Number One Fan

CHAPTER 4

WE ARRIVED HOME at past eleven o' clock. My sister Joyce and I inherited from our parents' a 50’s style bungalow that maintained it well. Two steps up led to the narra door. It opened to a living room with a red-orange L-shaped couch to match the shiny wooden floor. An open shelf served as a divider between the living and dining rooms. The dining table had a glass top that pressed an avocado green tablecloth. On the right, two bedroom doors faced each other and a bathroom stood between. The kitchen opened beside the bedroom door on the left. A counter top divided the kitchen and the dining area.

Joyce has not arrived yet when we entered the house. She worked as a part-time crew in a pizza parlor after her classes.

“Come in,” I said to Alex. “Want another cup of coffee?”

“Sure,” he said.

We went straight to the dining table and Alex sat on a chair. I took two cups from the kitchen and began making instant coffee for us.

“I still couldn’t get over that prank call,” I said as I put on coffee granules to each cup.

“That’s just a prank call, Regine,” Alex said.

“Then how could you explain the man who was standing there at the fence earlier?” I asked while putting in some creamer in each cup.

“It was just a coincidence,” he reasoned out. “Just don’t think about it.”

“And would you also consider it a coincidence seeing David at the restaurant, too?” I asked while putting in sugar and hot water.

I handed him his cup of coffee and sat on a chair beside him as I stirred my cup.

“He was with Professor Anacleto,” he said while stirring his cup of coffee. “Remember, it was Professor Anacleto who led the negotiations of the merger. They may be discussing something else … we don’t know…”

I did not reply. The haunting memory eighteen years ago entered my mind again.

“Is there anything wrong?” he asked after taking a sip. “You seem so quiet.”

“Oh, nothing,” I said as I shook my head. “I just remembered something.”

I took a sip of my coffee as I tried to cast away that memory. I just could not tell anyone what happened that fateful day, not even to Joyce, to David, or to Alex.

“Come on, tell me,” Alex said as he held my hand.

His grip on my hand relieved me of my fears. He leaned to me and whispered something in my ear.

“I love you, Regine,” he said. “I’ll always be here for you.”

I smiled back and whispered, “Alex…”

He put his finger on my chin and let me face him. He brushed his lips on mine as he wrapped his arms around me. I put my hands on his shoulders and tried to push him away. But he was strong when he kissed my lips with a passion that I could not resist. In a few seconds, I felt comfortable in his arms as well as his kisses.

The door opened and Joyce came in.

“Good evening,” I heard her say.

Alex and I turned and looked at her. I felt Alex hands releasing me as they stared and smiled at each other. I put my hands down.

“You’re much better than the evening,” he said smiling.

Joyce did not smile and went straight to her room.

As soon as I heard her door close, I said, “You flatter women too much.”

“I do not," he said. "To tell you the truth, you’re the most beautiful because you’re the eldest sister.” Alex winked at me and sipped his coffee.

ALEX LEFT PAST MIDNIGHT. I sat by the window and stared at the dark, starry sky. At some part of the metropolis, fireworks lit up for the Chinese New Year. Chinese New Year and Valentine’s Day occurred in the same week. Romance and fireworks together would be a good coincidence.

The memory of our dinner and the haunting memory eighteen years ago played in my mind. The sumptuous food mixed with the images of Baby Joyce beside me. The flowers Alex gave me distracted the shouts I have heard. His kiss and embrace melted the image of the bloody knife that killed my mother. Alex’s charismatic face kept on appearing when I tried to remember the murderer.

I noticed Joyce standing at a distance. At eighteen, Joyce stood taller, her skin much fairer, and her slim body emphasized her curves. We were half sisters that grew up without our respective fathers.

“Something happened between you and Alex?” she asked.

“None,” I replied. “He just kissed me when you saw us. We just arrived from a dinner date.”

“I don’t buy that,” she said with sarcasm. “You’re here with him alone and nothing happened?”

“I said, we just arrived before you came,” I reiterated.

“Humph, you’d better stop pretending,” she said. “I wonder if the public knows the other side of a famous news reporter like you.”

Then she went inside the bathroom. I do not know why Joyce sounded that way. Was it her way of teenage rebellion? Does she not like Alex as my boyfriend?