CHAPTER THIRTEEN
●○► THE WEIGE MANSION
The lake becomes noisy when Baron shoots the ball.
Kate and Heather scream loudly beside me as if their lives have just gotten an extension of several years. I can say that they are truly overwhelmed by Emil’s Team winning; they are jumping for multiple times now with their hands holding each other. All I can do is to stare. It was no doubt Emil’s Team played excellently in the game. Especially Dave, who had scored more than his other teammates. I glance at the field. Baron, Dave and Emil are hugging each other as they cheer loudly for themselves.
“We won! We won! We won!” say the three, also jumping but not simultaneously. I smile, though I’m slightly saddened by the fact that they won the game. It was supposed to be the Blue Team who should have won. It was supposed to be Bryan’s team.
When the screaming beside me ended, and Kate and Heather decide to run toward Dave and Baron, I look at Bryan who is walking disappointedly toward me. His head is slightly bowed down; the look on his face is the look you see when you don’t get something you want and you’re angry with it. When he reaches me, I give him a hug. Immediately. I smell his sweaty scent and feel the salty water on his shirt transferring to mine. But it is okay, I think. It doesn’t matter. Win or lose, he will still be my Bryan, my best soccer player.
“Sorry to disappoint you, babe,” he says, a little melancholy.
“Shh,” I say quickly. “You don’t have to be.” I release him so that I can say the next words in front of him, so that he can know I am emphasizing it. “Just promise me to win on your second match. ‘Kay?” I put my palms over his temples and caress the hair that touches my fingers.
“Okay,” he agrees, and then smiles.
When his smile fades, my mouth opens to say “I love you.” But then I remember that I should only say that when we’re doing something magical, and this isn’t the magical thing yet. I close my mouth immediately, like my lips didn’t let the words pass any corner of my mouth. I smile instead. And I know he knows what I was about to say.
“Don’t say that,” he says, pressing his index finger on my lips. “Not yet, babe.”
I nod in ascent. And the next thing I know that happens is that . . . our lips collide like meteors colliding fast on earth.
My lips are still virgin. I have no idea what is happening. His lips feel soft, softer than cotton or even the softest feather. One thing I am aware of is that my lips don’t dance around his lips like his lips do to mine. I am just standing still, stiffed, not knowing what to do next. Instead, I close my eyes—or my eyes close by themselves—and enjoy the whole, romantic moment we are just about to have.
“Bryan?” I hear a female voice say behind me. This makes me detach my lips from Bryan. I look over my shoulder, twisting hard so I can see who the girl behind me is.
Jamela.
“Sis?” Bryan says in shock. “What’re you doing here?”
Jamela starts to walk toward us with eyes looking fiercely at Bryan. After a second, she glances at me with the same look and eyes me from head to toe then back again. Her look is so sharp it pierces me to the bottom of my soul.
“Hi, Mary,” she says very sarcastically. “May I ask you why are you doing that to my brother?”
I am suddenly tongue-tied. I don’t know what to answer her. Glad Kevin isn’t here, or else concentrating will be the hardest part in this interrogation. I take a deep breath, trying not to glance at Bryan. I want to look at him now because I feel so scared facing his sister. I hold his hand, instead. Very tightly. As if my anxiety is being transferred to him.
Finally, courage rises up, and my mouth opens to answer Jamela.
“I—”
But Bryan immediately cuts me off. “We were kissing, sis,” he explains. “By the way, I’m her boyfriend now.”
I did not turn to look at Bryan when he speaks. In front of me, I see Jamela raises one eyebrow at me and Bryan as if she doesn’t or cannot believe about what Bryan said. The other girls beside me are totally quiet, watching us. The boys from the field, I think, remains where they are and eavesdrop instead.
Jamela sighs heavily. “Go home,” she tells Bryan. And as she points a finger at me, she adds, “Bring that girl with you.”
My heart begins to race as Jamela turns her back to us and starts to walk away from the lake.
Bryan holds my hand even tighter as he stares at me for a second in the eye. I try to read the expression on his face; it seems to tell me: “We should go. Or we’re dead.”
I am dead.
I am dead.
I am dead.
When Bryan and I start walking, we never have the chance to say goodbye to the others. Without looking back, we take small, careful strides away from the lake. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know what it is going to be like to go over the Mayor’s house, meeting the Weige family. I know Jamela would embarrass me to them, make them feel disgusted of me for seducing Bryan to be my boyfriend. I do not what that to happen. Bryan will not want that to happen.
We have reached the street where our house is located. Jamela, walking a few meters ahead of us, takes glances at us over her shoulder every once in a while. I can still feel Bryan’s hand holding mine. I can feel his pulse beating hard as my wrist sits over his. I sense his nervousness. I know he’s more nervous than I am.
