Chapter 22: Real Or Not Real?
“Well, you’re looking pretty today.” My dad peeked up at me for just a second from where he was sitting in the living room. He had a bowl of cereal in one hand and a silver spoon in the other. On the TV was some sappy Sunday afternoon soap opera about who knows what – probably just another poor lad getting diagnosed with cancer again – and I grimaced, wondering why in the world my dad always watched it. Despite the fact that it was half past two, he was still in his pyjamas, his hair sticking up in random cobwebs as if he hadn’t brushed through it for days.
“Don’t you have anything to do today?” I asked. “Like work?”
“Writer’s block,” he muttered. Shoving another spoon of cereal into his mouth, he turned to me again and raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “You avoided the topic,” he said suspiciously. “Why are you looking so pretty today?”
“I look pretty everyday,” I snapped. Gathering my hair up into a high ponytail, I quickly secured it with a hair-tie before patting down my floral-patterned skirt. My dad’s eyes kept following me around apprehensively, and as much as it made me uncomfortable, I kept my lips shut for the reason of not repeating what happened Saturday morning.
About an hour ago, Marshall had called me up and invited me out on a date. Considering the fact that I had tons of time on my hands now that my work at the theatre had ended, I was actually glad he had called and quickly agreed to meet him at the Mean Bean café down the block from the mall. “And not that I’m complaining,” he had muttered, “but I’ve never seen you wear anything cute and girly.”
“Would wearing that… somehow make me fall in love with you faster?” I had asked.
“Sure,” he had replied. “Who really knows?”
So that was what happened. I dug through the closet I had only cleaned up the night before and found a skirt I hadn’t worn since eighth grade. Surprisingly, the skirt still fitted me effortlessly minus the fact that it was a bit short, but I managed it okay. Pairing it with a spaghetti strap that tied into a bow at the top of each shoulder, and then a touch of eyeliner and mascara, I was ready to go. I even added a bit of snazzy lip-gloss just for kicks, not that it was noticeable enough to be the highlight of my face.
“I’m going out,” I muttered as I slipped my feet into some flip-flops.
I could hear him grumbling through the walls since he probably suspected I was heading out to see Marshall. I mean it wasn’t like I dressed up to go visit Todd that was for sure. “Are you coming back for dinner at least?” He shouted.
“Doubtful.”
Spreading open the door, I winched at the sunlight before heading outside. It took me a good several minutes to drive into town, and then a few more towards the mall because of the traffic, but eventually I made it to the Mean Bean and found Marshall sitting across from Jeremy at one of the back booths of the café. At once after stepping in, the aroma of coffee beans overwhelmed my nose, and the sound of loud blenders roared in the background in a violent dance with the jazz and blues the café was blaring.
Marshall waved for me to go to him and I made my way down, nodding my head when Jeremy flashed me a smile. “Sorry I called you out instead of picking you up,” Marshall mumbled when I approached the table. “I’m severely traumatized from what your dad did to me the other day so I probably won’t be going anywhere near your house… for three days.”
“That’s great,” I said as sarcastically as possible. “Anyways, it’s fine. I prefer it this way since you would’ve probably just picked me up on your bike.”
“That’s so lame,” Jeremy chuckled. “Is that honestly how you pick up chicks?”
“Shut up,” Marshall growled. “What’s wrong with a bike? A bike is totally romantic. Anyways, you know what happened to my bike.”
“What happened to your bike?” I asked.
“I broke it.” Scooting over, he grinned at me and patted on the cushioned spot next to him. “Sit down. Jere-Bear’s starting his shift in twenty minutes so lets just chill for a bit.”
I shrugged since none of it really mattered to me and took a seat beside Marshall before scrutinizing Jeremy, who was sitting across. He was in a blue and white striped polo, his short, brown hair neat and tidy unlike Marshall’s usual mess of blonde hair. Compared to the person he was when he was drunk, sober Jeremy seemed like a decent guy with a good head on him – a complete one hundred and eighty degree change.
“I’m Jeremy by the way,” he chuckled after I settled down. “I think… I think we might have hung out together a bit on Friday night.”
“Oh I know,” I said. “And we did. You even kissed me when I dropped you off at your house.”
