Truthfully, while Rafayel has been very responsive and complimentary toward me, I still feel like I haven’t gotten to know him well enough yet. It’s a small detail that’s been tickling at my brain like an itch I can’t scratch. I don’t know if it’s just me being wholly dramatic though, as usual.
“Spill,” Ria prods, nudging me after I stay silent for a beat.
“Ugh, okay. I don’t know, I just feel like I’m not getting to know him properly.”
Ria scrunches her brow, confused, “What do you mean properly?”
At that, I fish out my phone. Might as well show Ria the hard evidence. I open it up on our recent conversations, and hand it to her.
“Here, just read through our conversations. You’ll see what I mean.”
After a minute or so, Ria thrusts the phone back into my hands. I gauge her reaction. It isn’t good - in fact, she looks almost disgusted.
“I don’t like him.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
“What?”
“He feels sleazy. I don’t know, I just don’t have a good feeling. He feels like a fuckboy.”
I recoil at the comment, defensiveness stirring within me. Maybe Ria just read it all wrong. Surely she is. There’s no way that the sweet boy from the bookstore is a good-for-nothing fuckboy. He can’t be. Not when we had our perfect meet cute.
I shake my head.
“You’re just being over protective.”
“I’m not. I don’t like him, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Her sceptic words brandish in my brain, leaving a chill over my body. I could be upset at Ria, call her unsupportive. Yet, as we drive home from Church, I can’t shake the part of me that fears she could be right.
Easter Sunday celebrations soon arrive, with the day packed with gatherings. For lunch, I’ve been invited to Marlon’s Tita’s house. I’d never been invited to a gathering on his Dad’s side before, but since I’m his‘girlfriend’now, that’s all changed.
Then tonight, Tita Lucillia is hosting a quaint dinner. I told Mum I could stay with them during the day since they don’t have any plans, but Mum insisted I go with Marlon.
We arrive at his Tita Linda’s house just a little past midday. She lives a little closer to the city, so the drive is a little far from where Marlon and I are based. As we reach the front door, I pause, my heart beating nervously. I’ve never really met this side of Marlon’s family, outside of Tita Regina’s side, so this is a first for me.
“What’s wrong?” Marlon asks, sensing the shift in my composure.
I shuffle from side to side.
“Just a little stage fright,” I joke, “This is a big audience. To, you know, act to.”
A look crosses Marlon’s features, but it quickly softens before I can read what that was. He reaches down, and gently clasps his fingers around mine. Usually, I’d jolt back, but this time I don’t. I hold onto him a little tighter, comforted by his presence. I notice that the crescent moon keychain I’d bought him is hanging on his pouch.
“Come on, they won’t bite,” he teases, and the lightness eases some of the stress.
We both step through. Much of his family are sitting outside in the pergola, and the smell of barbecue wafts through the air. My stomach grumbles agreeably.
They all turn to us enthusiastically once we step through the sliding door, and together, Marlon and I make our rounds of necessary greetings. Imano pothe elderly, smiling at some of the unfamiliar but kind faces.
They’re all smiling at me so widely, so happily, that for a moment I could pretend this is real. That I’m really meeting my boyfriends’ family.
Food has already been served, so Marlon and I make our way back inside to grab some. He’s still holding my hand. Realising that, he drops it.
“I think you did pretty well out there, for an act Garcia,” he teases, but the words send a pang through me. Just like that, the illusion is broken.
As we eat, many of his relatives ask us how we got together. We alternate telling the same tale, of how we’ve known each other since we were children and only recently found ourselves falling for each other. After an hour, I begin to tire from repeating the same thing.
