Bad habits have a way of manifesting especially when one is anxious. Sam is no exception. It's something that she has tried to shake off through the years but she's never been successful in her attempts to keep herself from biting her nails. Her sister would always tell her that it's gross but for some reason, it diverts her anxiety. But today, her bad habit resurfaces but it does not abate her tumultuous state.
She is lost in her thoughts when she is jolted back to the present by a sharp pricking sensation in her finger and she sees that the nail bed of her index finger is bleeding. She sighs and pulls her chair back a little to retrieve the small first aid kit she has stowed away on her desk. She is, after all, a mother of two rowdy, hyperactive children and sometimes, injuries just happen out of nowhere and it pays to have a first aid kit lying around. Today, it serves her purpose.
I'm a nutcase, she jokes to herself upon seeing the state she has driven herself into. Her day started casually, in fact, she was even enthusiastic about it. Today is going to be a great day, she declared after she drove the kids to school. One phone call is all it took for all her optimism to circle down the drain.
Her editor called to inform her that someone from the National Commission for Culture and the Arts, the Philippine PEN's roster of writers couldn't make it due to a personal emergency and in a last-minute effort to fill in the spot, they reached out to them. It wouldn't have been a problem if the conference was held in Makati or BGC or if outside Metro Manila, they could've given her some time to prepare arrangements for her kids. However, the conference will be held in Cebu and the worst part of it all, it was going to be on the day after tomorrow. Her editor, Lea, had insisted that she go, especially since they are preparing to publish her second book.
It's good publicity. We'll be expanding your audience in the regions, Lea told her thru the phone, leaving no room for argument.
As it was, Sam called her sister to ask if she could leave Clara and Charles with her, only to find out that she and Martin are on an out of town trip while her nephew, Zach, has a school trip, so there was no one left to hold the fort down. No one except him. And that's what's been hindering her from being productive the entire day.
Their set-up has gone on without a hitch in the last two years but she is feeling apprehensive as ruminates on the thought of asking Eric for a favour. They're also his kids. Surely, he'll be overjoyed at the prospect of spending the rest of the week with them? She reasons with herself. But every time it seems logical, she finds herself staring at her phone screen, unable to patch the call to him. Just do it, you big baby. Just press the call button for god's sake, she scolds herself silently.
Her eyes land on the time stamp of her phone and momentarily gives up on the thought of calling Eric to ask him for a favour. She sighs and leaves her office to pick up the kids. Reserving her energy for an uncomfortable conversation tonight, she acquiesces to the request of the kids for drive-thru.
After a bout of ruckus arguing and indecisions, they finally drive home with each kid holding a Happy Meal box on their laps and the smell of fried chicken filling the car. It didn't take long until they reached home and the kids rushed into the house before her. She helps them settle on the dining table and puts off the call, justifying that she is having dinner with the kids first.
But then, dinner flew by before she knew it and the two prepared for bed. But while doing so, Sam is left alone in her own devices and she knows that there is no other time than the present to call her... ex-husband? That didn't sound or feel right. What is Eric to her? The father of her children, most definitely. But he was also her best friend, a partner in crime, and better half, once upon a time. Now, she isn't sure what he is, or more accurately, what they are but the thought of him becoming an ex, a thing of the past, left a bitter taste on her tongue.
Asawa mo pa rin siya, Sam, the logical voice in her head goes. And for all legal intents and purposes, the voice is right. They may be living separately, have mostly stopped being husband and wife, and their interaction limited to co-parenting, in the eyes of the law, they are still married— something which annoys Mara to no end. She insists that Sam and Eric should iron out their lives and file for divorce since they have separated but neither has done anything. Mara has tried countless times to persuade Sam to make the first move but something always holds Sam back.
Nobody enters a marriage to willingly be miserable, Mara would always tell Sam. Nobody expects to be separated but both of you are drawing out the process unnecessarily. Pull the plug, file for divorce, and be done with it!
Sam always ends up diverting the conversation.
