forbidden fruit

paul woke up with an unbearable headache and found the whole country in grief. it was two in the afternoon and the room was bursting with the summer sun that penetrated through the glass sliding doors that led to the terrrace. he forgot to shut the blinds last night before he went to sleep. he felt sticky and hot. he was bathed in sweat.

for a while, it hurt to open his still drowsy eyes.

with his eyes shut, he groped for the strings on the side of the door and closed the blinds. with his eyes now opened and the room enveloped in the darkness, he found the tv's remote control underneath the pillow and opened the cold, black, fifty-inch gadget mounted on the wall. the room was now sparkling with the lights and vibrant colours emanating from the television. then he headed to the bathroom to wash his face and look for medicines for his headache and hang over.

before he could even wash his face and swallow panadols to ease the paralyzing pain on his head, he heard the tv shouting the shocking headline for the day that drew tears, shock and sorrow from millions of women, young and old, around the country: the death of the biggest young male actor in the local film industry -- dennis fuentes.

he froze but quickly recovered. he forgot about his hang over and his throbbing headache. he searched for his mobile phone. this can't be true, he was shouting to the empty room. he threw away pillows, blankets, books and magazines that were lying on his bed as he frantically looked for his cellphone. he was fervently praying that it was all a joke. or that he was just dreaming.

meanwhile, the tv continued to flood his room with more voices coming from the actor's directors, co-stars, other celebrities, mourning the young man's passing. eulogies that were too early. surprisingly, there were no interviews yet with his family, or his friends outside of the industry. then he remembered that dennis hardly had any friends. only adoring fans who were blinded by his god-like looks.

surely, there had been a lot of false news about celebrities dying. how many times was it reported that a beloved comedian had died before he finally drew his last breath?

in what seemed like an eternity (time indeed slows down to a halt whenever we are waiting for a momentous event to happen), he finally found his mobile phone that was quietly hidden on top of a book at the shelf, unmindful of what was going on in his world.

as he was opening the messages, he was praying that they would prove the news wrong. but the messages from the actor's manager and his younger sister, connie, just confirmed the news: that indeed dennis passed away in a vehicular accident the previous night, while paul was struggling with drunkenness (he drank too many beers at the plane to forget about his fear of flying) at the airport queuing at the exit gate after taking his luggage, a small overnight bag, from the carousel.

(he slept right away after arriving at home. he was jet-lagged and drunk. he did not bother to call or text anyone that he had arrived safely in the loving arms of manille.)

defeated and unable to think clearly, he sat down on the floor. he wanted to cry, but the tears were still elusive. he was in a state of shock. he put the tv on mute. he could see images of the actor: meeting his adoring fans, fending off kisses, having his photos taken with them. then stars, directors, producers giving their reaction to his untimely death at such a young age: 28.

paul called the actor's manager, anthon, who was, surprisingly calm and composed. in his soft, high-pitched, feminine voice, which was comical coming from a tall, muscular man with huge belly, he narrated what happened.

anthon spoke slowly and very clearly, like a reporter delivering the day's news: dennis and his driver were traversing a road in batangas on the way to an out-of-town shooting at around one in the morning when a truck lost its brake and rammed into their car. they died instantly, while the truck driver, unhurt, fled the crime scene immediately. the police were still hunting him down.

was it a quick death?

apparently. he did not suffer if that's what you're asking.

was he intact? no missing limb or anything.

thankfully yes. he looked peaceful and normal. like he was just sleeping.

god! he wanted to ask: what were his last thoughts? was he awake the whole time while stuck in his car? or asleep? finally, why? why him?

there is another thing, the manager said, mommie elaine  is requesting you not to make a scene if you go to the wake and to the funeral. just act like a family friend or a fan.

he did not say anything. he hung up.

do not make a scene. elaine, dennis' mother, was still acting like a bitch even at a time like this. what does she mean by that - not make a scene? but at least he was grateful that the fierce elaine allowed  him to go to the wake. to the funeral. it gave him a little comfort. he knew how much she detested him.

elaine was against their relationship right from the start. not so much because she was very religious (she was at the church almost everyday praying for a miracle that would cure his famous son's homosexuality), but because it might hurt his popularity, turn his fans and the general public off and result in the loss of millions of pesos in talent fees.

dennis, sadly, was the family's sole breadwinner.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

he wanted to start from the beginning. not at the end.

this was how it began, mama elaine. this was how i met your beautiful but tormented son.

it was five in the afternoon. a cold one. it was still winter. the sky was a lonely grey, as if abandoned by everyone else.

but the people, restless as they were, were all out, wearing thick clothes and jackets, and scarves, and hats, and gloves. in black, grey or for the more adventurous ones, red and purple. even on such a dreary day, the streets were filled with tourists, office workers, bankers, housewives carrying babies, maids who were perennially talking on their mobile phones. strolling, shopping, having a beer, very, very late lunch or quite an early dinner.

or just wandering around hong kong's narrow, busy streets. trying to sweat it out.

paul could very well remember that day. it was forever carved in his memory.

a friend, a reporter who was covering the entertainment industry in manila and who was staying in his apartment for the duration of his trip in the former british colony, had asked him to accompany him to interview the most popular celebrity in the philippines -- dennis fuentes. because it was a saturday and he had nothing much to do apart from cleaning his apartment, he agreed.

everyone knew dennis -- impossibly handsome, deep dimples, sad eyes that hypnotised whoever looked at them even quickly and discreetly, a body like michelangelo. even him, who had lived away from manila for six years at that time, was familiar with him.

dennis could sell anything in the philippines: a dream, a trashy movie, vapid soap opera. even the lies to hide his much-whispered, speculated and talked about gender. almost everyone, even his avid fans, thought or believed that he was gay. but he never came out. he even had girlfriends and always, always talked about marrying his dream girl, if he found her, and having children. lots of them. someday.

but since there were no evidence to the contrary -- no pictures showing him kissing or having sex with another man, or a male lover who confessed that they were together -- then everyone thought these talks, speculations about his gender were all fabricated, part of the showbiz myth meant to pique the public's curiosity and keep them interested. after all, almost all actors had been rumored to be gays.

