Paramour Act 1

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Act I: Distressed

Fuck. No word can describe the scene I am in. Two guys, fighting for one person - me. 

I told each of them that I loved them both, that I’ll never love another man as long as we’re together. Stupid promise. I loved the way each of them paid special attention to me, and my every need and want. Yet, I love them both equally and unconditionally. And there’s no need to fight this way.

They punched, and groaned, and bit, and slapped each other to hell. Even trying to interfere was a waste of energy. They claim it would be a waste of time for me to join in, and they shouted for me to back away so I wouldn’t get hurt.

I felt sorry. For the way I mistreated them both, for falling in love twice and simultaneously at that. They say “love is unstoppable. Once it pierces, it will never heal.”

At last, after an hour of bickering and menagerie, the fight was over. No one won. They looked at me, though, and insisted me to choose. But I know I can’t. And I won’t. I love them, and they both are a part of my life that I wouldn’t want to let go of.

“I can’t choose between you two. I love you both.”

“But you can’t choose us both. It’s either me or him.”

“Obviously, it will be me he’ll choose.”

“Please say it’s me… you know how much I love you more than this bastard.”

“I can’t.”

Tears suddenly burst into my eyes. I regretted this, deeply. I loved him. And him too. And I can’t choose. If I choose one of them, the other will surely hate me or despise me so much, he’ll think of a way to send me to hell.

“If you can’t choose now, then I’ll never be yours.”

“Choose me now. Or else.”

They waited for their name to be uttered by my shaking lips and my rash, sullen voice. But now, my voice is inaudible. They removed the rings I gave them, the promise rings, and threw it to my face as they left me with the aftermath of their temper. Things scattered around the floor. Tears running down my eyes. And two fucking rings, dirtied by the sin of its giver. I am numb. Sorrow swelled deep and robbed me of all other emotions. 

I wasn’t able to choose. I can’t. Because I wouldn’t want to hurt another person like that. So the recourse was to let them both go even if it hurts like hell. So that the only heart that was to be broken was mine. Rather than them leaving with tears, I’d rather let them leave with high proud faces. At least they will remember that somehow I still loved them. Gods, heaven could attest this fact.

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Going home was a big ordeal. 12 o’clock midnight, full moon looming over star-filled skies. A perfect setting for a quick caramel macchiato in an old school alley-like type of coffee shop. I stared at the busy street and the pedestrians that seem to wander off to some other place than this.

Anyways, as alone as I had been before, I drunk the macchiato while people watching: a great pastime of mine. And as usual, in my two-seater table beside the stained glass windows, I am placid. No one bothers me.

However, this 29th day of August, something was different. Sipping my usual caramel macchiato, he appeared suddenly. He tapped my table, sighed, and smiled.

“Can I sit here? Apparently no other tables were available.” This was of course, a lie. There were about 14 people in the café. This includes the service personnel, who now looked at us, as if something is incredibly wrong.

“By the way, I’m Basil. Nice to meet you.” He was familiar. But I couldn’t quite place him.

“Yeah, you too…” and I sipped my coffee as though nothing happened. I looked away, to the streets. But in the corners of my eyes, I could see he was looking at me.

“Do you regularly go here? I think I’ve seen you a number of times here already.” He said this with him ending the sentence with a quick sip of his Venti brewed coffee.

“Yeah.” I tried to look interested. I averted my eyes back to the street.

“Uhm, so a CSR of a BPO? Night shift?” He asked, with him looking across the street just as I had.

“Yeah, Sykes. Just two blocks away from here. Just relaxing before going home.” I said. I took another sip. And another. And another.

“What department are you in exactly? I’m at Outgoing, Sales.” Oh, so he works there too. Figures, he seemed so familiar to me.

“Oh, I’m in HR.” I said as I put down my coffee, now emptied.

Silence enveloped us. No one said anything, as we continued to stare and people watch. After a few minutes, he was also finished.

“Thanks for the time. Are you here the same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok.”

From that moment, we continued to put up with that charade. Drinking our coffees (sometimes hot, sometimes cold; like macchiatos and frappes and brewed coffee) on my and now our special table near the stained glass window, as we watch people walking about minding their own shit.