Is she in denial? Perhaps.
But she also knows that the little organ as big as her fist residing in the centre of her chest still skips a beat upon hearing Eric's name and two years apart has not done anything to tamp it down. She loves him. She knows she does and it is not merely nostalgic bliss holding her back. She loves him and divorcing him would slap her with the reality that they both gave up on a love that is supposed to last.
What if you tell him that you still love him? That's a question that she keeps on asking herself. But tonight, she laughs bitterly at herself. Talking with him used to be so easy that it almost felt like second nature. She would always tell him good morning, they would always talk quietly while preparing breakfast, they would share breathless whispers, he would tell her, I love you. Now, she couldn't even bring herself to pick up the phone to ask him if he could watch over the kids two days earlier than their schedule because she has to fly to Cebu.
If they are still together and everything is fine, she wouldn't have this problem. He'd come home from work with take-outs and the kids would come running to meet him while screaming daddy! She would playfully raise an eyebrow at his choice of food but Eric would hold her lovingly and pepper her face with kisses.
He would then whisper, "Ga, minsan lang naman." She would shake her head and not bat an eye over the fact that it is the second time that week that he brought home takeout. They'd all gather by the dinner table, the colouring books forgotten by the den, and he would make sure that the drumstick (her favourite part) makes its way on her plate.
It is routine. Or at least, it used to be because everything is not fine, she couldn't talk to him without feeling like a dam inside her would fall apart, and the pain never ebbs or dulls, it grows more paralysing for every day that passes. And yet, she doesn't dare to tell him that she loves him and she misses him so much and that all she wants is for him to hold her, even just for one night.
Will one night of pretending really be enough? She fears the answer because if it turns out that it isn't and she is almost certain that if it isn't indeed, she would find herself tipping over the precarious balance that she has convinced herself is what allows her to survive.
She didn't realise that she had been crying until her phone rang and she was brought back to reality. Her breath hitches as she sees his name on her screen. She takes a few seconds to compose herself and clear her throat so he wouldn't notice that she'd been crying. She doesn't want to seem pathetic. She is a strong person and she will not cave. Not tonight. She couldn't afford it tonight.
"Hello?" she says through the phone with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Give it to the universe to provide an answer to her problem.
She couldn't bring herself to call him? No problem. He'll call her then. There is an absurd joke somewhere out there and it would have been funny if she weren't the subject of it but alas!
"Sam? Am I audible?"
She hears his voice through the speaker and realises that she zoned out. Clearing her throat, "I'm sorry, I transferred my laptop," she reasons lamely. "What was that?"
"I was wondering if it would be okay na the kids would spend tomorrow and the day after with me? May bring your kids to work program kasi ang HR. I know I'd be cutting on your time with them so babawi nalang ako next week and cut my time also? If it's okay with you?"
A sense of relief floods Sam. "It's okay. Don't worry about next week. I was about to call you nga rin to ask if the kids could stay with you bukas and the day after that because something came up and I have to fly to Cebu tomorrow."
"Oh," she hears him say. "Well, if that's the case, don't worry about it. Ako ang bahala!" he says enthusiastically and it brings a smile on her face— small but a smile all the same. "And Sam?"
"Hmm?" she hums in response.
"Break a leg," he whispers through the speakers of the phone, something which undeniably had her smiling.
If everything were okay, he would be the first person to tell her that she could do it, he would be rooting for her and in her moments of hesitation, he'd be the first person to tell her to go for it!
Everything is not okay but despite that, he's still the first person to tell her to reach for the stars, the first to tell her that she could do it with unwavering faith, regardless if it was unwittingly done. Maybe some things are simply meant to remain.
...
"Ate?" Eric starts while the stoplight is red. He picks up the kids from school and they are driving to his condominium when he finally decides to spit out the words he'd been chewing on. "Is mom busy?"
Clara, in her surprise, whips her head towards him. It is the first time he's asked explicitly about her mom in the past two years. "Yeah," she answers curtly and continues to play with her ragdoll.