full of anticipation, paul followed his friend who was walking ahead of him as they entered the lobby of a five-star hotel in central where the interview would take place. his friend was a famous entertainment reporter in the philippines. they met when they were both new in the trade, when they were assigned to cover the national bureau of investigation beat.

after a few years, his friend decided to join another newspaper to cover actors and actresses and movies -- his passion -- while paul went on to become a financial journalist writing about stocks and bonds, the economy. they ventured into opposite directions, but remained in touch. best friends.

paul eventually moved to hong kong and joined an international news wire agency specialising on financial markets news.

they were dressed almost identical, like twins. they even joked about it on their way to the hotel. black outer jackets, blue sweaters, dark jeans, striped scarves. sneakers. the only difference was that he was wearing eyeglasses, while his friend opted for contact lenses, making him look glassy and unreal.

there you are, his friend said upon seeing dennis, who stood up from the comfortable sofa to greet him.

the lobby -- lush carpets, posh sofas, expensive chandeliers, clean as a morning dew mirrors, fresh flowers, sweet fruity, flowery scent that followed you everywhere, classical music - was almost empty, except for waiters dressed impeccably in black hanging around the actor and his entourage: his fifty-something manager anthon who had thick, black hair despite his age and the pressures of his job; a road manager; a publicity manager; and a few others.

his friend introduced paul to everyone in the party.

but his attention was focused on the actor. gorgeous was inadequate to describe him. his photos did not do him any justice. dennis was a mixture of youth and sophistication. he had on a midnight blue, expensive sweater (cashmere), black jeans, and black square-toed brown leather shoes. his hair was cut short, military style (for a role of a young military officer in a recurring soap opera), and his eyes, those all-consuming eyes, were luminous, as though all the lights in the room were dancing in them.

what surprised paul was that dennis was quite tall (nearly six feet) and a bit muscular. he always thought he was quite small (maybe five feet and five inches) and skinny. well, at least on photos he looked really small and skinny. maybe those were old photos. he was not really updated on the local entertainment front. he stopped reading about filipino celebrities after he moved to hong kong. nor had he watched filipino movies or tv shows.

apart from his looks and sad, soulful eyes, it was his voice that paul fell in love with right away. his voice was gentle, soft, educated unlike most brazen young men who were aspiring to be stars. he spoke in a polite and intelligent mix of university graduate english (full of please, excuse me and sorry) and a bit of filipino. he was lucid too considering that he only got three hours of sleep the previous night.

the interview, mostly about his latest projects both on television and on film, and his recent, most publicized break-up with another actress, lasted for more than an hour. not that paul minded. he was busy drinking the moment, memorizing every detail of that surreal afternoon. of taking photos, secretly, of dennis -- perhaps the most handsome creature that he had ever seen in his thirty-two years in the world, and half of that spent chasing and being chased by men. all kinds of good looking young men.

yet, here he was, at thirty-two. faced with the most gorgeous man that ever walked on earth. where had he been hiding all this time?

just like most of his friends, paul was not effeminate. he talked, acted and dressed just like any other ordinary heterosexual man. the only difference was, he had a strong passion for literature, films, art and fashion, things that most boys didn't care about. or pretended not to care. he hated sports, cars, guns and, unfortunately for most girls, didn't like women at all as, well, sexual partners.

but if you didn't know that paul was gay, then you might even be smitten by him. in his own way, paul, aloof, socially awkward, impeccably dressed always, was good looking. movie star handsome if you will. but his interest was on films, not on becoming a movie star. he even disliked movie stars, actually, with their big egos and even bigger talent fees.

after the interview, they stayed for a while as his friend chatted with anthony over coffee, while dennis talked with other hotel guests, mostly filipinos, and then gladly had a photo with them. paul remained quiet, even wandering around the lobby. at some point, he even took out a book from  his tote and tried to read. but it was so hard to concentrate and understand what he was reading. he was too distracted by the luminous presence of dennis, who seemed to have swallowed all the brightness in the room.

after nearly an hour more, they left the hotel and were dismayed to find out it was raining outside.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

paul first thought it was a joke.

a few weeks after that surreal interview at the hotel, he chatted with his friend the reporter over facebook. it was ten in the evening. he was in bed, as usual, naked. he was always naked in the  house. that's one of the reasons he preferred to live alone and not share a flat, unlike most of his friends in hong kong who wanted to save money because rent was atrociously steep.

dennis is asking about you.

really now? :)

yes. no chos.

why?

i don't know. you probably made an impression on him.

how so?

well for one, you did not bother to have a picture taken with him. or ask for his autograph. you seemed bored the whole time that i was interviewing him. you even took out a book and read. so he was intrigued. he was used to people staring at him all the time. adoring him. but you ignored him.

hahahahaha. echosera.

he even remembers the book that you were reading: kafka on the shore by haruki murakami. dennis says he is also a murakami fan.

double chos! stop pulling my fishnet-stockinged legs, dahlin.

seriously. have i told you that he likes older, intelligent men? i told him all about you -- a famous financial journalist from a well-respected international publication, writes about the global economy, asian markets, talks with policy makers, fund managers, bureaucrats all the time. analyses news for a living, chews bloomberg and bbc news on teevee for breakfast.

you're such an ass :) be serious. also, i may be a bit older than him, but i'm not intelligent. you know i'm as shallow as those teen-agers on gossip girl. so there.

i am serious. he wants to meet you.

is he really one of us? how come you never told me. or nobody ever wrote about it, including you?

i thought you knew. the whole world knows.

yes.....there were rumours that he was gay. but it was never confirmed. or written about. not even a hint from him. or from his celebrity friends. there were blind items, but they could be anybody really. showbiz is full of gay men, whether out in the open or frozen in the closet. i also observed him closely during your interview, no hint or whatever that he's gay. he must really be a darn good actor!! my gaydar for once did not work.

he's really like that. no hint  of gayness in him. he wasn't straight acting that day.  and he is a very big star. from a very influential network. nobody would dare write about anything that would ruin his career, or else goodbye to juicy scoops, expensive junkets and gifts, and other privileges that come with being close with movie stars and producers. we're not business journalists, for christ's sake. our ethics, or the lack of it, is different from your world.

blasphemy.

anyway, can i give him your mobile and email address?

hmmmmmm.....

stop it! admit it, you also like him. bitch!

