To all the ghosts I married

3 : A i v a n

Hermia's POV

The boat feels heavy to push.

My palms used all of the force I have to push the wooden boat into the lake. Time may had passed to me and the world may look a little bit different now, but I still do have the strength and the stamina.

As the boat rock on the silent and calm lake, I jumped on it and seated myself.

I looked back to where Leandro is, and my stomach started turning upside down.

Is he going to be safe? Is he going to sleep all night long or is he going to wake up suddenly and look for my presence?

I am going to confess. I had drugged up his glass of water on his bed-side table. And when he was tired from our marital activities, he drank all of it.

But it was just to make sure he would never wake up. At least, after I got home from this trip. Plus, I made sure the dose was only right.

I don't wanna leave him. Of course, not when he's asleep and unconscious.

He doesn't know anything about this. And I would rather be swallowed by the land than to tell him.

I started paddling through the water. I had been prepared for today. Not just for our 3rd year anniversary, but also for this night.

I tried to move slowly and silently through the waters, and it felt like something may jump out of the water and eat me.

The only source of light in my hands is the oil lamp. Throughout the whole boat ride, it was very uncomfortable.

I was scared for three reasons;for my husband to know, for my husband to be held captive or worst case scenario, killed, and lastly: for my life.

I didn't really cared about my life back then. It was like a scratch of paper, torn or thrown away if no longer needed.

But the world seems to began rotating when I met Leandro. And I cannot leave him like that anymore. He'll be destroyed if I die. And I will not let that happen.

I was injected with fear and now, it was overflowing all over my system. And the night air was not very comforting.

It's coldness echoed deeply into my bones and in every nerve of me. It made me wanted to form into a ball and hug myself.

It's the same coldness that I felt when I found the letter earlier this morning. Every letter and every strokes felt like a bullet fired at me.

Like truth, slapped all over my face.

It had been a tough time but I managed to reach the neighboring town. I have been entertaining myself with these thoughts that I didn't even noticed I am already at my destination.

I had parked the boat somewhere dark, and made sure to lock it on the dock. I fixed my weed-colored cloak and walked away.

I had been clothed like Leandro. Wearing his clothes had somehow made me feel at ease; as if I am with him. I wore his brown slacks, his oak brown turtle neck with stained cream vest. I also wore his brown leather shoes.

I pinned my hair to my béret, and wore a fake mustache that we bought for Halloween.

The town was already dark and everyone must've been asleep.Well... maybe, an exception to those men who had kissed the brick floor vomitting every liters of alcohol on their body.

It was litten with yellow post lamps, that stood at each corners of the street. Those lights could even barely cover a diameter, and not even a street.

As I look at my reflection at the dusty and cracked glass of their local barn, I could say that I look decent. And if I were to have a son, I would pray to have him look like this.

As soon as I enter, greetings from tobacco and beer and rum combined also entered my nasal. It was full of men, and I made the right decision to dress up as a man.

I knew my plan had officially succeeded when I entered and no one even threw a gaze at me.

I looked at to where the bartender stood, and with a guy's normal voice, I said,

"One Old Edgar."

The bartender looked at me, and made an Old Edgar beer. I waited, and waited until he's done. I looked all around me, and I couldn't find him. Am I too early? Or too late?

And as soon as he handed over to me the glass of beer, I heard a loud voice from across the room

"Caridad!!! Caridad, Caridad, Caridad!" I looked to find a man with his arms wide open approaching to my seat. I flinched, and looked at everyone around me.

No one cared about both of us, by the way. They may be blind or deaf or trying to be one.

"My dear, dear, DEAREST CARIDAD!!!"

And before I could even recognize this guy who was just shouting from across the room, He had already hugged me and twirled me, lifting me above the ground.

I almost shriek, until I remember men don't shriek no matter how surprise they are.

He is quiet muscular, and smelled of office perfumes. He looked like a typical John who has many acquaintances.