The streets we walk are totally quiet. Either the people living in the houses are inside, already going to sleep, or still outside, flirting. The inside of some houses are dark, and a few are only lit up. After I glance from one house to the other, I finally direct my sight ahead of me. Jamela is now farther, her paces getting a bit longer.
I lean my head close to Bryan’s ear, and whisper, “I’m scared.” I rest my cheeks on his shoulder, no longer looking ahead of me. Instead, I am looking back, watching the path we’ve taken. It has been far, maybe a mile or so.
“Shh,” he murmurs. “It’ll be all right.” His voice carries a reassuring tone. I somehow feel relief inside my chest, but I know there is still the nervousness. After a moment, I see my sight blur—blurred by my tears that starts to flood in my eyes. I want to wipe them off, to prevent them from falling, but suddenly, they spill out as if my eyes are already a glass full of water.
I sniff. And I feel Bryan moves.
“Don’t cry, babe,” he says. He knows that I am crying. “There’s nothing bad that’s gonna happen. I promise.”
I promise, his words echoes around the inside of my skull. It feels like a feather brushing on my skin and at the same time a knife stabbing through my heart. The relief and the pain. Suddenly jabbing into me. I don’t know if I’ll still go on.
By the time we reach the Mansions, I come into an abrupt stop. I am now looking at the place where Bryan lives, where Kevin and Jamela with their children stays. As we entered the open wrought, iron gates, the walls of their house that are painted yellow makes my jaw open in amazement. I have never been into a house like this before. The roof is a beautiful mix of mud brown and orange. The architectural design of the house is symmetrical; the position of the window on the left side is just the same as the position of the window on the right. They have a front yard garden—different kinds of flowers planted everywhere and bushes served as boundaries to them. After the driveway, there is a stone pathway leading to their house, too. The front door—an oak, Greek-designed door—with two gladiator guards standing stiffly on both sides, is closed. They move to open it once we get closer.
“Good afternoon, Madam,” the guards greet in unison, bowing slightly as Jamela passes. But Jamela just walks and ignores them, like she didn’t hear anything.
Again, in unison, they greet Bryan with a “Good afternoon, Mister,” giving him a small bow as he and I pass.
“Good afternoon,” Bryan replies.
I meet the guards’ eyes as I glance at them. They give me a respectful smile and also greet me with the same “Good afternoon.”
When they say it, I know I have to do it as well.
The two doors close behind us with a thud and a click. I’m still holding Bryan’s hand for the sight of the inside of the house makes me more nervous than ever. It is brightly lit; the chandeliers that serves as the lighting material hangs more than ten feet overhead. The floor is tiled. The walls around are yellow like outside. As I inhale some air, I smell lavender with a hint of lemon and mint. I let my eyes travel around the house. It is so beautiful. If this is the life a mayor has, what more about the governor and president?
“So,” I hear Bryan say, pausing for a second so I can take a look at every angle of the design, “this is our house.”
“It’s beautiful,” I mutter. “Really, it’s beautiful.”
For a poor girl like me, this experience is awesome. In ten years I dreamed of having this kind of life and now I am just about to start it. Beside me, Bryan chuckles—a sound you can hear from someone who suddenly feels happy after undergoing a sad situation. A sad situation. A sad situation. I almost forgot that we are both under that. But it’s not sad. It’s a terrifying situation.
I immediately glance down after looking around. I tighten my hold on Bryan’s hand when I remember that I am not here to enjoy. I am here to be judged, like a criminal inside a court.
“Shall we go?” Bryan asks, a low murmur in my ear.
“Where?”
“They must be upstairs in the conference room now. Jamela has called everybody to go there for you.”
“Conference room?” I am a bit curious about what he said.
He takes a breath, detaches his hand from mine and pulls me immediately so that I can face him. Then he puts his hands on my shoulders. “Mary,” he says calmly, but a little out of breath, “I want you not to be nervous. Okay? The family is gonna meet you in the conference room to interrogate you. Don’t worry, it’s the same process Kevin undergone when he and Jamela became together. Look”—he pauses—“once they’ve asked you the first question, I want you to answer it honestly, because the room detects all lies and that may result to your . . . well, um, execution if you don’t tell the truth. Please tell them all the truth. Always remember that, okay?”
I don’t know what to feel next about the words he just said. The conference room being able to detect lies just makes my heart pound like it wants to get out of my chest. I can feel it hammer. I sense the extreme panic in Bryan’s voice as well. He truly cares about me that’s why he’s telling me this. He really loves me. And that suddenly gets me to the verge of crying.
“Okay,” I say, remembering his words, trying to bite back the feeling of sorrow.
“One last thing, Mary,” he adds a few seconds later. He stares into my eyes and his hands venture up to my face. He holds my jaws with his thumb wiping the salty water that’s streaming down my cheeks. I never know I’m already crying. I never know that since he wipes the first tear. “I love you,” he says.
And we kiss.