:)

but it turned out it wasn't a joke.

weeks later, paul and dennis were in love to the dismay of mama elaine. but he didn't know her then. the snake wasn't in the picture early on in paradise until later, when she seduced eve, who was bored with the beauty of the forest and of adam's hard muscles, to take a bite of the forbidden fruit. eve did and paid dearly for that. she lost her soul.

#####################

dennis flew to hong kong a week after paul's conversation with his reporter friend on facebook. he later learned that this was so very dennis, making big decisions at the spur of the moment, without thinking it through. paul was just the opposite. the journalist was meticulous about everything, especially on his decisions. even the tiny ones. it would take him nearly a week to decide what clothes he would wear to an important event such as a wedding, or even just a date. others would label it as procrastination, he called it wisdom.

this time, dennis came alone, minus his army of "bidders" (the term paul used to describe people who would all do dennis' bidding), who were, more often than not, more snooty than the actor.

they met for dinner at an expensive french slash italian restaurant in soho. days before the dinner, paul went to the restaurant not only to make a reservation but to make sure that none of the staff, from the waiters, busboys and busgirls, receptionists, chefs, were filipinos or from the philippines. dennis said he didn't want to be bothered by photo-seeking fans. he said this casually, without malice. he was a really nice person. paul understood that this was his escape from the maddening crowd, so to speak.

paul planned his outfit anxiously, thoughtfully, even googling some looks over the internet, checking the latest catalogues from his favourite rl, burberry, paul smith and dries van noten. he was surprised by this behavior. he had not felt this way since high school, when he attended his first prom in his junior year. when it took him a month to decide on what to wear. it had to be simple yet elegant.

finally, he settled on a newly purchased pink shirt from rl, dark jeans from an anonymous designer (read: cheap), old sneakers, navy blue burberry blazer. then scarf, a light one from massimo dutti.

by then the extremely cold, icy weather had defrosted. there was a bit of a sunshine during the day, prompting some excited city dwellers to head to the nearby beach, a thirty minute distance by ferry.

there was an invisible excitement in the air, as everyone removed their gloomy moods to match the promising shiny weather ahead. it was nearly spring and the whole city had shed and stored their bulky winter outfits somewhere else, or brought them to the cleaners. like what he did the previous week. but it was still a bit chilly. summer, his favourite season, was still a few months away.

as though they agreed on what to wear, dennis was also wearing a pink shirt underneath a blue sweater, dark jeans and white canvass shoes. his hair had grown a bit. he looked every inch a movie star even in a simple outfit that the other guests and the staff at the restaurant who had no idea that he was a huge movie star in the philippines were all taken by his beauty.

paul noticed the waitresses and a lone waiter hovering over at dennis's side of the table, taking time to take his order while staring at his face. then once the food was served, they were all at his beck and call, pouring him water, wine, juice. asking him repeatedly if there was anything more that he needed. was he ok? comfortable? more butter? was the wine ok?

dennis just smiled at all of this. used to all the fuss and attention. paul was uneasy. awkward even.

it comes with the territory, dennis said, blushing. paul couldn't help but smile too. surprisingly, the actor's taste in food was rather simple. pedestrian even. seafood spaghetti. grilled chicken. red wine. he ate his baguette without cheese or without dipping the bread on olive oil mixed with balsamic vinegar and parmesan cheese. he also did not want any soup or salad to start the meal, or dessert afterwards. he didn't eat pizza either. not because he was trying to keep his thirty-inch waistline.

in contrast, paul ordered the most complicated items on the menu, the ones he could hardly read or pronounce just to impress dennis. but he ended up sharing dennis' food later on because what he ordered were simply not to his liking. even the soup, oily and coloured red with strange vegetables and herbs floating around it. they were too strange to his tongue accustomed to eating mostly filipino, chinese, thai, japanese, vietnamese cuisines.

while he was having dessert, new york cheese cake, dry, very dry, and coffee, bitter, very bitter, dennis, who was having camomile tea, started the conversation. rather, a short question-and-answer forum, as though paul was the actor and dennis was the reporter.

how long you've been staying here?

five. no six years.

wow! so you know hong kong by hand. (paul nodded his head. amazed by the child like questions) do you go home often?

no. the last time i went home was two years ago to attend my father's funeral.

oh. sorry to hear that.

it's alright. we were not that close.

dennis looked a bit sad after hearing this. then asked again: so where do you go for vacations?

anywhere. as long as there is a beach, cheap beer and pretty young boys in bikinis.

hahahahaha.

you don't like the mountains?

not much. i'm a beach person. i love the taste of salt in the wind. the shy coarse sand on my feet. but i used to go to sagada every christmas and new year when i was still living in manila. just to be alone. read. think. breathe. sleep. be closer to god or whoever it is that rules the universe and all creatures.

really? how mystical.

true.

do you like it here?

before he could answer this one, the waiter came to pour more wine on their glasses. the waiter asked paul if he wanted more coffee. he refused and asked him to take away his cup, still half-full, and saucer. dennis' too.

(what's this a job interview? paul thought, as  he drank his wine before giving out his answer. but he had to admit  that he was enjoying this moment. how many times will a popular actor ever be interested on a nameless, not so gorgeous person like himself? zero. not even in his wildest dream. it only happened in movies like in notting hill. he was flattered, to be honest about it, by dennis' attention and interest on him. he had an erection too since he shook dennis' hand and smelled his expensive perfume when he arrived earlier that did not go away.)

hmmmmm....i don't know. after six years here, i feel suffocated. hong kong is such a small place. every corner is now a familiar face. i'm planning to move out. maybe next year?

where to this time?

hmmmmmmmmmm..

would you consider going back to manila?

doing what?

i don't know. work for me?

