Lilac

Chapter 1

I was twelve when I first met Skye. He was a beautiful boy even at 16. Other boys grew up looking brusque or flimsy. Skye was a balance of both. He had a sturdy chest but a lean body. He had a good height, and he spoke well and clearly. He was smart and made sure his clothes and everything he uses were neat and tidy.

My father, Antonio, or Tony to most people, sent out invitations to my 12th birthday party. He brought me along as he found me to have an important role in sending the invites to his friends, and that was how I met him. He was the youngest son of Uncle Mikey. When our eyes met, I knew that I loved him even though I had not completely understood what it meant or how I knew what I knew. I never even knew how to truly love someone. I only knew that I wanted him to know that and that I wanted to be with him. I followed him around, and we became inseparable.

I would invite him to my home, or I would be invited to their him. We had pet names for each other. He called me Lizzie, and I called him Skye. I was distraught when eventually all people also called him Skye. I tried to change the nickname I have for him, but he had always grown accustomed to being called Skye.

He had stayed by my side through the critical times of my life—when my dear grandmother died, when my mother left our home to elope with a younger man, when our great old dog, Brownie, died. The time I spent with him had been a blissful moment for me. It was also the most romantic I have ever known. Because of that, I also felt that it was challenging to get over this kind of love.

That was then, this time I lived with my aunt, Mabelle. She had a cottage in upper Baguio and a small inn beside it. It had a good overlooking view of the city, and that was why even though it was small, it was a prosperous place. Many backpackers would come in to get a view of the city at a more affordable price.

After having joined their home, I had been allowed by Aunt Mabelle to put up a small cafe in the same lot. It was equally as prosperous as the backpackers naturally went to my cafe every morning

Francisco, or Francis to me, was one of the backpackers that stayed over, and he told me he had fallen in love with the pancakes I served and eventually with me. He frequented the cafe until eventually I accepted his offer to become my boyfriend.

Today, we would be going to the city to watch the Panagbenga parade. It was one of the most awaited festivals in Baguio, and he had always wanted to go with me. I usually couldn't go because it was the busiest season for inns and restaurants, including my cafe. This time, we got a go-ahead from Aunt Mabelle. She would be looking after the place while we're gone to join the festival.

"Good morning," one of the backpackers greeted as I finished preparing the tables and my cousin, Aiden, had just put aside the detachable door from the frame. Aunt Mabelle thought the old-fashioned style would attract a lot of tourists, and of course she was right.

"Good morning," I smiled. "Table for one?"

"Two," he noted.

I nodded and led him to a table near the window, a small reward for my first customer that day.

"Wow, lovely scenery!" he exclaimed.

I couldn't help smiling over his appreciative gestures. He was one of the few jolly customers who would spend a time to mention the things he liked and would speak to us like normal people.

I handed him the menu to hide the bashfulness starting to brew inside me. He skimmed through the menu as if he had known it by heart and told me his order in less than a minute.

"Got it. Will be right back. I'll just leave here the menu for your companion." Upon his nod, I started to the kitchen to let my chef start on the orders.

Soon, my guest's lady friend came in and made a beeline to his table. While the man was particularly appreciative and vocal, his lady companion was rather quiet and somehow she stared at me as if she knew me.

I was all right at first, but as the minutes passed, the good mood that the first guest influenced started to dissipate and become a suspicious feeling in my gut. The man turned around to signal to me.

I took in a deep breath and hoped nobody noticed. I smiled to them. "Ready to order?"

"Eggs, bacon, and toast, and iced tea for her," he said in the while his companion stared at me and looked as if she had found out about something about me with a smile that looked unnatural even to the sight of children.

"Got it. Be right back," I said, doing my best to keep smiling.

Soon, people started to come in one after another. It was truly a blessing to have an aunt who has an inn and quite a prominent one at that among backpackers. It was as if this café was bound to be built here sooner or later, and I was blessed to have been the chosen person to put up this up.

