"Dad?" he hears Clara call him from the counter where she is seated. He flips the last pancake onto the plate before turning off the stove. He places the plate before Clara, who refuses to eat until her brother is done changing.
"Yes, sweetheart?" he says while placing a stack of pancakes on her plate, quickly topped with whipped cream and sliced peaches. She inherited Sam's taste buds and pickiness for food, and every time little Miss Clara points out something wrong with her pancakes or the absence of sliced fruit, he feels as though it is Sam who is sitting in front of him. It didn't help either that she looks exactly like her.
She sets aside her sketchbook and pencils before looking him in the eye, her face the epitome of seriousness. It almost had him chuckling. What could bother a nine-year old that much?
"Dad, what's love?" she asks nonchalantly.
The question surprised Eric and for several seconds he didn't have a response. Isn't it too soon to be asking about love? he thinks to himself. He sighs. Sam is the better explainer.
"Dad?"
"Well," he clears his throat, "it's a feeling of wanting to cherish someone." He should've known that the questions won't end there.
"How do you know if you love someone?"
He leans on the countertop. "If you don't want to see them hurt."
"Dad, did you love mom?"
He is taken aback by the question. Their kids are growing up and they're becoming more conscious of their environment. This is a day Eric has been dreading. When he and Sam decided to break things off, Clara was seven and Charlie was 5. They didn't understand why all of a sudden daddy no longer hugged and kissed mommy, or why he had to move to a different house and they had to stay with him from Thursday afternoon until Sunday. But they didn't really ask a lot of questions. Now, Clara is asking him if he ever loved Sam. There is an easy answer: of course, he does, he never stopped loving her. But things aren't as simple as saying I love you or I miss you. If they were, he would've said those words to her on the countless times they've awkwardly met for the sake of the kids.
Lucky for him, his phone rang and Charlie's steps thundered from the staircase, giving him a reason to excuse himself and evade Clara's question.
"No, it's fine. Fax them over so I could go over them," Eric says on the speaker of his phone before dropping the call. Sighing, he slumps on the couch and places his foot on the coffee table across from him, something that Sam would have admonished him for.
Kape ba 'yang paa mo? She would always tell him. A small, bitter smile crosses his face. Sam. She is everywhere he is and in everything he does. Every little thing reminds him of over. How, then, is he supposed to move forward when his heart refuses to leave her behind? He does not have an answer.
His eyes fall on the bookshelf pushed against the wall opposite him. Grunting, he stands up and walks to the shelf where he pulls out a copy of Pride and Prejudice. He gingerly runs his finger on the edges of the cover and opens it only to be met by a wave of nostalgia.
To Sam,
"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
Love, Eric
He traces the inscription on the blank page. He remembers how hard he tried to at least make it legible. He accidentally drenched her first copy with his coffee. She tried to reassure him that it was okay, it was an accident but he saw how sad it truly made her. He knew that something sentimental isn't easily replaced but he had to do something. He ended up calling every Barnes and Noble store whose numbers he could get his hands on until he was able to procure a Collector's Edition and had it shipped to the country. When he gave it to Sam, his heart fluttered. He made her smile, the one where the light radiated from her eyes and the tiny dimple just below her lips became more pronounced.
How he wishes he could make her smile again.
...
"Ayoko na, Eric," she whispers without looking at him. She is seated on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall.
Eric is frozen on the spot where he was standing. "W-what?"
She turns to look at him and his chest burns. Her eyes had lost their usual light. Perhaps, she shouldn't have turned. The dead stare of the shell that used to be Sam was going to haunt him forever, especially since he was the reason why the mirth died out.
"Pagod na 'ko," she murmured, her face wrought with anguish. "I tried. We tried. But every day, we become less than the people we used to be." She looks down and chews at the insides of her cheek before continuing. "I love you." He feels a tiny stirring of hope in his chest. "But it's not enough." It is snuffed out just as swiftly. She sighs. "I'm sorry."
He forces his legs forward until he reaches her. He sits beside her and swallows the lump that had formed in his throat. "Is that what you want, S-sam?" His cracked voice echoed across the room. He has hurt her enough. He doesn't want to see her cry because of him yet again. He holds his breath, hoping and praying that she is only bluffing but when he sees her nod, he knows. They are over. "Okay."
He wishes that he put up a harder fight. He wishes that he didn't agree so easily. But he did and he only has himself to blame.
...
Sam takes one more glance at the rearview mirror before removing her seatbelt and stepping out of the car. She is meeting with her sister, Mara, today for one of their weekly lunches. Her sister insists that they do this but she knows that although her older sister means well, it is also her way of keeping tabs on Sam, especially on days when she is all alone. Loneliness can be such a traitor and Sam has been lonelier these past few years than she ever has been.
Sam enters the restaurant with her bag in one hand and grins when she sees her sister waving at her.
Samara 'Mara' Prieto is a formidable woman. Standing tall at 5'7, she is in every way the big sister who will pounce on anything who threatens Sam. Mara and Sam were born only five years apart but Mara, being the eldest, has always had a protective streak when it came to Sam.
Sam scurries in her direction and plants a kiss on her sister's cheek before settling on the chair opposite her. If she is to be honest, it is quite refreshing to be out of the chokehold of the house for a few hours. Perhaps, Mara knew that Sam is too much of a home buddy to get out of the house by herself even if it means being lonely that's why she insists they go to whatever restaurant she has picked.