(paul was surprised. blushed a bit. where is this headed? but he managed to say:)

you're very direct. aren't you.

hahahaha (a bit uncomfortable this time.)

honestly, i like you a lot. i've never met anyone quite like you. (dennis said this while looking into paul's eyes. paul met his gaze. the wine, the music, were working their magic on both of them.)

but he was in a bratty mood. felt like trumping the actor's expectations.

i bet you say that every time. to every unsuspecting man you meet and fancy for the night. came paul's reply, still staring deeply into dennis' eyes.

silence. dennis seemed hurt by paul's reply. his eyes wandered around the room. it was a nice restaurant. there was a man playing a jazzy tune on an old piano -- a chinese middle-aged guy in a charcoal grey suit. there were a dozen or so diners, mostly tourists judging from the cameras that they were carrying, the maps, and the fact that they asked the waiters for choices on food and drinks, as well as to take their photos.

there were fresh roses and real candles on every table. a chandelier that looked like a giant jellyfish at the middle of the room. a sofa at a corner where guests could sit while waiting for a table. a bar that could sit six, maybe eight people. the staff were all polite and dressed in well-pressed white shirts, dark pants, black leather shoes, and a shockingly golden yellow apron.

as if recovering from the shock, dennis finally spoke:  it's a lovely place. thank you for bringing me here.

to be honest, it's my first time here also. i always pass by here on my way home. but i never found the courage to enter much less to eat here. it's expensive. my poor reporter's salary can't afford it.

hahahaha (more relaxed this time.) then more questions.

so you live around here?

yes, upstairs. on castle road. a tiny one-bedroom flat that could barely fit a queen-sized bed and a toilet and a bath that could accommodate only one person, a very skinny person i may add, at a time. not even two cats could fit in there.

hahahaha.

you're funny, paul. it was the first time in the evening that dennis mentioned his name. paul liked the way he pronounced it (poouhl).

i'm not trying to be funny, mr. movie star. it's true. space is what this city lacks. they have a very efficient and cheap public transport system. one of the best, if not the best, in the world. honest and working bureaucracy. trustworthy cops. low tax rates. now that's very important to blue-collar workers like me. nice beaches, though not as good as boracay, or even puerto gallera. but good enough to hang out on weekends drinking beer and reading a book.

dennis offered a toast: to hong kong.

after they drank their wines, there was silence. they listened to the music. to the conversations from other tables. the collective love song from the room.

then dennis blurted out, breaking the pause: so what about it?

huh?

i mean, my earlier offer for you to come home and work for me.

paul didn't know what to say. he stared at his face. to see if dennis was joking. or being ironic. but there was nothing there but an earnest desire to be with him. (he hoped he was reading him correctly. recently, his readings on men had been failing him.)

work for you as what? this time he was getting curious. was in a flirty mood. he extended his hand and touched his. they held hands on top of the table. unmindful of everyone. his erection started to hurt.

i don't know. as my publicity or pr manager?

are you always like this?

like what?

offering jobs to strangers?

this time, their feet were rubbing each other under the table.

no. only with the ones i fancy. so will you be my pr manager?

no.

or i could ask my network to hire you as their pr manager. or some other high-flying job at the teevee station deserving of your talents.

no.

god what will it take to take you home. make you mine.

tonight?

forever.

the night was drunk. the chandelier was tipsy, its long, jelly fish tail dancing to the piano music. the chinese man was standing up as he slammed the keys to give everyone a wilder, more wicked sound this time. the diners clapped their hands.

there was even a bit of moon, a shy one, peeping through the glass floor-to-ceiling french windows.

a lovely evening to die and fall in love. elaine didn't know any of this either.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

when paul woke up the next day, he was in dennis's hotel room. they were both naked, of course. he rose from bed and took a warm shower. when he went back into the room, wearing the hotel's luxurious bath robe, dennis was still asleep. tired. exhausted. but peaceful.

he sat at the desk a few feet from the king-sized bed, where dennis was asleep at the middle, surrounded by pillows, and dialed for room service. he was famished.

while waiting for the food, he vividly remembered the previous night's encounter. until now, several hours after they had sex, he still could not believe that it was all true. if he did not wake up beside dennis, his right hand on his smooth, flat belly, he would think this was all a dream. or one of  his hallucinogenic trips.

first the kisses. dennis' kisses were gentle but eager, as if he was just learning how to use his lips, mouth and tongue. but his touches were impatient and urgent. they burned and melted paul. paul's were just the opposite. he wanted to swallow dennis. devour his tall, lean body. the wholeness of him. alive, pulsating and strong. hard and angry. smooth and hairy. paul wanted his soul.

in an hour or so, it was all over. their hunger satisfied, they fell asleep. dreamless. no post coital talk, or promises, or cigarettes. they were both non-smokers by the way.

ah they were so untypical.

when dennis opened his eyes and saw paul, he leaped and grabbed him back to bed, removed the bathrobe and started kissing him all over. lapping his newly-washed manhood, now raving mad, marveling at his newly-shaved pubic hair.

(indeed, sex improved greatly. as they became more familiar with each other. dennis was no longer shy, an eager student at first, then a master who wanted to experiment with different positions and accessories afterwards.)