I began to like him, and his effort. He always talked about himself, and I was always silent as a rock. I love the way he smiled and looked at me with such longing. I love the way his eyes seemed to pierce my soul with its hues that constantly changes every day. He was beginning to be perfect in my eyes, and even if he was just as nerdy as me, he was as attractive as a model in those shitty underwear billboards they keep posting at EDSA. We began to see ourselves more outside the coffee shop, and even in our workplaces and cubicles.

But I wasn’t really on a going home at that first meeting. I was in fact, just hired that night. I just went home later than I should be, and like now, I waited for the people to lessen. But I think he knew this fact too, as he never asked nor confirmed my schedule. It was always 12 o’clock midnight, coffee shop.

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We lasted for a year. We didn’t really fight that much. But we broke up over a petty little thing, with me not answering his texts. We both had a shouting match, in the middle of the street, where people mockingly looked at us with such indignation and scandal. And at that time, I met him.

Daniel was a different person altogether. He was more attractive than Basil because he was fit like those local celebrity hunks whose muscles popped in all too many places, but he was also more intelligent than I was. We talked constantly about things like the stock market, or the economical distress of the Philippines, or some other shit under the umbrella that was popped up in that day. He was the best friend of my colleague/officemate, and he was a person I liked since the day we both were coupled up at a silly children’s party game of said colleague/officemate.

We would often talk, and he would always have an opinion about anything. Like there was one time we talked about the global climate change, and he constantly rattled on conservationism and segregation. He was also a good talker, a soothsayer if you must, able to take you into topics that are as intellectually perverse as we make them out to be.

I fell in love with him, just two weeks after my public fight with Basil. As usual, I waited for Daniel again in front of the intersection. He stopped his car, opened his door and went to open the door for me, just as he had always done.

He held my hand suddenly. I looked up at him. And by then I gathered all the courage I had left in my body to ask him out.

“Can we, like, go out?” I said, blushing. He was smiling.

“Go out, means a date right?” He snickered.

He continued, “I hate dates, as they are as superficial as romance would allow, but I might make an exception for you,” Then he really smiled wide and winked.

“So does this mean you like me?” I asked.

“Don’t you want me to?”

“I do.”

“Why? Why me all of a sudden?”

“Because your brain is as sexy as those washboard abs you’re constantly hiding inside your shirt.”

He laughed. He thinks I was joking, or whatever. He just smiled.

“Meet me at 7pm. On the same place I fetched you earlier.”

We agreed to date. In a black and white post modern restaurant that was serving Asian-fusion cuisine. We dated, and went to several places and several malls every once in a while.

And that we did until Basil caught us dating. 

Silence. Uttering no words, I looked away. Away from the smart Daniel and away from the sweet Basil. Daniel was extraordinarily handsome that day, wearing a business casual set that seemed to lift out from the pages of a magazine. I dropped my fork, and looked up to each of them.

Daniel held my hand, seemingly unknown to the fact that Basil was there, and asked me if I loved him as he did.

“I love you, Daniel.” I answered.

“Really?”

“Yes. But…”

“But what?”

“Because he also loves me.” Basil enters, as he gets a chair and sits across us.

“Could we talk this through in another venue?” I said, fearing them, because the last time we had a fight, Basil was basically shouting my sex life for all to hear.

We drove to my condo in Makati, and we entered my room, where countless dates and memories were shared by me and them.

“What are we going to talk about?”

“I broke up with you, but I’m sorry. It’s been a fortnight, but you already replaced me with someone else? Do I need to beg you to take me back again?” Basil said.

“Please, we’ve been through this already.” I said, holding the door to a close.

“I take it back. I’m sorry.”

Take it back? My face seemed like it was under some mix of confusion and incredulously, Daniel sensed the story now.

“But he likes me now. He already told me that he likes me. So back off, you’re now only an ex.” Daniel said, while putting his arms around me and looking at Basil as hard as he can. He put his lips around mine, and I gasped.

“You fucking piece of shit!” Basil said as he shook with anger turning his fists and cheeks to a reddish hue.