That was news to them both. “What?!” Marshall shouted. He was mid-swallow on his sugary drink with the mountain of whip-cream, and inevitably started coughing when he choked on it. “When the hell did this happen? You kissed her?!”
Jeremy glanced at Marshall wide-eyed before shifting them back to me. “I… I kissed you?” He murmured. A hesitant chuckle came out of him as he repeatedly shook his head in denial. “You mean, like, on the hand, right? I kissed you on the hand.”
“Or the cheeks?” Marshall suggested.
“On the lips,” I spat. Anger ripped through my body and I growled lowly at Jeremy as he squeezed his eyes closed in disbelief. I wasn’t sure why I was angry, but suddenly I had to hold myself back from pouncing him. I think I was probably still upset over the fact that he’d left slobber all over my face Friday night, and hadn’t had the time to properly work through the trauma. “It was like kissing a snail,” I added, just to serve my point.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Camila.” Remorse painted his entire face and dulled his eyes as he apologized. “I feel so bad. I was so messed up that night, I don’t even remember doing it. I woke up on the kitchen floor the next morning and I had no idea what happened to my shoes.”
Marshall must have kicked him under the table because he grimaced in pain suddenly and shot Marshall a glare. “Is that all you’ve got to say to her?” He shouted. “An apology? That’s it?! I can’t believe you kissed her when I wasn’t looking! I’ve been hanging out with her for a week and I haven’t even touched a feather on her yet!”
“That’s because I don’t have any feathers,” I remarked.
“Well, you know how that saying goes.”
“Uh… yeah, and it was hair.”
“Oh. Well… that makes sense I guess.” Marshall cleared his throat before getting angry with Jeremy again. “I haven’t even touched a hair on her yet and you’ve already… Are you sure it’s hair?” He mumbled to me. “It doesn’t have as nice of a ring to it as feather does. Anyways, whatever. The point is Jeremy, you’re a douchebag.”
I started to clap. “That was a nice speech Marshall. Wonderful.”
“And it was her first kiss,” he added.
Jeremy lowered his head in his hands and apologized profusely. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry Camila. I’ve wronged you and I can never do anything to give you that first kiss back!”
“Wait,” I said. “What are you guys going off about? That wasn’t my first kiss.”
That was even more news to them; Marshall turned to me with his mouth ajar and Jeremy raised his head from his hands with a look of disbelief. “What!” They both mumbled.
“I said it wasn’t my first kiss,” I repeated.
“W– Wait!” Marshall grumbled, waving his hand in front of me to signal me to pause. “Was it a real kiss or not?”
“Relatives don’t count,” Jeremy added.
I scowled at the both of them immediately. What was with their oblivious reactions? Was it really so hard to believe that I’ve kissed a guy before? Snorting at them, I crossed my arms in front of me and gave them each a menacing glare. “Is there something wrong with me that you guys are so surprised?”
“No,” Jeremy quickly murmured.
“Yes!” Marshall cried. He turned to his friend suddenly when he realized the difference in their replies and then quickly shook his head. “I mean no… or yes… Oh Jesus! Look, there isn’t anything wrong with you having been kissed before. It’s more like you’re kind of intimidating.” He stopped there even though it sounded only like half of the explanation. “Was it a guy?” He suddenly asked.
“Of course it was a guy!”
“How would I know,” he retorted. “Was it on the lips?”
“Open mouth?” Jeremy chipped in.
“Tongue?”
I glared at the both of them before giving into their overwhelming idiocy. “On the lips,” I finally replied. “Open mouth, no tongue.”
“Well, that’s a huge insight.” Sliding down to the end of the booth, Jeremy got up and took one glance at his phone. “Well, I have to go get changed now. Are you guys going to sit here for a bit longer? Do you want a latte or a frap or something Camila? It’s on me if you want one. You know, as a mini apology.”
I shook my head and declined though I appreciated the offer. The only things I drank were water, mineral water, vitamin water and maybe the occasional skim milk. Just the thought of how many hidden calories were in a cup of those things had me in a calculating mess. “No thanks.”
“Are you sure?” He flashed me a smile and showed off a set of bleached-white teeth, but I was adamant on my decision. “It isn’t just our sign you know,” he said. “We do make Mean Beans here.” I declined once more and when I did, he didn’t push his offer any further. “Well, I’ll see you around then, okay? It was cool chatting with you. See you later Marshall.”