%%%%%%%%%%%%%

there used to be a lot sadness in paul's life. a lot of regrets. he had learned to live with that. his solitude. then his sadness. his regrets. one of them was his stubbornness not to follow a lover, whom he loved so deeply, when the spanish guy, who looked, moved, smiled and spoke like daniel day-lewis, taut and compact, was transferred to paris. he wanted to belie the fact that long-distance relationships won't work. in the end, he was proven wrong and mourned for his loss.

there were a lot of introspection and questions too, especially when he was drunk and alone on a rainy night. will he ever find the one? it would be alright if he won't be his soul mate. he was willing to downgrade his expectations, his idea of a dream boy. no more silly high school romanticism of finding romeo -- tall, tan, curly hair, lovely mouth, perfect aquiline nose. like spanish guy.

but since meeting dennis, his moments were filled only with happiness. it was as though all the gloom and the cold winters in the world had evaporated, and replaced by an endless spring and summer.

paul had never been happier. dennis just made him laugh. made his heartbeat race, his pulse quicken, his blood rush. his scent was addictive, his touches were fire that burned his soul. there was something about his little-boy-young-man-charm that made him quiver with anticipation for their monthly trysts.

dennis would fly to hong kong to be with him. or they would agree to meet elsewhere, say bangkok or bali or singapore just to be together.

dennis, of course, was not his first boyfriend. he had several destructive relationships before. one of them, a poet wannabe, who even tried to hook him up on drugs. he was simply glad that he was able to get out of that relationship alive and clean. except for inhaling several sticks of marijuana when they were making love, which helped prolong their erections, he did not take any other drugs that he offered him. even with the promise of an even wilder sex.

he had tried drugs, of course, when he was younger. more curious. self-destructive. but he never let them hook him. there was a difference between an occasional hit than be hooked for a lifetime.

when they could no longer bear to be away from each other for much longer, when the once-a-month meeting was no longer enough, paul did the impossible, decided on a whim to resign from his job and leave everything behind: the four seasons in the former british colony (now he wanted nothing but an endless summer of clear blue skies and hot weather), the efficient public transport system, the very fast internet, the first class airport, the low tax rates, his friends who came from all over the globe and who seemed like models for a united nations ad. suddenly, all of those things and his loving friends were no longer enough to fill the void, the huge hole, the unbearable sadness that he felt every time he was away from dennis.

so he packed his things, or at least those that he cared about (books, lots of books, cds, dvds), resigned from a very promising job, and left hong kong to the surprise of his friends who still had no idea what he got himself into. he could never tell anyone, even his family, that he was in a relationship with dennis for fear that it might leak and ruin everything.

back in his country of birth, he found a small flat somewhere in the heart of manila. in a place surrounded by shanties, where famished zombies roamed far and free. they never sleep. they never eat. they never drink.  nor talk. just stare. as though they were people from other planets.

while manila used to depress him before, this time he was in a dream. he didn't mind the torturous traffic, the filthy and scary flood that paralised metro manila during the rainy season, the  slower than a turtle internet, high tax rates, dangerous streets, widespread corruption both in the government and in the private sector, the crowded trains and buses (he never owned a car and was used to commuting), the smelly taxi cab driver who wanted nothing but to get more money from his passenger by telling sad, unbelievable stories.

what was important was dennis. and the actor did not disappoint. almost every night, even when he was busy juggling commercial shoots and tapings for his long-running soap opera, dennis would drop by his apartment and sleep with paul. they were thirsty, always hungry for each others' bodies. like children who just discovered the joys of sucking dirty ice cream. they were insatiable.

(they decided right from the start that they would live separately. but they could sleep in each others' flats two or three nights straight. but not more. staying in each others' apartments longer than that could already invite suspicions from security guards, receptionists and even other tenants of their buildings. dennis too would cover his face with shades and a huge hat, and made sure paul was in the lobby to meet him before alighting his car. paul had become friendly with the guards and receptionist, gifting them with cigarettes and chocolates so they won't have to be strict when dennis visited him. no need to register. sign a logbook. leave an id.)

paul got a job. he never accepted any money from dennis. it was a very boring job but enough to pay the bills. it was at an advertising and pr company and he was hired to write press releases, edit marketing campaigns, profile businessmen, ceos, celebrities and other clients of the firm. but he never wrote about nor made a pitch for politicians. that was his only condition. he hated them -- senators, congressmen, governors, mayors, even the lowly barangay chieftains.

they're worse than vampires. at least vampires won't suck you dry. would stop once they're sated, leaving their victims with more blood to feed an army.

but politicians? their avarice and greed know no bound.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

he knew it would not be easy. but it was much harder than he thought it would be.

the biggest problem really was that they could not be seen together in public. alone. without an army og guards and managers. it was something he missed in hong kong, or in any other cities where they used to meet and roam around. the freedom to be together, to do whatever they wanted. somebody had to be with them all the time. he can't even watch dennis shoot a scene or a commercial alone. can't attend his movie premiers without his managers or a family member.

worse, paul met his mother, a sixty-year-old cretin with porcelain skin and black as night hair (she used to be a beauty queen, model and did bit roles in movies before she got married) who did not bother to hide her disdain for him. she always made him feel so uncomfortable that paul thought he would rather be with a sadistic, tyrant dictator of a banana republic than endure her. her stares were poisonous. her words were swords that sliced through the flesh slowly, painfully. nobody could stand her. not even her children, especially connie.

connie, luckily, dennis' younger sister (they were only two children) was nice. polite. a journalism student. so there was an immediate connection between them.

she asked a lot of questions just like dennis. always prodded paul to talk about his reporter's exploits. how was it working for a huge international news agency and be surrounded by all these ambitious, hungry reporters and editors from all over the world. how was it meeting president bill clinton, or al gore, or hillary. or any other international figure.

he told her everything that she wanted to know. lent or gave her books, clippings.

in the end, they became best friends.

i wish you would end up with dennis. i wish you would get married and have children. she told paul one time while they were having coffee, waiting for her famous brother.

but we could never get married and have children. you're asking not only for the moon, but for the entire solar system my dear.

why ever not? you can go to switzerland to get married. you can hire a woman to carry your children. ricky martin did it with his lover. imagine what your children would be like -- smart, intelligent, passionate, romantic and oh so good looking.

stop dreaming. i'm not ricky martin either. not even dennis.

this made connie laugh. a very rare one. the two siblings were given to melancholy, a result of an unhappy childhood that swallowed them up until they were grown up.

but seriously, i really like you.

i like you too. he said, brushing her short hair. she loved it when he did this.

i'm glad dennis found you. that you are now part of our family.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

i was conceived in hate.

those were connie's first words to him after dennis introduced them.

