Valeria

            There was something so disarming about seeing her naked form. Consuelo Delgado.             Every shudder that broke through her pale skin, every pant and every cry. The raw, uninhibited parts of her she allowed me to see. It was our body chemistry, and for it, I was in my element with her. In the south, they said her father was gypsy. A man without honor. A thief. But sometimes they said he was a war hero. A soldier. Said he bravely fought in the war and dug the tunnels through the very soil that we walked on.             But that was already a long time ago. There was no need for war because right in front of me was his daughter, the one who brought peace and harmony in the c*****e in my mind.             Even if it was just for one night.             “Oh…” Umawang ang kaniyang mga labi, bahagyang binubuka upang makalanghap ng hangin.             Batid kong mas sariwa at mas maalat ang hangin ng isla namin kaysa sa kung saan man siya nanggaling. Sa ilang beses kong pabalik-balik sa buhangin dito at sa aspalto roon ay masasabi kong walang katumbas ang malayang himpapawid ng Silangan.             And like all the sorts of direction, her face went on each as it contorted such pleasure that shook with a magnitude.             “Ah…” she purred.             Standing naked as the day she was born, her body, too, rode the pleasure in waves. The womanly mewls coming out of her mouth were making a few dents in my head that I would like to be cracked open so the madness fully goes out. Maybe it was real – the stories they made up about her family, royal but cursed, to stay filthy rich until their bones withered away.             But this? I was bound under no spell. I was simply a man, already turning mad just seeing her reach her end. And she was there with me. A wandering soul on earth. Perhaps the kind that nearly had everything. Nearly.             Because if it wasn’t, then what was she doing here in my arms in Christmas Eve, half-drunk and hundreds of miles away from her husband?             “Oh…” Pumikit itong mariin at pilit na binalanse ang pagkakatayo sa aking harapan.             Ilang minuto lamang ay kabaligtaran ng kaniyang marahang mga halinghing ang kaniyang marahas na mga sigaw at hatak. Tila ba isang nagwawalang leon ngunit sa ilang tulak at balik ay naging isang diwatang nagdidiwang sa katapusan ng isang sigwa.             The Delgado heiress sighed, eyes still closed with her mouth slightly hanging open. I was right. She was indeed one – a soul who calmed the powerful waves of the seas and caught the thunderbolts summoned by the dark sky. My dark sky. Consuelo did not belong in the notorious bloodline of Don Apollo but here in my arms, with the sea and the open air next to us as we f****d like it was our religion.             Ang nag-iisang aking pinagsisihan lamang ay ang hindi pagpapakilala. Kung sana ay hindi niya nilasing ang sarili sa kalungkutan kanina ay maaaring nalaman niyang nagtagpo ulit ang aming landas. Like we always did back in Manila. But meeting her here in Siargao, seeing her walk on the white sand that I grew up in…             The gods must truly be playing with me, knowing this time, I wouldn’t resist the descendant they sent. But I found that hard to believe. She was no godsent but a premonition.             To destroy me finally or to build me up, I didn’t know. I couldn’t f*****g know. All that I knew was, she was moaning and whimpering in front of me without me having the chance to hear it in my name.             Tom. Tommy. Thomas.             Whatever the hell she pleased as long as it was my name and not some random monosyllabic whine.             Bumagsak lamang ang lahat ng iyon sa katotohanang hindi niya ako kilala. Kahit sa ilang beses naming pagtatagpo sa Maynila. Para sa kaniya, isa lamang akong lalaking dumating at lumipas sa kaniyang buhay. Maaaring iyakan at hanapin ngunit hindi ipaglalaban. Hindi katulad ng kaniyang asawa na siyang dahilan ng kaniyang pagpunta sa isla.             She didn’t know me. I was just an islander. Out of her league of fancy parties and portrait paintings. She was royalty while I picked coconuts for a living.             And her husband, the Santa Romana prince, was a one big p***y.             Palipat-lipat ang kaniyang mga mata sa kaniyang mukha. The booze we drank earlier already left my system, replaced by something much stronger and more long-lasting – the smell of her hair, the shape of her waist, the two little dimples on her back which I noticed earlier when I was pounding her from behind. Binasa nito ang mga labi at unti-unting yumakap sa akin.             “Hmm. Let’s sleep…” bulong niya.             Inikot ko ang isang braso sa kaniyang baywang upang saluhin. Ilang beses akong tumango sa gilid ng kaniyang mukha, binibigyan siya ng isang kasiguraduhang pinapangako kong kaya kong ibigay.             I was staring blankly at the wall with no specific reason. It was some random hotel room that I doubt she would remember tomorrow morning. But as for me, the dark wooden walls of the suite I booked would forever be embedded in my mind.             For a full minute, I stood still, feeling the sweat on her neck and chest seep under my skin. Her rapid heartbeats gradually turned slow, the indication that she had fallen asleep.             