"Have you ordered na, ate?" Sam asks while she stows her bag on an empty chair.
"I have," Mara replies. "I got you a Lamb Rack but you can add whatever else you want."
Sam beckons to a waiter. She puts in her additional order and instructs the waiter with her specifications that she failed to notice her sister's eyebrow rising. When she turns, she is immediately met by Mara's scrutinising gaze. Sam squirms in her seat.
"Moving on?" Mara says sharply while gesturing at Sam's hair.
Sam's eyes widened. "W-what? No! Mainit lang," she denies. There is a semblance of truth in what she said. The heat did make her think of snipping her hair but it is more of a symbol to her, a symbol of her broken marriage.
Mara sighs and leans against her chair, making her disdain known. She purses her lips and crosses her arms. Her sister is an intelligent woman. She does not understand why she couldn't comprehend simple pragmatics. Sam and her ex-husband ended things two years ago. They both shouldn't be acting like lost puppies. Mara squints at Sam and says through gritted teeth, "Move on. It's over and done with. You said so yourself." She stands and excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving Sam by the table.
Sam looks at the clenched fists on her lap. She has to clench them so she wouldn't burst into another round of tears. At least the slight burn of her nails against the base of her palm distracts her from the burning in her eyes. After having a deep, shaky sigh, she clenches her hands. Her eyes land on her empty ring finger and the stark hollowness of it all begins to gnaw at her. Her hand flies to the necklace she wears beneath her shirt and clutches at the ring attached to it. She shuts her eyes for a moment and she tries to make sense of what she really, truly wants.
She clutches the ring against her chest tightly and feels the steady beating of her battered heart. I just want it to stop hurting.
...
"Kids, don't run!" Sam calls after the kids who barrelled straight into the house after they got out of the car. Suppressing a smile, she went after them and immediately groaned when she accidentally tripped on the string of black Converse sneakers haphazardly strewn by the main door. "Charlie!" she calls and her little boy peeks through the archway while biting his lips.
"Hi, mama," he says innocently and bats his eyes in nonchalance. Sam almost burst out laughing. Charles feigning innocence has always been an amusing act, one which constantly reminds her of Eric. She didn't have the time to feel sad as the little boy went to her. She kneels down so she's at eye level with him.
"What did mama tell you about leaving your shoes by the door?" Sam prompts gently.
"Do not weave them by the door or I might ouchie," he declares proudly and then realises his mistake. "Oops," he exclaims and covers his mouth with his palm. "Sorry, mama. I'ww pick it up."
Sam smiles at him and pinches his cheek. "Thanks, baby." She watches as the boy deposits his shoes on the rack and runs after her sister in the living room whom Sam is sure is already picking out a book for tonight's bedtime read.
Sam joins them momentarily and she arrives exactly at the two sitting side by side on the floor in front of the shelf. "Hello, love," she greets and sits down beside them. "What are you two doi—"
"Sshh, mama," Charlie interjects. "Ate Cwara is choosing a book."
Sam plays along and whispers, "What does Ate Clara want to read tonight?"
Charlie tugs on his sister's sleeve. "Ate, what do we read tonight?" he asks, excitedly anticipating his sister's response. It's always been like that with the two of them. Charlie would always make Clara choose the story because my ate knows everything!
It didn't take long until Clara decided on Madeleine L'engle's Wrinkle in Time and Sam ushered the two upstairs to wash up for bed. She supposes that it's a good thing that she relented to the fast-food request of the two so she won't have to clean up tonight.
When Sam stepped out of the shower, she saw two little bears comfortably seated on her bed waiting for her. She smiles as she climbs after them and they both settle on each of her sides. She props her back against the headboard and begins reading to them. The two listen intently with wide eyes. Even Sam got a little too engrossed that she missed Charlie's eyes drooping until she heard a little snore beside her.
She chuckles. "We better end here for tonight, love," she says to Clara who is just as enticed as her. "Charlie would throw a fit if he discovers we read without him," Sam whispers conspiratorially.
Clara shakes her head. "We don't want that!"
"You're right. We don't," Sam agrees and moves to close the book but before she could, Clara's hand flies to a certain passage.
"What's this, mama? Le co— I don't know how to read that," Clara complains.
Sam chuckles softly and cards her finger through the little girl's hair. "Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point."
Clara's face scrunches. "What does that mean?"
Sam sighs and smiles sadly. "It means that sometimes, that heart has its own reasons that even reason cannot understand."
Clara stares at her like she grew another head. "But why can't reason understand?"
Sam closes the book and places it on the nightstand before cupping Clara's cheeks. "You'll understand when you're older. For now, you have to go to sleep. You still have class tomorrow." She plants a kiss on the girl's forehead and tucks her under the blanket before putting out the light.
The room is engulfed in shadows only broken every now and then by the moonlight streaming through the window blinds. Sam lies between the two but while they deeply slumber, sleep eludes her.
She has been thinking a lot lately. She has been wondering if her heart has healed enough to let go of the things she cannot keep holding on to, if she is finally strong enough to let go of the hand that may no longer be hers to hold. But every single time, she is left with no answer.
Tonight, she found the answer and it isn't the one she wanted and yet, it may very well be what she has always needed.
Is she ready to let go of Eric? No. Why? She doesn't know, she doesn't understand either but the heart has reasons of which reason knows nothing of. And he holds hers still.