unlike her brother, she was small (five feet or less?), fat (thirty-six inch waistline), ordinary looking. crossed eyed. thick glasses. short hair like a man. big boobs and an even bigger tummy. dry hair. pimply face. no make-up. not even lipstick. awkward walk, lousy clothes (a shirt a size bigger and loose shorts or skirts). sad. but polite. quiet too. she only talked to people she liked, she told him.

dennis sucked all the beauty in the family, she added.

silence. he didn't know what to say. dennis just looked at him. he tried to search for an answer from his face, but dennis', just when he needed his support, was a blank canvass.

my parents were about to separate when elaine accidentally had me. elaine wanted to abort me, but dennis stopped her. so she had me against her will. you see, dennis is everyone's apple of the eye. elaine listens to him more than she does to anyone else including our father. father eventually left her for another woman. i couldn't really blame him.

i grew up insecure. jealous of all the attention that elaine and everybody were showering dennis. but dennis loves me. he protects me. gives me all the love i need. i grew fat from eating a lot because food was the only thing that gave me love. comforted me. showered me with attention apart from dennis.

then she was teary eyed. this made both of the men uncomfortable.

stop it, his older brother interrupted. you know that mama loves you. we all love you.

oh please. i am not five years old anymore. we all know that if i die tonight, she will probably celebrate. you see, i remind elaine of my father. of the horrible things that papa did to her. i am like him. ugly, fat and bookish.

before she could say more, paul hugged her. kissed her on both cheeks. he had never felt so protective of anyone in his life. she was a tiny cat, cowering in fear, that needed nurturing.

you're beautiful connie. you are.

she cried on his shoulders. dennis just looked at them. he had probably witnessed this scene, especially from his little sister, so many times before.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

they were inseparable. the three of them. they would eat out with dennis's army of managers. go on vacations -- beaches, mountains. the more they became closer, the more their mother hated paul.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

but elaine was a different animal. it would be easier to charm a snake, the most venomous one, than the mother whose dreams of attaining fame, fortune, and more money were now being realised by her eldest son.

when are you going to stop?

what do you mean?

paul and elaine were alone in her house that dennis had built for her. a three-story affair with an english garden, a swimming pool and a garage that housed four expensive cars. they were in the living room.

she invited him for dinner. so they could talk, she said. paul granted her request, hoping that she would eventually relent and leave the two men alone. dennis said it was a good thing, a reconciliatory move. he agreed to meet her, at her house, her territory, even though connie had warned him about it.

elaine (connie never called her mother mama) is cunning, connie said. she will never let dennis go because he is her only source of income and happiness.

it was a lovely room. straight out of a glossy interior design and architecture magazine. two big, comfortable sofas in beige facing each other. two other lounge chairs in mint green. dark wood floor. expensive paintings by filipino masters. flowers (calla lilies). a rug. a center table filled with coffee table books about art and films.  thick curtains, white with yellow accents.

there were no cheap perfumed candles burning because she was allergic to scents.

she was dressed too, elegantly, in vermilion: a tight-fitting blouson and pencil-cut skirt. her hair was swept up, highlighting her beautiful features and lovely, smooth skin. she looked a decade or two younger than her sixty-something years. no jewellery except for a watch.

they were both seated on the sofa, facing each other. like best friends, but more formal. she offered him tea, she had wine. then she went straight to the heart of the meeting.

dennis is just starting to enjoy success. he could achieve more. give more. if you don't stop, you will ruin everything. he has a gift as an actor and a performer. surely you don't want to see it go to waste because of a silly, foolish romance.

i don't see why our being together is getting on the way of his career. we are very careful. we are never seen together anywhere, alone. we don't hold hands or kiss in public.

bullshit!

he blushed. not so much for the use of the word but for her angry, loud voice. full of contempt. he had never seen anyone so angry at him. or so hateful of him. paul was raised obediently, to please everyone like a military general's child. his father was grooming him to follow his footsteps and go to a military school in the united states. paul did not like the feeling of having someone angry at him. much more, if that someone hated him.

what will it take for you to leave him and us alone? even my daughter is so taken by you.

you are not seriously trying to buy me. like the rich villains in telenovelas, are you?

why not? everyone has a price. what is yours?

you're wrong. i never cared for money.

oh?

i hate to say this, elaine. but my family is way richer than you are. i can buy you, your friends and this whole village.

then he stood up and left the stunned woman, who was about to drink her white wine. instead, she spilled the contents on the pretty egyptian rug on the floor. aghast.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

dennis couldn't stop laughing when he recounted his meeting with his mother.

i love what you told her: i can buy you, your friends and this whole village. how original. hahahaha

actually, it was not. some b-movie star said it to another starlet in a bar.

really?

you honestly haven't heard of that incident? that news was all over. even my friends in hong kong have heard about it.

paul was seated in a wooden chair, facing the bed. dennis kept quiet. he was curled up in bed, like a little boy. naked. a pillow was in between his legs. paul was wearing a robe, also naked underneath.

i'm sorry i forced you to have that meeting with mother.

that's alright. at least now we know where she stands.

you have to understand where she's coming from. it had always been just the two of us. before connie came along. do you know why they separated? why mother hated my father so much.

paul didn't say a word. he turned his head at the window, while dennis remained in bed. then he stood up and drew the curtains open. it was bright outside. he could very well see the trees lined up on the park below. there was a full moon.

he wanted to open the windows, to feel the evening breeze. but dennis preferred to have the windows shut all the time. he didn't want the noise from the busy street below, the comings and goings of cars. the rushing of people. the building where dennis was staying was beside a major highway and in between two giant shopping malls, the two biggest in the country.

dennis continued his story. paul just stared outside. unsure of where the conversation was taking them. in all the months that they had been together, dennis never really opened up. never talked about his life, his childhood, his parents, their separation. he never asked him, though he was very eager to know. he respected his silence. it was better that way because he did not want to tread on dangerous grounds.