Eric clears his throat. "Do you have any idea what she's doing in Cebu?" he continues. He knows he's fishing for information but he couldn't help it. It must have been extremely important for her to fly out there so maybe he is a little (really?) curious about it (her).
Clara, choosing to ignore the out of place nature of the question, answers with nonchalance. "Book conference. Maybe a book signing a little after." She places her ragdoll beside her and turns to face him. "Why are you asking, dad?"
Eric, flustered by her question, swerves the conversation. "Oh, look. The light's green!" he exclaims and steps on the gas, confusing the little girl. He remains silent the rest of the ride back to his condo.
Cebu is his hometown and all the times he brought Sam there with him are reminders that there was once a time that they were the happiest together. He could distinctly remember bringing her there for a spontaneous out of town trip.
...
Samantha is not scared of heights. She's fine with riding elevators to towering heights. But being inside the safety of glass and standing at 37 floors of open-air are two different things. She has been muttering curses under her breath as Eric drags her to Crown Regency. She thought they were just going to have dinner. She didn't know what she agreed to and it was too late when she realised that the lift they were riding was going higher than the hotel's restaurant and well into the Skywalk.
He helped her put on an orange suit and while she was a little confused, she didn't put up much of a fuss. That is until the harnesses were being attached to her. Her eyes widened and she almost shrieked when she saw that they were heading towards the skywalk.
"Eric, what the fuck?!" she whispers angrily at him while dragging her feet in protest.
He looks at her playfully. "Come on, Langga. We're walking in the skies," he says with a wink.
She discreetly moves closer to him and pinches his side. "I didn't go here para mamatay!" she whisper-shouts.
"Aray!" he exclaims and rubs the spot she just pinched. "Eto naman. Hindi ka naman mamamatay diyan. 'Di pa nga tayo kasal kaya 'di pa pwede." She scoffs at him. "Pina-triple check ko 'yang harness mo tas nandito naman ako. Kelan ba kita binitawan sa ere?"
It gave her comfort because she had a definitive answer. Never. He's never let go of her hand. So despite her initial apprehension, she allows herself to be dragged to the skywalk that allows her to see the panoramic skylines of Cebu just as the sun is setting.
"Upo tayo, ga," he invites and leads her to the ledge.
Her knees still shaking from the sheer height of their location, she grabs his hand as he helps her settle down beside him, their legs hanging down the ledge. She carefully moves closer to him and they spend several minutes basking in the beauty of the picturesque horizon glinting in oranges and reds bleeding away into violets.
"Not so scary, ano?" Sam hears Eric whisper. With a small smile, she nods. Even if it was the scariest thing in the world, she is less scared because she knows there is someone beside her who will never let go. She lays her head against his shoulder and clutches his hand between hers, her fingers intertwined in his. Her hand is relatively small compared to his but she liked it. It felt like being embraced every time he held her hand, her fingers carefully tucked between the spaces of his, a perfect fit, a hand made for her to hold.
"Langga?" she hears him.
"Yes?"
"Look up. The edge coaster looks thrilling," he whispers. She did as he told him and swallowed the huge lump that formed in her throat when saw the ride above them. A coaster was perched at the edge of the rails, inclined so the riders were looking down the city.
"Eric!" she shrieks. "I love you but I am not riding that!" she puts her foot down. But instead, she is met by his laughter and he gathers her in his arms.
"Okay. Kain nalang tayo? I'm hungry."
She rolls her eyes at him. "Finally! Something sensible at last!"
It felt like a lifetime ago. He let go of her hand. Everything seems scarier than it used to be.
...
He parks the car and helps Clara off before carrying Charles who had fallen asleep. He gently lays the little boy on the couch and proceeds to the kitchen where he arrives at Clara with a hand deep in the cookie jar.
"Ate," he says warningly. "What did we say about sweets before dinner?"
Clara sighs and looks at him apologetically. "Sorry, dad."