I looked up, leaving a string of broken curses. “Merry f*****g Christmas, Delgado…”             Or should I say Santa Romana? Consuelo Santa Romana? Didn’t roll off the tongue. Too shabby.             It took me quite a few minutes before I was able to properly place her on top of the bed. The soft mattress easily engulfed her soft body. Before I was able to stop myself, I was already looking. At her heart-shaped face, at her delicate hands, at the tiny, almost non-visible cleft on her chin. At the heartbeat tattoo she had earlier at the side of her wrist. Those were the ones I didn’t see before when we were both swimming in lust.             Ilang beses kong pinasadahan ng tingin ang kaniyang payapang mukha. She looked exactly like what tomorrow would be when the sun shined in all of us. A Christmas morning.             Like always, I felt a fire gushing through my bloodstreams. I was like a firecracker waiting to be ignited. I thought it was only her unseen parts that had me going crazy but it seemed like everything about her did.             “What the f**k are you? Fifteen?” I looked down at the tenting on my shorts I had the decency to wear when I cleaned her up.             Bago pa man may kung ano isipin o tingnan ay tuluyan kong tinabunan ng comforter ang kaniyang katawan. Panay ang mura ko sa sarili habang naglalakad palayo sa kama. I didn’t dare look back because if I would, I might scare her off and myself after. She was married for f**k’s sake. I was only a man. I couldn’t afford to play god, could I?             So, what exactly was I doing?             “Beatus…” she sighed.             Panandaliang nanigas ang aking likuran bago dumiretso ng lakad. Tumungo ako sa balkonahe, dahan-dahang binubuksan at sinasara ang salaming pintuan. Sinalubong ako kaagad nang malakas na simoy ng hanging galing pa sa dalampasigan. Mas maaliwalas ang mga hagupit dahil buwan ng Disyembre. Taglamig at matataas ang mga alon.             “Beatus,” I snorted.             She didn’t even utter my name. Only that. Her husband, her only love and sworn to be her forever other half. But I shouldn’t feel angry, yes?             I put the both of my hands atop of the balustrade and looked down below. Nagkakasayahan sa ibaba. May iilang turistang sumasayaw sa gitna ng bonfire habang hawak ang kanilang mga inumin. To subdue the cold Christmas Eve winds, I grabbed a cigarette stick and lit it, covering it lightly with my other hand.             “Eleven fifty-three,” the big LED screen down below displayed.             Kasabay ng pagbalik ng mga alon ang pagtakas ng usok ng mula sa aking mga labi. Umabot hanggang sa balkonahe ang tawanan ng mga tao galing sa ibaba. Hatinggabi na. Sigurado akong tulog na si Parker. Baka pinilit matulog para pagkagising ay bubuksan na ang ipinangako kong mga regalo sa kaniya sa Pasko.             With that thought in my mind, I looked over my shoulder. Consuelo Delgado had now turned in her sleep, her naked back facing me. Muli kong ibinalik ang tingin sa karagatan at sa mga punong pumapalibot dito. Kahit saan ako tumingin ay nakatarak ang mga puno ng niyog. Sa buhangin, sa lupa at kahit sa mababaw na tubig.             In a way, those trees were like the dead bodies in my head. All piling up around my feet, and sometimes when it was too much, I had to drag them all just so I could get out of the room. They just wouldn’t go away. Rooted deep in the sand just like they were in my mind. And they all exactly looked alike, bearing the one face that I couldn’t seem to forget.             Muling bumalik ang mga alon sa dalampasigan. I puffed out smoke as if we were in sync.             I forgot his bloody face for a while when I was having her. It was difficult not too. The woman was beautiful. Not the soft and cute type. No. Consuelo had a timeless beauty that transcended gender distinctions. Everybody wanted a piece of her, idealized or not. With an elegance like hers, we were all like the sand of the island – under her feet, watching her walk with her head held high.             The heiress was a masterpiece but what drew me in was how she looked at me. At the bartender. At the random people in the party earlier. It made me a bit jealous but I figured that it was how she looked at the world.             Like she owned it.             And she was just like me. Nobody had looked at me like that for a very long time. So, when I recognized it, it was hard to forget. That maybe, just maybe, she could understand because she, a child of the crown, bold and noble, could be just like me, a common man.             “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas, everyone!” sigaw ng mga tao sa ibaba.             Mas lalong lumakas ang musika. Nagtilian ang mga tao. Muli kong nilingon ang babaeng nakahiga sa kama sa takot na siya ay magising. Napamura ako nang makitang maayos kong naisarado kanina ang pintuan.             That was how I spent my Christmas Eve that year. Had a one-night stand with a married woman whom I didn’t love. No. At least not yet. Maybe dreamed a life with or without her. Stared out into the open sea as if my dead brother would resurrect because they said Jesus was born at that time although he didn’t come close to the Messiah.             My brother didn’t walk on water. He went straight to hell and didn’t come back. After all, it was him who killed himself.