Inked Star

six.

   Nothing special necessarily took place when Cairo and I ate. It was mostly filled with comfortable silence, peppered with questions here and there.

"Were you not scared when you resigned?" I began, after giving it some thought. I was aware it was a personal question, but there was a curiosity at the back of my mind that I wanted satiated. He said he had to disappoint his parents a little. Still, I wondered how Cairo processed that decision himself.

He smiled, and after swallowing his food, he said, "I resigned scared."

"But you did it anyway."

"I did," he said. "I couldn't stomach it anymore, and I knew a few months of being broke was much better than staying in that profession."

"Was it that bad?"

"Architecture just isn't for me, Aster."

I tilted my head to the side. "Why?"

He paused, and then he looked at me. He idly twisted the handle of his spoon with his right hand. He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly as if responding to my previous gesture.

"I started to dislike the person I was becoming," he said. "So, I left."

I wanted to know more. I wanted to ask further—to dissect his words and understand what was hidden between the lines.

But all I managed to say was, "That's really brave of you."

"You're brave, too," he remarked.

"How so?"

"You also walked away, didn't you?" he nodded at me. "And you commemorated it with a tattoo."

🌻

I messaged Cal to tell him of my whereabouts. Much to my surprise, all he returned was a thumbs-up emoji instead of his usual questions. I assumed it was because he already knew Cairo.

We somehow ended up in his garage after talking about his painting. The nostalgic smell of turpentine and concrete greeted me the moment he lifted the steel door from the bottom. It slid up, and he stepped inside first to turn the lights on before inviting me in.

I looked around, amazed by the number of blank and filled canvases alike.

"You really like creating," I blurted out.

He looked at me, with one eyebrow raised, and smiled. "But you do, too."

"I do?" I echoed.

"Yeah," he looked up thoughtfully. "Were we sophomores at that time? You were always writing."

I fell silent.

"Oh," he blurted out. "You must be wondering how I knew. You were always in the library, writing in that notebook of yours."

I smiled. "I see."

"Were those stories? Poems?"

"Both," I said. Something got caught in my throat when I said that. It was the first time I had opened that part of my adolescence up to someone. To be fair, I don't think my ex knew what my hobbies and interests were when I was still in my teens.

"I wanted to write a book," my ears felt hot when those words emerged from my mouth. "No...I want to write a book."

"What's keeping you from doing just that?" Cairo asked.

I sighed. "I'm thirty."

"So? Time will pass, anyway."

He gave me a small canvas and a plastic plate, along with tubes of paint.

"Are you running a daycare now?" I teased.

He chuckled. "Just in case you get bored. Do you mind if I play some music?"

"No, I don't."

He commanded Alexa, and the playlist I curated began to fill the room. I watched Cairo work away, his eyes fixated on the canvas before him. The sunshine streaming through the skylight made his bleached hair shimmer.

It was a little after noon when Cairo asked if I was hungry. I said I didn't mind eating. He was somewhat amused by my answer, but he didn't comment on it. He just smiled.

"I'm craving fast food. Should we go to Jollibee?"

"We're covered in paint," I remarked.

"Who cares?"

Who cares?

I did. I was overly conscious of what others would think about me. Perhaps, that was one reason why I restrained myself from doing things I had always wanted for so long.

🌻

It was dusk when Cairo dropped me home. I asked him if he wanted to eat dinner at our place, but he politely declined, saying he had to finish the painting by tonight so he could deliver it to his client before going back to Manila.

He waited for me to lock the gate behind me before heading home. When I entered our house, Cal was in the kitchen, guarding the pressure cooker on the stove. We were having bulalo.

"I'm surprised you didn't spam me with messages earlier," I said.

"Oh, that," Cal looked at me with a mischievous flicker in his eyes. "It's because Cairo already messaged me that he was going to spend the day with you."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "When did he do that?"

"Before you left the house."

"What am I, fifteen?" I muttered, while walking over to the fridge to grab a drink.

"You're blushing like you're fifteen," Cal teased. "From the looks of it, you had fun today."