Eric smiles and decides to let her off the hook. "Go wash up. We'll have dinner in a little while."
Clara grins and carefully places the cookie jar back in the counter cabinet before dashing to the sink.
Eric puts on an apron and takes out the ingredients he'd need for their dinner. Charlie asked if they could have some mac and cheese for dinner, something that Eric is sure he could pull off (although between him and Sam, he's always been the better cook). He is grating the cheese when Clara sits on the counter stool across from him and starts popping some cheese in her mouth, resulting in him grating more cheese than he initially needed.
He is in the middle of cooking the macaroni in milk when Clara began telling him about the book she found in their library.
"Dad?" she starts.
"Yes, love?" he answers, momentarily taking his eyes off the pot.
"I found a book in the library today. I read it but I didn't get to finish it."
"Did you like it?"
"Yeah. There's one line I memorised from it but I can't understand what it means."
He chuckles. "Mom's better at explaining those things but what is it? Maybe I could help."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye."
He is startled. He knows that line like it's written in the back of his hand. There is a book on his shelf where that line is highlighted. He didn't buy it. He didn't highlight it. But it's one of the few objects he treasures the most. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He tries to simplify things for the nine-year-old. There is so much to it, of course. He knows it means deeper than the explanation he could muster. He also knows a person who understands it better. But he tries anyway.
"It means that the most important things in life aren't those that we could see but those we could feel." Clara looks at him in confusion. He sighs. "You'll understand better when you're older, love," he reasons. Then, he raises an eyebrow. "Teka, didn't you have class today?"
Clara grins sheepishly. "It was during lunch, I swear!"
"But?"
She bites her lip and fiddles with her thumb. "I forgot about the time?"
Eric purses his lips to keep himself from smiling. Clara is very much a miniature version of Samantha. Sam also has a tendency of forgetting the time whenever she is too immersed in whatever book she is reading. There have been countless instances where he'd come pick her up only to find out that she forgot to get ready because but I was just getting to the good part!
Most of those times, they'd end up staying in, with him cooking her food because she forgets to eat every time she is engrossed in something. And he begins to wonder as he stares at the pot of macaroni he is cooking. Has Sam eaten yet? He casts a glance at his phone, debating whether he should ask or not, or whether it is proper of him to do so. And then he remembers Clara and he sees an opening.
"Ate?"
"Yeaaaaah?" she drawls, still guarding and observing him and his mood. She's crossing her fingers that she won't get reprimanded for accidentally skipping class and by the tone of her father's voice, she might just get away with it. Although, she swears she wouldn't do it again. She'll just have to ask him or her mom to buy that book so she could share it with Charles too.
"You know where I put my iPad?"
She stares at him, gauging if he's testing her. Reluctantly, she nods.
"Can you please get it for me please?"
She agrees. She hops off the stool and dashes to her dad's office, making a beeline for the desk. She grabs the device and returns to the kitchen, waving the iPad at him. "Here dad," she says and places it on the counter before climbing on the stool again.
"You know how to use Viber?"
The girl nods.
"Can you please open it and press mom's photo?"
Clara, both curious and confused, does as she is told. "What then, dad?"
"Can you please ask her if she's eaten na?"
After a few seconds, the iPad beeped, indicating a reply.
"What did mom say?"
"'Hello, ate. Mom's good, don't worry. Still in conference. Will talk later, okay? Love you!'" the girl reads from the screen. "Dad, can I play with your iPad?"
Eric nodded absentmindedly, his mind suddenly preoccupied with Sam. He transfers the macaroni and cheese in a pyrex and pops it in the oven. He grabs his phone to see Sam's reply to Clara and by the looks of it, she hasn't eaten dinner. And if he knows her as well as he believes he does, dinner is out of her mind altogether. Sighing, he opens his contact list and calls his sister who is based in Cebu.
...
Sam has just entered her hotel suite and is about to hop in the shower when the telephone rang. Forehead scrunched and grunting from her legs that are killing her, she grabs the phone. "Hello?"