I looked at him, and I remembered,

"What are you doing in here?" I was only five when he showed up at our front door. He was muttering things I could not understand, or could no longer remember.

They were shouting and screaming and doing signs I do not know anything about. And I was just a little girl, hiding and holding at my mom's jacket as they both fight and raise their voices at each other.

"Who is she?" He asked and pointed at me. "My daughter, Caridad." And everything became silent.

He said something, and then just left. Mom shut the door loudly enough for our door frames to c***k, and pushed me aside.

I was the only one frozen at what happened, staring directly at the door.

But I am no longer staring at a door. Or five anymore. I am already 29, and I am staring at this man with his China blue eyes.

He was no longer young, and he had grown hair on his face. His head was shaved cleanly as far as I could remember, his skin was firm.

Now, he looked like a real man. The same man who wrote me a letter earlier this morning. The same man who is now a threat to me and to Leandro.

The moment I found a letter under a doorstep, I knew that I am already in trouble. Because both of our mails are not located directly into our house.

And to find such letter, means that they had found me. He looked at me head to toe, and with such audacity he asked,

"A-are you lesbian, or something? Why do you look like that?"

"No, I'm not." I defensed in a higher pitch. "I mean, I wouldn't mind if you are."

Let's cut this bullshitery. With daring eyes, I slapped the letter on the table.

To my dearest Caridad; or to whatever name you're using,

/Meet me at the neighboring town's local bar and order for Old Edgar's Beer at 3 AM. I miss you so much.

Love,

The only brother you have

I had read every single letter of it. I had magnified and look for other clues. I memorized every single stroke of it and every up and downs. He casually took the letter, and opened it.

"Who are you?" I asked confusingly.

"I thought mother taught you how to read." He also said, confusingly.

"Oh, apologies. I'm so sorry, I'm Aivan. Your older brother."

My head started rambling things and my face painted sour. "Look at you Caridad, you've grown up to be such a fine lady. Come, come, let's sit down."

He said, in irony of what I was wearing. He rest his hand on my shoulders and guided me to where his table was. It was at a green leather couch, with a table in between.

I sat there, placing my Old Edgar Beer in front of us. I looked at him, and all of a sudden,

"Ahhh!"

"Sorry about that. You look funny." And threw my fake mustache away. He peeled it off all suddenly and I felt my natural facial hair had been peeled off too.

The sensation was burning, and my eyebrows had finally reunited with each other.

"So, what name did you give yourself now?" he asked, even if I knew he had already knew me.

"Hermia."

"I do prefer the Caridad more." He honestly said. Hermia and Caridad are both beautiful name, only if I had good memories with being Caridad.

But I had troubled ones, and I feel disgusted if Leandro would call me that way.

"Would you like anything? Cakes? Dessert? Not just the crepe because it's still 3 hours before the sunrise." He said and look at the counter table.

"I would like you to stay away from me." I said directly. He drank a sip of his whiskey, and looked at me."I see."

His eyes had been shined with all the yellow lights, and it showed pureness. "I see that you've runaway from home. I also see that you've been married to the next town's local librarian."

Of course, he knew. He already knew the moment he found me in that town.

"But I didn't came here to bring war. I promise you."

His phrases brought silence to me. If this is some form of witchery that he is using to lure me in to his trap, I should stop right now.

"I know that you've been living a normal life now, and believe me, that's truly what I want for you. That's truly what I wished for you to have."

"But why did you just showed up now? I mean, How could you become my brother when I had not grew up with you? W-Where were you all these years? How come mother never told me anything about you?" I could not stop my doubts. I feel rightful to be confused and lost.

"I resented both of them. I curse them with every fiber of my being." He said, and I felt attacked because somehow, they were still my parents.

"If you were really my brother, you won't be talking to them in that way."

"Let me tell you one thing straight," He said, before continuing on saying something that would change my whole existence:

"She is not your mother. And he? He is not your real father."

