Fake It Till We Make It

01

"Dinner?" I echoed.

"Yes, dinner," she repeated. "We can go to one of the restaurants here. Do you want Japanese? We can have that. Somewhere Phoebe can eat within her calorie allowance. You can leave your bags at the package counter of the grocery so you won't have to carry them around."

"But..." I hesitated, trying to think of a way to get out of it. My gut was loudly warning me not to go, with its nervous churning. Or it could be also from hunger, but I didn't really think it appetizing to have dinner with my aunt right now.

"Come on, Ruth," Phoebe said, her hand on my arm, smiling a sweet smile that looked exactly like the one she wore in one of her pre-nuptial photos. "We won't take no for an answer."

* * *

Tita Ellen reminded me a lot of my sister, with the way they both had youngest child privileges. I wouldn't say they were spoiled, but they definitely didn't look like they went through a lot of hard work. Maybe I was just prejudiced, being the eldest child and all, but Tita Ellen had a fondness for superficial things the same way my sister did.

But despite that, she was a very sharp woman. And I got reminded of that the moment the waiter left us after taking our order.

"So, Ruth," she said, leaning her forearms against the table, her fingers intertwined in front of her. "You're still single."

See, sharp. I knew it was too good to be true that she didn't hear what I said earlier. Suppressing a sigh, I forced a smile on my face and mentally prepared myself for the questions I was sure would follow after I answered.

"Yes, Tita." Why is that?

"Oh, darling, why?" she sounded aghast like I had just admitted I was sick or something.

I shrugged. "It's just what it is." But you're so beautiful...

"But you're so pretty! And accomplished!" How can you not have a boyfriend? "How can you still be alone?"

The last bit kind of stung, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I tried to keep my smile as gracious as possible and picked a response from my arsenal. "Because I'm still not rich enough, Tita."

There was a snort beside me, followed by a cough and I glanced at my cousin and smirked a little. 

This wasn't the first conversation of this kind that I had with Tita Ellen, or any other relatives, for that matter. I've already lost count of how many times I was asked this question, not just by them, really but also by clients, and sometimes even strangers. I usually cycled through a set of ready-made answers I had collected throughout the years: Dad didn't allow it yet (only until I graduated from college, and even after then, others were quick to point out that my sister had her first boyfriend by her sophomore year), I need to look after my sister first (only until she turned eighteen, the time when she also got into her first relationship), I'm still saving up, I'm too busy with my studies (until I got my MBA), too busy with work (all the time), too busy with church community (this, too), not in my priorities yet, I still haven't met the one. There were some cousins who joked that maybe I was actually looking for a girl, which horrified some of the more conservative aunts and caused my dad to have an uncomfortable heart-to-heart talk with me. Usually, my list would shut them up, until one by one the excuses reached their expiry dates. I was running out of them, quite frankly, and I was still getting older and the questions kept coming, relentless and unending.

And sitting in front of me was the most relentless of them all.

"Ruth, honey, money isn't everything," she said, making a tsk­-ing sound. "and you don't need to work so hard! Your father provides well for you, and you've made and done so much for your age. How old are you now, anyway? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?"

I thought of telling her the age I told everyone else (I stopped counting at twenty-seven), but I settled for the truth. "Thirty."

"Thirty, and you haven't had a boyfriend since birth?" Tita Ellen gasped, and I winced. "You're almost out of the calendar! Did you know that your cousin, dear Phoebe, met John when she was twenty-two? Now they're getting married. How old are you now, dear?"

Phoebe looked pained and shot me an apologetic look. "Twenty-six, Mommy."

"See!" Tita gestured to her daughter wildly. "She's four years ahead of you! When will it be your turn? When your sister gets married? God forbid!"

My sister Naomi had just turned twenty-two, and I knew that getting married wasn't even on her radar yet. But Tita Ellen was shaking her head, clearly disappointed.

And you know what's really annoying about this? I was starting to feel the same thing for myself.

I told you so! My intuition repeated, sounding both sympathetic and defeated at the same time.

Then Tita Ellen's expression changed as she looked at me. She curled a fist under her chin, gazing at me thoughtfully. "Maybe what you need is a little push."

"What?" I asked. From the corner of my eye, I saw our waiter heading our way with a tray in his hands, and I prayed he'd walk faster so he could deliver the food so we can finally concentrate on dinner and have this blasted evening over with. I didn't like the way Tita Ellen was looking at me, and I was pretty sure I wouldn't like that push she was saying. I just wanted to be a responsible adult today, please. I didn't ask for this.

"So how about this, Ruth," she said, putting a hand on my arm. "I'm going to give you an extra seat for Phoebe's wedding. We still have extras, right darling?"

Phoebe nodded. "About ten more."

"We only need one," Tita Ellen replied, waving her hand. "I want you to bring someone to the wedding."

Oh, that was easy. Maybe Pia or Cara would like to go -

"And by someone, I don't mean just anyone. I want you to bring a boyfriend."

"What?" I almost screeched. Even my cousin looked surprised. "Tita! The wedding is in two months!"

"So?"

"Tita, there's not much time!"

"Right. You don't have enough time," her voice wasn't cold, but it felt like it was, with the way they seemed to stab me right in my chest. "You're not getting younger. You don't have room for a long courtship - or any courtship when you think about it. Don't be choosy - find one, hook him in, and bring him to the wedding. That's what I want you to do."

"But Tita, it's not that easy - "

"Unless you need our help?" she continued, leaning back on her seat just as the waiter arrived and started putting the plates on our table. Her eyes met mine across the table. "I'm sure my sisters would also love to help you out."

Oh, Lord, no way. I shuddered at the thought, remembering the last guy they had introduced to me who ended up bringing me to a multi-level marketing event. Who knows what they would bring to me now?

"Okay," I heard myself say. "Yes, Tita, I'll bring a -" Gulp. "- boyfriend on Phoebe's wedding."