"Good evening, Ma'am. You have a delivery from The Castle."
She is taken aback. The Castle. She knows of it. Castillo. It is one of the Castillo enterprises, a restaurant-chain whose origins are traced back in Cebu. One of the finest and most exclusive restaurants in the country. And they never deliver which brings her to ask why? Why does she have a delivery from The Castle.
"I'm sorry, did I hear you right when you said, 'The Castle,' as in the restaurant?" she asks the concierge.
"Yes ma'am."
Still unsure of what is happening, she allows the delivery to be brought to her. It didn't take long for a ring to echo from her door and when she opened it, she gasps in surprise to see Lyndon, the youngest of the Castillo siblings, her brother-in-law.
"Lyndon!" she exclaims and hugs him. "What are you doing here?"
The boy fifteen years younger than Eric grins. "Heard you were around, Ate. I thought I'd bring you something," he says and returns the hug while carefully manoeuvring the package he brought with him.
"You didn't have to," Sam says and takes the paper bag from him. She places it on the table and returns to him. "How are you? How's Ate Cynthia? Still the head chef of The Castle?"
"I'm great, Ate. Will be leaving rin for Italy tomorrow. And yes, Ate Cynthia is still the same kitchen monster," he says playfully.
Sam leads him to the couch and laughs. "Why? What did you do nanaman?"
He feigns a hurt expression. "Me? I was just trying to help. But you know Murphy's law?" She nods in amusement. "I'm his favourite. I was just trying to cook the sauce for the Pasta Pomodoro when the pan burst into flames. Ayun, na kick out nanaman ako sa kusina."
Sam chuckles. "You know naman how meticulous Ate Cynthia is," she reasons.
Lyndon agrees. "Oh, and she says she misses you. If you have the time daw, drop by the resto. May chef's compliment three-course-meal ka daw."
Sam nods. "Okay, I will. I miss you guys too. God, it's been so long," she mutters and a sad smile creeps on Lyndon's face.
"We all miss you, Ate," he says. He glances at his watch and jumps on his feet. "Ate, I have to go. Ate Cynthia is going to kill me," he bids his goodbye and Sam walks him to the lobby, insisting that she wanted to walk her little brother out. She waves a goodbye when he drives away, a small nostalgic smile still plastered on her face.
Cynthia and Lyndon are like siblings to her but they are Eric's siblings first and foremost. Since the split, Sam hasn't made any contact with them, a little iffy with the thought that they may be disappointed with both her and Eric. But tonight's meeting proved her wrong. She was in over her head. The Castillos are a warm bunch. It seems as though nothing has changed, despite everything.
She goes to the paperbag Lyndon brought her and gingerly takes out the content. There's a roasted beef rib and a penne arrabbiata— among the restaurant's best dishes and she is certain that it is Cynthia's doing. But what strikes her more is what lies below. Below the gourmet Italian dishes is a simple assemblage of fried rice with garlic, a sunny side up egg, and chorizo, with an atchara on the side. Her breath hitches.
"Breakfast for dinner," she whispers under her breath and tears prick in her eyes. She knows exactly who this is from. There is one person other than her and her sister who knows just how much she loves breakfast food. She knows who it is. The Italian gourmet lay forgotten as she gathers the breakfast food in her arms and sits comfortably in the bed. She usually doesn't eat on the bed and the only exceptions are the times when she's feeling extremely sad. Today, she's not sad, not really. In fact, she's happy. He remembers.
She takes a photo of the food and sends it to the first Viber contact in her inbox. Her daughter messaged her earlier asking if she's had dinner. She knows Clara is a thoughtful child but the timing of the message screams something else.
She says, Thank you, Ate Clara.
She opts to address the message to her daughter. She couldn't find the courage to thank Eric himself yet at that moment, but she hopes that he knows that she is thankful for him, the life they had led, the life they now lead, and if the heavens permit, the life they will live.