And I felt the world cave in. As if it had shattered into pieces and left me all alone.

S-she was not my mother??? Then who was SHE then? All my life, I had treated her with all respect and love. And even my own father was not my father???? Then does that mean that all of the things I had done for them meant nothing anymore??? How could this be? How could all of these be real???

"Yeah, cut the dramatic thoughts." He said, as if he could hear my thoughts out loud. I took a sip of the beer and looked further away from him.

"What matters is you are free from them, and you now live normally." Aivan added.

Yes, he was right. It doesn't matter if they were my parents or not. Because the moment I left that house, they were long gone; erased from my memory.

"Then wouldn't that mean we do not have anymore connections?" I asked.

"No."

"You and I are both bound by the same people who we thought was family. And no matter how you do not want to be connected with me, well you are."

What he said was true. He was the only family I have, aside from Leandro. We shared the same pain, the same experience, and the same life ruined by two people.

We talked for a long, long time.

He told me how he was raised at Shanghai, China and how our parents were only teenagers back then when he came in. He told me about the beautiful city, of his childhood and how when he was 15 he was taken by a military truck.

My heart seems to melt as I listen to him more. But I didn't mind, and he keep on going.

He trained on a private Army where he had become an assassin up until now. He narrated how he was trained, the same way as I was trained but way harder.

He spent a good five years in that facility, and the moment he got out, he went back to ask mother why they did it to him.

Only to find me.

I grew and grew confused but somehow, it made sense. In return, I also told him about my story, and how I runaway when I was 22.

I also told him how I had a "grandma", and how I finally started to learn how to cook Filipino dishes because I'm a Filipino.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!"

He laughed at me for identifying myself as a Filipino. That was the most annoying and insulting laugh I had ever heard all my life.

"Listen, I lived in Shanghai but I didn't ran around telling people I'm Chinese, Hahahahha!"

"And what are you?" I asked in return. I knew it from afar that he could not be my brother. He is white and blonde, while Mother and Father are both Asians.

"I am half american." He proudly said, the same proudness I had when I told him I cook Filipino cuisines.

"And what makes you think that?" I interrogated him, and he answered with the most dumbest answer ever.

"Because, I'm.... blonde? And white?"

And I laughed out loud. I had laughed at how dumb he was.

"Are you dumb? Didn't you know that american are not the only blondes in the world? You could be Canadian, European, Russian, or even like-- I don't know, British?"

"It doesn't mean that you're white, you're american." I giggled.

"How about you? What makes you believe that you're asian? Look at asia. It's the biggest continent. There's more countries other than Philippines."

"Because.... it's the only thing I knew. It's the only country I could somehow call my home."

"I look like Filipina, I cook filipino cuisines, my hair is black, my nose is flat, and my skin is dark."

"And so was Malaysian. Or Thailander. Or Indonesian. Maybe Brunei, but who knows?"

"Yeah... Who knows who we truly are and where we came from."

"Yeah."

My answer hit hard and made both of us silent. I looked away, and drank my beer. It felt awkward and he did the same way. It was just so sad for us.

The only family I could call family was not real. And they used me for years.

Who the f**k knows who we are? No one could pin point who were our true parents, and what's our true nationality. Maybe they gave us to them, or maybe not. Maybe they've been looking for us, maybe they weren't.

Who knows? Who's to tell?

"You know what?" He said, breaking the silence. "Let's just laugh at your cuisine and my blonde hair, okay? Let's not think about it too deeply."

I laughed at him, and he laughed at me back. "Yeah, you're right. Let's just laugh at our foolishness."

And somehow, it was funny for both of us; identifying ourselves through our color and through the way we cook food.

I looked at my wrist watch and it was almost 4. We had been talking for an hour already, and somehow, I felt comfortable with him.

At first, it was awkward, like any stranger that you would meet. But he was a loud and jolly man, always joking and talking about himself.