The kitchen staff have started coming in and out of the office, and that's when I knew that Aunt Mabelle had come in for breakfast. As usual, she had requested longganisa, eggs, and fried rice—also my favorite breakfast combination. "Come have breakfast!" Aunt Mabelle called out as soon as she found me by the door.

I gave her a nod, telling her I already had my breakfast earlier.

Aunt Mabelle had worked behind the counter as a cashier and inventory manager when I started this café. She had taught me the ways as well as the most precious life philosophies. Her presence had been the very inspiration I had to keep this business going.

While the stories she had for us sounded lighthearted, her life story was sure to be a difficult one. She had only made it sound so easy to live a life as a single mother. She would credit it mostly to the money she had in her purse, but I understand it probably better than anyone that having money in the pocket was not enough to make it grow. The person having the money had to work on something out of it to make it grow.

When I appeared at her door, all she could think of was return me to Dad. I begged her practically on my knees to silence her and put down the phone she was holding.

Yes, I ran away. I ran away from the wedding I had dreamed of since I was little. I ran away from the man who I believed was the love of my life since I was 12 years old. I ran away because I woke up one day understanding that all of the things I did with him was a pretense. I woke up understanding that I didn't want to spend the rest of life in pretense and inauthenticity.

I had started to get a hang on things. When I first came here, there were things I used to cry about. I cried about having to sleep alone in a room with just a bed and a simple cabinet. There wasn't even a vanity table where I can look at myself and put on makeup. I wasn't even able to bring that many good dresses with me. I was so focused on being able to leave without being found out. I barely managed to pack the things I needed, or so I thought I needed during that time.

Even with all the things that happened, I still believe it was my first love even though it was a love that was gained and lost at the same time. I had him in my heart, but I never found a place in his heart. He probably had never even considered it. Sometimes, I would cry when I remember that fact.

Another thing to cry about is that I miss my family. I miss my parents, and I miss the security I feel when I wake up finding them in the breakfast table and when I tell them goodnight when I retire to my bedroom. Being here was completely different from being with my parents. Both had suffocating moments, and both are precious experiences for me. I am a woman capable of making things happen with Aunt Mabelle, while with my parents, I am a child of the rich and privileged.

"Excuse me." The same customer I first attended to this morning came to the counter.

"Yes?" I put down the ledger I was reviewing to face him.

"Do you happen to be open to a partnership?"

"Partnership?" That truly piqued my interest. "For what business?"

"My boss sent me to look for breakfast or coffee shops that are looking for an opportunity to have a branch in the metro," he said, handing to me a business card that shows his name and his position in his company. His name is Allen Reyes, and he works as a finance manager at Y.Q. Group. I stared at him for a while because it's not common to be handed over a business card from a finance manager. Typically, a marketing officer or a franchise officer would be scouting for new business partners. Finance managers are typically working behind a big desk figuring out what is causing so many expenses and what businesses and partnerships are making profits, and neither of them is him.

Another thing to wonder about is Y.Q. Group. I haven't heard of Y.Q. Group in my entire life, and I spent my life knowing all conglomerates in the country to make sure I'm able to find the right allegiances for the benefit of my father's business.

"I see," I nodded. "What is the main business of Y.Q. Group? Apologies for my ignorance." I stare into his eyes.

He chuckled. "We’re relatively new, really. We're a real estate company, and we're venturing into mall and entertainment recently, so we could, you know, follow the trend. As you may know, there are more real estate being built beside office sites and malls."

I nodded. "Yes, it's an interesting venture. If you could show me a proposal, then I might think about it."

He chuckled again. "You seem to be a well-educated woman to ask me of this."

I blinked. Why did that sound accusative?

"My parents enrolled me to a good school, I guess." I chuckled as I slip his business card to the pocket of my apron.

He nodded. "I'm sure they did. I'll return with a proposal and probably a marketing officer so that we could provide a better sales pitch. I'm obviously very bad at this."

"No, no, no. I'm…I guess it's just something that I'm used to. My aunt taught me well." I said.

Allen chuckled. "Um, we'll be going. Until then."

"Yes, see you!" I said.