one night, mother found father in my room. in my bed. touching me. i was only seven or eight years old then. there was a big fight. mother threatened to kill him. she asked him to leave the house. father was furious. beat her up. i froze in fear. i could not move. i was seated in the corner of the room, slumped on the floor, naked. then it happened. father raped mother in front of me. that's how connie was conceived.

these last words stunned paul. he rushed towards him. hugged him. kissed him. unsure of what to do. of what to say. this was all too sudden. too big a surprise to bear.

then came the tears. the sobs. dennis was crying. paul felt like crying too.

it's alright. it's over. that was all he could say.

i hate myself. i feel responsible for everything. 

paul just kept on holding him. he was still quiet, still didn't know what to say.

you know what's the scary part? i enjoyed it. i looked forward to father's nocturnal visits in my bed. i liked it when he touched me, kissed me. played with my penis. i liked it when he let me touched him. in fact, i hated it when mother sent him away.

shhhhhhhhh....you didn't know anything. you were a child. it wasn't your fault. your father was the evil one. he should go to hell for doing that to you, to your mother, and to connie.

paul suspected all along that there was some darkness that dennis was hiding from him. he knew it the moment he saw those sad eyes at the hotel lobby, his longing glances, when his friend interviewed him.

but he never thought that it would be as dark as this. tragedy was an understatement. he could never imagine what would happen to him if he was in dennis' shoes. to be a victim of incest at such a young age, but still long for your father despite what he did to him. then hating your mother for trying to protect you from your father. all these years.

paul learned later on that dennis' father died years ago from lung cancer. his mother never forgave him and forbade dennis and connie from seeing him, even from attending his wake and funeral. he's not your father, was all elaine said.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

he watched dennis sleep. calm this time. he had closed the curtains. the room was dark except for a faint light coming from a lampshade beside the bed.

the room was spartan. there was a king-sized bed, two wooden chairs at a corner of the room, a center table with magazines and books, two small tables beside the bed with identical lamps. nothing more.

just like many of those nights when he could not sleep, paul reflected on their life together. how long can this go on? their relationship. his charade. how long until his fans find out?

the truth was,  he was getting restless. he didn't really like his job at the pr and advertising agency. after the early months of ecstasy, boredom. he was now bored with manila. the pollution, traffic, worsening corruption in the government, cheap tv shows, were getting into his nerves. these were the things that pushed him to leave and live in hong kong years ago.

also, he could not help but wonder how long can dennis keep his double life hidden from everyone else. he was not just talking about his gender, but also about his relationship with him. how long could he keep this relationship on the face of strong opposition from his mother, his managers, his producers, and everyone else?

paul felt like the villain in dennis' fairy tale life. like what elaine said, he was spoiling everything for them. he could sometimes feel that even connie resented his presence in their once peaceful life. or maybe he was just imagining it. connie liked him, but sometimes he could not help but ask if she ever got jealous over his closeness with her brother. after all, dennis was all she's got.

sometimes, he thought of leaving them for good. cut them off from his life. fly to london or new york. he had friends in london or new york who had been asking him to try working there. but he could never leave dennis. he loved him. he didn't want to hurt him. he was the father that dennis had longed for all his life, though paul was just a few years older than dennis.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

after his revelations, paul felt even more paternal (if there was such a thing between lovers) towards dennis. he was bent on keeping his secrets at all costs. he felt like the tree to whom tony leung whispered his secrets in wong kar wai's sentimental and poignant in the mood for love. 

the film was one of their favourite movies. paul was surprised that dennis had already seen it when he once mentioned it to him. wong kar wai, it turned out, was one of dennis' favourite directors alongside martin scorsese, richard linklater, francis ford coppola and his daughter sofia. they were his favourites too. so apart from books, they had the same tastes in movies, and even music -- beatles, coldplay, ella fitzgerald, billie holiday, dido, to name just a few.

dennis once told him that he wanted to write and direct his own movies. like linkater and the coppolas.

these surprises, these bits and pieces about his personality that were slowly unveiled like secrets in a spy novel, was what kept paul more and more in love with dennis. he was like a drug, so addictive.

there were those moments too, when he waited for dennis to wake up in the morning. dennis was a late riser. paul loved that look on dennis' face once he opened his eyes and found him at his side, staring at him. paul loved his early morning breath, the way he would grab him and kiss him. ride him like a horse before he would rise from bed, knees still trembling, to take a shower and have a late breakfast.

%%%%%%%%%%%%

one thing that stood out from the short time that they had been together was this: the dennis that the public knew was different from the private dennis.

of course all celebrities must have this double persona, but in dennis' case, it was really obvious because paul had met them both. it was scary and sometimes confusing too. it was like there were two people that paul had to deal with at different times. or sometimes at the same time. sometimes he was lost on who he was with. psychology must have a different term for this other than multiple personalities.

aside from hiding his true gender, paul realised that dennis had intentionally dumb down his image as an actor. once, he caught one of his interviews on television when the "talk show" host, a supposedly know-it-all bald man in his sixtys with a tacky taste in fashion -- one of the many who believed that once the outfit was expensive and branded, then it must look good on them. that anything current is fashionable -- asked him what's one thing about dennis that the public does not know about.

wala (nothing), came his quick reply, in filipino. dennis hardly used english in public, especially when dealing with his fans. i am the same person in and out of showbiz.

a quick follow-up before we go on a commercial break, what's your ideal girl?