He looked like the brother I wanted to have. And now I do.

"It's almost morning. My husband rises up early. But before I go home, can I ask you something?"

His eyes deepen and became serious. And I know that he had already figured out what I wanted to ask him.

"If they were not our parents, then, who are they?"

I wouldn't necessarily ask questions like this, but it bugs me. And I just wanna know. I need to know.

"Well,"

He said, and let out a sigh. "Maybe if you would visit your only brother again the next time, maybe I'll tell you more."

And he followed it with a big smile. I laughed at him, and took my coat.

"God, I couldn't believe I'll be rowing my boat again in the middle of the night just to see you." I said with an exhale and took my coat to the front door.

"Oh, stop being dramatic. I even bought this whole town's bar so I could be one drive away from you." He howled.

"What??? Why would you do that?" I said in between chuckles. "I told you, I wanted to be close to you." He sincerely said. I didn't know how to respond and I might sound cold.

"Aivan, can you please not let Leandro know?" I pleaded. "I-It's not like I'm ashamed of you, it's just--"

"I don't wanna caught up with my past anymore. I don't wanna be tangled with who I was."

And it broke silence between us. It felt really weird, but not something that I would fear. Just awkward.

He stared at me, and suddenly, he hugged me.

"You don't have to explain. I understand, Hermia." He said, and called me by name.

"I'm gonna get going." I said, and stepped back.

"Alright. Thank you for meeting me here." He said, when I was about to turn back. "Thank you too, Aivan."

"Okay, Bye!!!" He happily waved at me. I waved back, and continued walking to where my boat was.

In a blow of a wind, something started becoming eerie. It felt heavy, and I started becoming confused with what just happened;

The talk with him, his story, his claim about our parents, and my true identity.

"Hermia."

Aivan called out on me. My neck wishes not to rotate, my breathing finally stopped.

I looked back at him, and he stood there; frozen at the place I left him.

"Here." And threw something into the air. As I caught it in my hand,

I saw it was a gum.

"Chew some gum. Make sure he wouldn't smell the beer." Aivan jested. "Oh, thanks." I said and started walking back.

I opened the wrapper and started chewing it. The boat was still in its place, wasn't even moved. I rushed to row once again on the lake, brisking throungh the waters.

As I row and the town had been completely out of my sight, I started to think clearly.

It was still dark, but I could see shadows and light coming from up above.

20 footsteps, small fast gaps in between, heels touching first. He is right handed, but his left foot was dominant and always steps first. His breathing was still and controlled, he smelled of shampoo, his tongue sounds every time he opens his mouth, and he has China blue eyes.

He was wearing a hickory turtleneck, and an oat-colored slacks, ironed perfectly. His black leather shoes has a metal at its heel, and seems shallow.

His blanched-colored coat was sitting at his side, all throughout the whole time, covering a belt of gun.

He was bringing two guns, and he was hiding it from me.

It's odd. Truly, truly odd.

Is he here to kill me? Or here to bring me back into hell? Is he truly my brother? Or he's lying?

I couldn't really tell, but I know that I shouldn't trust him now. Before reaching our house, I spit the mint gum he had gave me.

In a swift, I finally reached our house. Again, I pulled the boat into the land. I placed it in the same position that we could see it from our bedroom window, as if nothing happened.

With wide gaps, I walked into our front door. Nothing happened, thank god.

My footsteps was always silent, however I tend to walk loudly so Leandro would know that it was me.

When I reached the bedroom, Leandro was still sleeping in the same way I left him asleep, the bedsheets barely moved.

I stripped my clothes down and hid it at the deepest of the hamper, and quickly jumped into the bed naked.

As my back touched the bed, I feel at ease. I closed my eyes, and for what I could felt like seconds, the sun was shining into my eyes.

And Leandro started moving around the bed, letting out a yawn, before I could realize,

I haven't even slept yet.

He pulled me into his arms, and whispered,

"Good morning."