Marshall raised his hand in a wave, but didn’t take his gaze off of me. His eyes were lit up with interest, but it was a bit different from the usual excited, happy gloss over them. I couldn’t tell why he was studying me so intently or what he was thinking at the time – just that he was curious about me. “What?” I snapped.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Another guy kissing you.” I didn’t say anything when he said that. It seemed like he had more to add, but he didn’t feel like it so I just waited. If he wanted to say the rest, he’d eventually say it and if he didn’t, I wasn’t that interested anyways. Eventually though – silence not being his thing – Marshall continued. “I mean, was it like a one time deal?”
“What?”
“The kiss.”
“Nope.” I shook my head and leaned back on the seat, which despite the plushness of its counterpart was actually quite hard in comparison. “It happened during several occasions. Same guy.”
“Huh.” He picked up his drink and dug face first into the whip-cream, sucking in half of the fluffy content and leaving a mess all over his mouth. He sighed in sweet bless as he pulled away and settled back on his seat. Even after he stuck his tongue out and licked the sweet stuff off his lips, there was still a speck of whip-cream on the side of his cheek accompanied by two chocolate sprinkles – all of which, I decided not to tell him about. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this love thing,” he mumbled. “And about you.”
“And?”
“Well, I always thought you just had it rough in the past, people were always judging you, and you just tuned people out eventually. I thought that the reason you want to learn about love and fall in love was because you never had the opportunity to experience it before, but maybe I was wrong.” He turned and looked at me with the kind of eyes that made you feel a hundred times more naked than if you had absolutely no clothes on. It made me recoil because of how deep his gaze was and I looked down at my lap to avoid it. “I’m wrong, aren’t I?” He continued. “Have you actually… fallen in love before Camila?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. Even if I really wanted to tell him, I didn’t know how. It was such a long story. And it was so boring. And so tedious. And so painful. It was like a really ugly scar. I couldn’t just lift up a piece of clothing and share it. I didn’t want to show it to anyone. I didn’t even want to look at it myself. Why would anyone want to see something so ugly? It wasn’t anything to brag about. Normal people didn’t show off scars like that. Normal people hid them.
“Define love,” I finally said. I kept my gaze locked onto my hands, which were getting sweaty now that they’ve been gripping onto each other for so long on my lap.
“It’s okay you know. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that.” I glanced up, angry for a second, but settled quietly when I realized Marshall hadn’t meant it in a defensive way. There was a small smile on his lips and his eyes weren’t looking at me in an invasive manner. They were just waiting, as if he would spare me an ear and listen if I wanted, but back off if I wasn’t ready to. “It’s not… It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” I murmured. “It’s just that I don’t really know the answer.”
“What do you mean by that?”
I glanced at him, just for a second before looking back down. “I mean I don’t know if it was actually love,” I told him. “But it was something though.”
For some reasons, Marshall’s smile widened and it made me feel relieved. It made me feel reassured. “What was he like exactly?” He suddenly asked.
“He was an idiot,” I replied automatically, and then chuckled when Marshall pointed at himself. “I like how you just admit that you’re an idiot.”
“You’ve drilled it in my head,” he replied. “So then what? Was he like me?”
“He’s nothing like you. He was…” I sighed, and decided that for once, maybe I should start from the beginning. “I met him when I was about four during a beginners ballet class. He was several months older so by then he was already five. Despite that, I was still half a head taller than he was. He was just the skinniest, frailest looking thing and all the girls in our dance class would bully him to no end. I mean, at that age, he was also the only boy so you could imagine. Even then, I guess I wasn’t the best at making friends so when we picked partners, it was always the two of us that ended up not being chosen.”
“Automatic partners,” Marshall mumbled. “Nice.”
I nodded. “But he was always bullied and for a good reason too. Every time his mother dropped him off, he would burst into tears and beg her to take him with her. His mother would always leave in the end and he would just continue to sit in a corner and cry because he didn’t want to be there. He was the biggest crybaby I had ever met. But he was also my dance partner and if he dropped out suddenly and I didn’t have anyone to work with on the days we do partner work, it’d be troublesome so I helped him out when he got bullied. I fought the girls in class off of him when they did their teasing and gave him tissues when he cried. Suddenly, I was Camila, his hero.”
