your father, your mother? How long will you be in town?’

“No, you don’t,” he replied. “Your mommy owns this place.”

I stopped reading and looked at him.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled.

I frowned. “And who told you that?”

“Oh, the people. You know—small sleepy town, everybody knows everybody.” He looked away. “It wasn’t all that hard to find you.”

What a disturbing line. In fact, I recalled hearing those words from a movie. Was that Psycho? Silence of the Lambs?

“Really now,” I said. “What else did they tell you.”

A smile played on his lips. His eyes locked into mine. “Well, they can say whatever they want, right? You see, I’d rather get to know you myself.” With that smug grin, he turned away, put his hands behind his back, and looked around the store like a tourist.

With his back turned to me, I had time to take a closer look at him. He wore a loose t-shirt with the imprint NATURAL, tucked in under a pair of Armani jeans. His trim waistline was in perfect proportion to his broad set of shoulders. Given his height, his boyish yet good-looking face, and his excellent physique, Cris was very attractive—if you were the shallow type. As for his attitude—that made him even more interesting. A smug little foreigner in my hometown… I smiled and studied him further.

He continued exploring the shelves. I resumed reading my book. He then returned to me with a pair of six-pack beers. I ignored him.

He placed the six-packs on the counter. “Is that Caesar you’re reading?”

The title was all over the cover, wasn’t it? “Yes,” I said, my eyes never leaving the pages.

“That’s a super thick book! What is it, five hundred thousand pages long?” He bent over to take a closer look. I wanted to pull away; instead, I just kept silent.

“Julius Caesar,” he said, leaning back. “You should read Caesar’s Women. It’s written by the same author.”

I looked at him. “You’ve read her books?”

“Maybe.” He smiled. “You know, Caesar wasn’t just some warmongering Roman general. He was also quite a rock star—in bed.”

I raised my eyebrows. “In bed?!” I scowled. “I’m sorry, why are you even telling me this?!”

He paused, slightly taken aback by my tone. “I… figured maybe you didn’t know that? Well… now you know… I guess?”

I maintained my gaze, shook my head, and returned to my book. This little boy and his dirty little mind… I nonetheless started to wonder whether this novel Caesar had those juicy little bedroom scenes as well… I stopped myself from smiling.

He tapped one of the six-packs. “So, am I just walking away with these, or are you going to charge me.”

I put down my book and took care of his order. I decided to overcharge him, just for fun. “That’s five hundred fifty pesos,” I said and placed his beers in a plastic bag.

He cocked his head. “But your labels say each pack’s a hundred sixty, so that’s only three-twenty total.”

That’s right! I completely forgot about the price tags!

“We… recently changed prices,” I said. “They were a lot more expensive last week. My mistake.” I smiled at him sweetly. He smiled back.

Boys. Always charmed by cute, pretty smiles. I cannot count how many times I’d gotten away with things by flashing this very same smile I was giving Cris.

I was done with his beers and was about to ask for payment when I noticed him studying me.

“What,” I said.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?”

I gave him a smirk. “Three hundred twenty?” I stuck out my hand for the money.

“Let’s have some dinner when you’re done here.”

“Let’s… what?” I retracted my hand.

“I’m asking you out?” He grinned. “This isn’t the first time a guy’s asked you out, right?”

I rolled my eyes and reached for my book.

“What’ll it be?” he asked.

“I said, three hundred twenty pesos.”

“What, for the date?”

I frowned at him. “Why in the world should I go out with you!”

“Because…” He started gauging me, assessing my mood. I made sure he read extreme displeasure all over my face!

“Because what.” Glare at him, Anna! Look him in the eye! Show him you’d rather jump off a cliff than date him!

“Well, because…” He was stammering. My expression was working wonders.

He finally found his words. “Well, what should I do? Pass by and say, ‘Hey, Anna. From yesterday, right? This is your store? Now how cool is that, us meeting again ‘by chance!‘ By the way, got any beer?’ And then, I’d swing by tomorrow and say, ‘Hey, Anna! I forgot to get trash bags for home yesterday. How are you?’ And then, I’d return the day after and say, ‘Anna, got any pickup lines I could use on you? Because I kind of ran out.’ Is that what you want?”

Pickup lines. How mildly funny. I gave him an equally mild smile.

He wasn’t smiling at all. He seemed very serious! “Look, I’m just being me here. I’m not playing any games.”

He wasn’t playing games? I found that very hard to believe.

“If this world’s in black and white,” he continued, “I am in full color. You’re seeing exactly what there is.”

I nodded. “Yes, you are oddly different from everyone else, Cris.”

He rolled his eyes. “Look—will you go out with me, or not.”

“Why?”

“Well, why not?”

What a witless answer. “Don’t give me that. I asked you a question. Answer it.”

“No, I asked you first, so you answer me first.”

I narrowed my eyes. Now that was stupid, Cris. What are we, twelve?

I nonetheless looked away and gave the impression I was considering his offer. The truth, however, was I didn’t know what to say. His ‘black and white’ question forced me to give an equally ‘black and white’ answer—yes or no.

If I told him about… No; he likely wouldn’t care about him and ask me out regardless. And if I told him I wasn’t into boys? An amusing thought, but that wouldn’t work. He’d be more intrigued and ask my would-be girlfriend out as well.

“What’ll it be, Anna?”

I was considering every angle of this situation. I could say yes, agree to meet him in an extremely faraway place but not show up. Or what if…

He sighed in exasperation. “Jesus, you think we’ll fall in love and then I’ll break your heart?! What’s wrong with you!”

I looked at him in complete surprise. Where on earth did that come from! Who does he think he is!

“We’re just hanging out,” he continued. “What a big frickin’ deal.”

So, that’s what this was all about, wasn’t it…

“Fine,” I said.

He smiled. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

I smiled back but didn’t reply.

He paid for his beers and took the bag. “I’ll be back at six.”

I nodded.

“Later, Anna.”

He left the store, the chimes sounding lightly at the entrance. My eyes followed him as he walked away.

Let’s see who breaks whose heart, Cris.