Romance of the Four Juans

Track 07

Jigo is beyond exhausted. He hasn’t slept well in days. His group, after thorough negotiations, has decided not to resign from the company and finally disband, so he’s feeling a little under the weather. While he was still thinking about what to do moving forward, he decided to go back to his father’s house and seek advice from the elders. He rushed to get to an early morning flight. Unlike the first time he came to meet his father, this time he actually brought with him two suitcases full of personal items, having cleared out his dorm. He should’ve gone straight home. Instead, he stopped to have lunch with George, his kapatid sa binyag. Except, when he arrives at their meeting place, George immediately hauls him into hair and make-up and then wardrobe and, before he knew it, he’s doing a photoshoot for him. He became an immediate stand in for a model who got into an accident on his way to the shoot.

Jigo tried to listen well to George’s instructions with every click of the camera but he couldn’t help but sulk at the man every time he paused to look at the pictures taken. George paid him no mind and acted oblivious to his sulking. After that set, he was made to wait a bit more.

Jigo realized that he shouldn’t have trusted George’s words so easily when he said they'd be done soon. He should’ve trusted his long-standing experience in the entertainment industry that a simple photoshoot could take hours. Now, the supposed lunch date is postponed and moved to dinner where George tries to appease him with all of his favorite food while they try to catch up with each other’s lives. When Jigo gets up to leave after dinner, George dissuades him, playing at his heartstrings once more, asking him to pity him and join him for a drink, citing his failed engagement as a good reason to have alcohol.

“That relationship ended a year ago, kuya.”

“Six months! It’s only been six months, Jigo!”

Jigo sighs but accompanies him anyway, lets him vent and drink all he wants while he stays sober. In the midst of George’s drunkenness, Jigo managed to make him stand as a temporary manager and had him stamp his fingerprint on a piece of paper where he wrote that agreement. The moment he was through venting, George passes his car keys over to him and for a moment they both forget that Jigo doesn’t know how to drive.

Jigo looks at the time. If he leaves now, he might be able to reach his father’s house before Kiko goes to bed at around midnight. “I’ll take the bus.”

“And leave me here alone?”

Jigo groans at how clingy George is. He couldn’t shrug him off because he kept placing himself in George’s shoes, like he always does. What if it was him who got dumped a week before the wedding? Assured that George would do the same for him, he waited with him at the side of the road as he tried to sober up. He even escorts him to the restroom and pats his back as George tries to force himself to vomit everything he had taken in, hoping it will sober him up quicker.

When George finally was sober enough to drive, they got into his offroad jeep, listened, and sang to love songs playing on the radio and waited patiently for the traffic to get a move on. Only a fifteen-minute drive left before they reach their destination, George announces yet again that he’s now feeling sleepy and needs a cup of coffee that he did not brew himself. The gods must favor the man because there’s surprisingly still an open coffee shop along the way, something that doesn’t serve instant coffee as he wished.

Jigo doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry when he sees that it’s now forty-five minutes past midnight. It has truly been a long day for him. All he wanted was to get home. How did it turn into an escapade? “You better let me crash at your place now, kuya. I don’t want to disturb anyone at the house anymore.”

“Do you want anything?”

Jigo shakes his head, reclines the passenger’s seat, and shuts his eyes. His back hurts terribly, an old ailment that haunts him whenever he overexerts himself. He’s been sitting in awkward positions all day while trying to get some shut eye. The pain he’s feeling is a telling sign that he needs to lie down, preferably on a soft mattress. And as he tried to forget the throbbing pain in his small back, he allowed his consciousness to drift him off to sleep along with the soft, soothing music playing on the radio, that is until he was jolted awake by a knock on the window. He’s startled to find a girl there.

The girl grins at him and even waves her hand to greet him hello. He realized he knew her, and his heart felt a sharp pain as he moved too quickly to look at her closely. She removes her hat and reveals a bob of curly brown hair and light brown eyes. They’ve met for sure, sat in close proximity inside a car with a crying man, but he doesn’t think they’ve been introduced properly. All he remembers is the name he heard Kiko call her, HB, whatever HB stood for. Stepping out of the vehicle, Jigo realized how short she was, having tiptoed just to peer through the window of George’s off-road jeep.

She spoke first, her first words to him, “Welcome home,” placed a bright smile and a warmth that sprang forth from his heart to every vein in his body. “Do you remember who I am?”

“You’re Kuya Kiko’s friend, HB.”

She grins and puts back the hat on her head. “I’m also George’s next-door neighbor.”

Jigo’s eyes widened at the revelation. What crazy coincidence is that?

“I’m sorry, but would you do me a favor and walk me home?” Jigo was stumped into silence. He stood there looking at her. All traces of sleep are now lost as they looked at each other for a really long time. He probably shouldn’t decline, but why is he being asked? Where did she even come from? “Truth is, George got enchanted by my friend and they both shooed me away. They’re now trying to get to know each other in depth. They’re going to take a while. As that is the case, George said I should lead you back to his place, so you can rest.”

Jigo can’t help but laugh now. He can’t believe that he’s been completely led to follow George’s pace all day long. He opens the car door again, takes his own cap, wears his hooded parka, and the backpack containing his spare clothes. She said to walk her home. The last time he walked a girl home was in high school, back when he had always carried a guitar on his back more than his books. Those were good times.

“It’s only a five-minute walk from here.”

Jigo debated about walking for five minutes. It will hurt for sure, but he doesn’t want to show that he’s in pain, so he endures like he always does. So, they walked side by side along the almost empty streets, making small, careful conversations under the dark, starless sky.

“May I ask what your name stands for?”

“It doesn’t stand for anything.”

“Your name is literally just those two letters?”

“No. HB is a label granted by peers in high school. HB is short for Head b***h in Charge. Kiko changed the meaning later, and called me Honey Bunny. He said it’s because I am a rabbit who has a fondness for bees. But HB can be anything you want it to be.”

“What is your real name?”

“It’s Hanabi.”

“Hanabi.” Jigo repeats that countless times in his head. “What type of the usual Filipino naming system does your name fall into? Were you named after a saint, a mix of your parents’ names perhaps?”

“Why? Were you named after a saint?”

“Nah. Jigo, as far as I know, is a combination of my grandparents’ names, Jignasa and Godofredo. It’s a good enough name. It could have been worse. I could’ve been Goji instead.” He makes her laugh. “I don’t know about the Juan part though. It may just be a name my mother liked. Or it could also be my father’s parents’ names combined. But I haven’t found out what their names are to say it for sure. I should know, right?”

“Your guess is as good as any other. Uncle Dante mentioned it once, that his parents are called Justina and Anselmo. Ju and An. Juan. You were named well. Juan Jigo.”

She grins and so does he. He felt a little bashful even, that he kicked a pebble out of the way. “Then what about your name?”

“If you must know, my name has a Japanese origin.” She stops and looks up at the dark sky. “It means fireworks.”

The way she said it while looking at the sky made Jigo grin much brighter, his disappearing dimples showing themselves on his cheeks. He was sure that in her mind, the dark sky exploded with colorful rays of light because, in his heart, it felt as if fireworks did light up that dark sky.