“After that, he started coming to classes happy and he was always glad to see me. He brought me candy from time to time and always let me do all the practicing when we were both supposed to be helping each other improve so I liked him easily and we kind of became friends. He’d always invite me over to his house to play and I’d invite him over to mine from time to time. We got really close. We did all kinds of things together. We spent nearly everyday together. Not seeing him for a day was sort of like cutting off your own arm and not having it for a week.”
“When kindergarten started, we both ended up going to the same school and he switched classes so he could be in mine. Still, at that age, I think he was the only boy who played with a girl so he didn’t have any guy friends and would get made fun of. Whenever some of the more aggressive boys in class sought him out for a fight, I would have to step in. Of course, I know self-defence and could stand my own ground now, but not back then. Back then I was more of this gigantic wall that took all the hits for him because he was too scared to face it. I fought all his battles for him and he knew as much as me that he was a coward.”
“Do you know that one book store inside the Huffington Plaza? It was a candy shop several years ago. Do you know where I’m talking about?”
Marshall gave me a hesitant nod, though I suspected he must have been confused by the sudden change in topic. “Yeah,” he said. “They had the weirdest sweets in there, right? Stuff from Europe and China and India. All kinds of weird things.”
“Yeah. That’s the place. We used to go there all the time. Whenever my schedule was a bit lacking and I could spend the whole day with him, we’d take our bikes and ride it around town before going over to the fields or trespassing through some poor guy’s orchard to play. Anyways, we’d always stop at the candy shop first and he’d buy me something with his allowance. I was six, and it was a week after his seventh birthday. I don’t remember what we were mumbling about, but then he suddenly got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.” I laughed, feeling my stomach stir inside. Just the memory of it made me want to vomit, and I laughed harder, hoping it would somehow counter all of the effect. “It’s stupid right? It’s just one of those lame things kids do when they’re kids.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Marshall grumbled, and when I turned to study him, there wasn’t anything on his expression that indicated he might have lied. “I think it’s actually kind of sweet. I mean, it’s times like those that make childhood what it is, right? That kind of innocence.”
“I guess.”
“So what did you say? Did you tell him yes?”
I laughed, though it sounded more like a really obnoxious snort. “Are you kidding me?” I asked. “Of course I said no, Marshall!” The small smile that was on his face suddenly faded and he narrowed his eyes at me. “I told him,” I continued, “that words were cheap and that, there was no way, under any circumstance, that I was going to marry a man who proposed to me without a ring.”
Marshall’s face fell as if he’d just watch someone get run over by a truck right in front of him. “I can’t believe you Camila,” he muttered, “Even as a kid, god you’re harsh!”
“Whatever.”
“So then, what did the poor kid do?”
And no matter how painful it was for the sack of beating muscles on the left side of my chest, I smiled. “He went and got me a ring,” I replied. “You know those machines where you put a dollar in and you turn it and out comes out this plastic shell with a toy inside? Well, it was only a quarter back then and there were a bunch right outside the candy shop. One of them had a whole bunch of things. There were stickers, bouncy balls, rubber figures … and rings. He kept spending money and turning it until he rolled out a ring and then he got back on one knee and said to me, ‘I know I’m a really big scaredy-cat and I cry a lot, but I meant what I said earlier. I really want to marry you Mila. I want to live in a house with you and have a dog and do the dishes together after dinner like my mom and dad do. Right now I’m not really tall and I can’t buy you a real diamond ring yet, but one day, when I grow up, I’m going to make lots of money, and be really tall, and I won’t be scared of anything, and I’ll never cry, and when that happens, I’m going to buy you a real ring and ask you to marry me again. I promise I’ll get stronger and I’ll protect you and make you the happiest person in the world.’”
“Then he gave me that lousy ring in his hands that was only worth a quarter and said, ‘but this is all I have right now. And I’m still a wimp. And I still cry a lot. That’s all that I am right now, but even then, will you still marry me?’”
“So then, what did you say?”
I swallowed all the emotions that have been surfacing out and pushed them back down before giving Marshall a shrug. “Every promise he’s ever made me, he’s broken,” I said. “So really… does it even matter?”