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“Perhaps he makes a choice. He chooses the memory of her. That’s why he turns. He doesn’t make the lover’s choice, but the poet’s.”
Cameras adore her the same way paparazzi love scandal.
It wasn’t logical to say the least. To feel her nails digging into her palm every time she reads yet another column fawning over her. Most writers don’t even have to be paid by her, and they all but fall on their knees to sing her praises. She could feel her blood pressure rising in synchronicity with blood colouring her cheeks every time she sees her face on the news. Anchors are trained professionals who know better than to let their distrust of her seep through their must-be-neutral tones, but fans are a different topic. It is true what they say about publicity and how labels won’t change what it is; seconds after her appearance on T.V. anyone could be certain that social media would be dominated by her.
It’s clockwork by now…
The latest news says that she’d star on a short film inspired by a famous Roman tragedy, spun into a sapphic tale set in the Philippines. So, she’s an actress now.
The headlights from the future are too blinding. Senator Hontiveros could picture it now. She could be successful, and she’d be impossible to escape then. It’s barely manageable now. Imagine her on billboards and magazines. Imagine the amount of promotional interviews. Imagine her on awards shows. Imagine her on the T.V. looking at the camera… looking at her, scorning at her? delivering her speech and referencing a chipped tooth.
Imagine her as someone who remembers.
It isn’t logical. How is love so close to hate? And how can someone stay on a tightrope for so long, performing for someone who won’t bother to watch? She’s been threading a fine line ever since they called it off. It never had a name in the first place but it must’ve been something. She’d be lying if she claims that she didn’t see it coming. They’d spent nights arguing before.
It’s always about her family, and her line of work. It’s always about the fact that she couldn’t stop even if she tried because it’s second nature by now. She’d claim that she’s not forced into it but she’d flinch ever so slightly every time the person on the other end of the phone switches to Mandarin. Risa would ask her to stop. She can’t remember how many times she offered to “run away”… with reservations. Obviously, she can’t set aside her family and her work, but she could help Alice escape from the burdens of her so-called criminal responsibility. Somehow, they’d end up exchanging words laced with vague insults. Always, Alice would remind her that she is a glorified prisoner as well. Always, Risa (mostly unintentional) would remind her that one work has more dignity than the other. Always, the door would be slammed shut. And always, she’d tell herself that it would remain close.
It never did.
Until one night they had the most amicable argument. In hindsight, the tenderness of it felt like the sign that it would be the last. Alls well that ends well. It didn’t feel like the end that night, when they promised they’d be better friends for each other. It was the first time they admitted their friendship. They were meant to be unprofessional colleagues – Alice would divulge as much information and help them with the matters pertaining of the worsening gambling problems in the country and Risa would supervise her works and decide if she’s fit for a parole. Of course, Alice confessed to having ties to an illegal organisation which she swore is not related to POGOs. She had so many justifications, and against the senator’s better judgement, she agreed to look away from it as long as Alice fulfils her role.
Around that time, Alice received her parole. They’re both free citizens who can be friends without qualms; so much so that Alice felt comfortable enough to leave her phone on the coffee table when she went to the toilet. She probably should’ve known that her father would congratulate her for her parole, but even with that taken into account, how could she have known that he would reiterate the lie she told them about her relationship with the senator?
Even before they refused to call it what it was, she knew she couldn’t just introduce the senator as her friend to her parents. Even then she felt the need to bastardise their relationship one way or another. Afraid that the smallest of truths could reveal the bigger picture. So, she convinced them that she’s using the senator to get her parole and they were eager to believe it. Unfortunately for her, it was too easy to believe that when Risa mistakenly heard it, she immediately forgot about all the times they spent together. And Alice couldn’t blame her.
The door closed softly behind her that night. Risa was hauntingly solemn, enunciating every word: I don’t ever wanna see you again. Alice couldn’t argue. She thought perhaps the air would clear between them and she’d get a chance to explain. Days passed. And then weeks turned into months. Christmas passed, then New Year, then the senator’s birthday. Nothing happened.
When the director approached her, for god-knows-what reason – she denied the proposition without even reading the script. Unfortunately, the part of her that couldn’t say ‘no’ to people who say ‘please’ won over when the director insisted on it. It felt odd to read events that are so unfamiliar eliciting familiar feelings she’d long since forgotten, or at least, tried to forget. It took her 20 minutes to finish reading the script and half a second to decide.
Then it was settled.
The short film was a success, earning her a nomination but she knows better than to expect. Pitted against veteran actors, it’d be a shot in the dark to win. So, she downed as many champagne as she can to appear in place. Finally, the category for ‘Best Actress’ is to be announced, and just as she predicted, the presenter called a different name. Relief floored her, evening out her breathing which she didn’t noticed was ragged in the first place.
Unfortunately, fate could be a real dick sometimes. The winner dedicated her speech to the love of her life who was apparently a woman. It didn’t shock her that there were open lesbians in showbiz, but it did shock her to see the winner glide down the steps – straight to the arms of an obviously older woman. Under different circumstances, it would be her on that stage giving a speech about the love of her life. Or not…
Under different circumstances, she won’t be alone in a table full of people who are either married or in a committed relationship. She won’t be wearing a powder blue gown because someone would insist that she’d look best in pink. She won’t be drowning in champagne because someone would laugh with her about the silliest things that had been making her giggle to herself the entire night. She won’t need to glide down that gilded stage to nestle in her arms because they’d be brave enough to call it in its name.
“Careful on the drink. We have one last screening tomorrow.”
Thank god for the director by her side. She’d almost forgotten about that.
The following afternoon, Alice was certain she actually deserved the award last night – it takes a different kind of performance to act as though your hangover isn’t killing you and for it to not manifest on your face. She managed to perfect both for the first time in her life. On top of that, she also managed to talk more about the film, and answer a few questions.
Perhaps it's an exaggeration to call that talent. Unbeknownst to her, she’s yet to give the best performance of her life. A girl from the sixth row asked a question, light shining on her as someone from the crew makes her way to her to hand her a microphone. Alice couldn’t care less.
Two seats next to her, sits Risa. She is, without a doubt looking at her. Alice knows that the senator could tell that she’s returning her gaze. It took a playful elbow hit from the director to get Alice’s attention back.
“Could you repeat the question, po?” Alice chuckled nervously – surprised that the shrill she expected came out controlled.
Only two more questions followed, then they were finally done.
Part of her wants to barricade the doors to make sure she could spend more time with the senator, even if they’re too far apart. But a part of her knows that the past should be left behind. So, she excused herself and hurried to the parking lot.
It’d be a lie to claim that she didn’t wish to see the senator to be there and call for her name. She didn’t hesitate to turn around.
“I looked for you back stage.”
“Akala ko po ba you didn’t wanna see me ever again.”
“Yes. Akala ko din.” Risa remained composed. “I just wanna say congrats. Believe me, I tried to congratulate you way earlier but I felt stupid every time.”
“Ano po nagbago?”
“I still feel stupid, but less so now.”
“Nag lunch na po ba kayo?”
It’s a quarter past four. They both know the answer to her question, but they also both know that a little white lie won’t hurt. Some doors may remain closed, but all the best romance starts with two people in love and a window that stays open… just in case.