(the camera zoomed into his face. now paul's huge tv screen was filled with dennis' enigmatic face. a face that's so different from the one he used to kiss and make love with.)

simple, beautiful, religious.

then the commercials that starred mostly dennis followed. he noticed that the commercial breaks in most philippine shows on tv were much longer than the actual show. paul sighed and turned off the tv.

for some strange reason, he felt hurt by dennis' answers. he felt betrayed. when he asked dennis about this, the actor simply dismissed him. he even thought that paul was being ridiculous for asking about it.

it's a valid question, you know.

ok. that's because that's what 99.99 percent of the fans want their idols to be. to be stupid, to be non conversant in english. so they can relate to them. remember de jesus? he was famous for his stupidity and his carabao english. but in reality, he is smart and very fluent in english just like a native. but he has to maintain that image for his fans.

and look where it brought him?

to the senate, dennis muttered then laughed. see the power of the masa (common folks) that you and your class look upon with disdain?

then to jail if the accusations of corruption against him are true. but seriously, why? and for the record, i am from the working class.

that's what you say, but we both know you're not.

you are not answering my question. why are you dumbing down your image?

isn't it obvious yet? dennis fuentes is different from the real me. it's a manufactured image. it's not even my real name. it's a product that's suited for the market. like breakfast cereal. a product of intense market research and surveys and other marketing strategies. if i start acting and talking like the real me, then i might alienate the fans and i will lose their following. do you follow?

or you might gain more fans if you start behaving like yourself?

that's a gamble that i, my managers, the producers are not willing to take.

don't you find it hard to be pretending all the time even when you are not in front of the camera? aren't you confused of who you really are? don't you want to be free? don't you want to be just who you are?

it was a pity, paul thought. because the real dennis was not only smart, he was well-read as well. he was familiar, for example, about the beat generation and had read allen ginsberg, jack kerouac. it was something remarkable because some of his financial journalist friends who considered themselves "intellectuals" just because they could understand and then write about complex economic subjects and terms and market jargons had no idea who ginsberg was or his brand of literature. or the beat writers.

dennis was a wide reader. he would sometimes read two to three books at the same time. his flat was full of books. he loved philosophy, history, economics, arts. especially arts.

just when dennis thought the conversation was over, paul asked again.

so it's all about the money then, huh?

no! came the quick reply.

(paul could see that dennis was annoyed. dennis was already pacing the room back and forth like an old man searching for his words. but paul could not stop. that's the journalist in him talking. once he gets riled up over something, he couldn't stop until the gets the answer that he is looking for.)

dennis continued: yes, at first it was all about the money. but now, i have enough money just so you know. i can stop working right now and i can live comfortably for the rest of my life. i am very wise with money. mother has also invested most of it in real estate and several businesses. she even bought a farm. it's not about money anymore, paul.

then what is it?

(paul wished dennis would sit down. that they would both calm down. dennis looked away from him. he was angry and at the same time surprised about paul's relentless attacks against him. he was wondering why, because paul had never acted like this before.)

i love being an actor. i love performing. making people happy. i love all the attention. i love being on the spotlight. i'd rather die than wake up one day and see that it's all gone.

surprised by what he just heard, paul wanted to ask, what about me? aren't you happy being with me? am i not enough? what about us? but he didn't. he was afraid that dennis might say something else, not the answers that he was looking for. instead he asked:

don't you feel like a fraud? because i do. all my life, dennis, i struggled to come out, to come to grips about who and what i am. for fourteen years, i had a hard time accepting myself because i was scared of my father, who might disown me or throw me out of the house once he found out that his only son is gay. but i got over it. fought many battles just so i could be myself. and for what? so i could hide again for you?

what are you trying to say, paul? this isn't really about me dumbing down my image, is it?

paul was quiet. he wished he had a cigarette. he wished he did not start this confrontation. now he had to say what he had always been wanting to say.

say it!! dennis shouted angrily. say it!

he shouted back.

i can' take it anymore. i want to be proud of who i am. of who i am with. i want to shout to the whole world that i love you and you love me too. i want us to be proud of what we are and what we are having. because what we have right now is beautiful, magical and true. why can't we share it, our happiness, with everyone? with my family? with my close friends? with your fans?

then for dramatic effect, paul added in a very soft voice: i am tired of hiding like a fugitive! i want to be free.

there was a darkness in dennis' face. a gloom and hate that paul had not seen before. for the first time in his life, paul was scared.

@@@@@@@@@@@

after their argument, paul often thought: how could dennis be so visible -- almost omnipresent --  and still be invisible, unseen, almost like a ghost. everyone knew him, had an opinion about him and his life, had seen him naked (well almost in one of his more daring movies),  had witnessed him cry, laugh, angry, calm, the gamut of emotions that he showed on the screen as he portrayed convincingly every role that was thrown to him like a gift. but they were not real. the person everybody knew was not him. it was a shell. a hollow one without a soul.

come to think of it, even dennis did not know who the real dennis was. nor paul for that matter.

in reel and real life, dennis was deliquescent.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

days before paul left for london to attend the wedding of a friend, they had a quarrel. dennis didn't want him to go. he didn't want to be left alone. so paul asked him to come with him. but dennis couldn't because of his very busy schedule, juggling the shooting of two movies and the taping of a long-running soap. plus other commitments like tv appearances and press conferences.

in the end he left. london was a nice distraction. true, it rained the entire time he was there (five days), but he enjoyed being in the company of his long-time friend and her soon-to-be-husband, an irish man in his fiftys. he loved strolling down london's rainy streets that reminded him so much of hong kong. he also watched  a few plays with his soon to be married friend.

at the wedding, paul cried. he didn't know why. maybe it was the fact that while his friend -- whom he had known all his life (they went to the same high school and university, even took up the same journalism course, though on their second year, he shifted to business management) -- was now embarking on a new life, ready to be a mother and a wife, he was still in a prolonged adolescence.

he hated the fact that he was still caught up in an uncertain relationship with a man four years his junior. a man whom he could not even introduce to his family and friends as his boyfriend lest it endangered his burgeoning showbiz career. he hated the realization that his life was in a rut, that he was stuck in a job and in a city that he didn't like, and that he could not make up his mind whether he wanted to leave or stay with dennis. the last one was the biggest tragedy.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

he was still depressed at the plane. apart from the fear of flying, he drank to alleviate the heavy feeling that won't leave him since the day of the wedding.

why was it that everyone was moving on with their lives, marching on to another adventure, while he was stuck in a rut, even moving backwards sometimes?

the look on dennis face as he left for the airport was devastating. by this time he had stopped crying like a petulant child who was given his favourite chocolate, but the sadness in his eyes was unbearable.

why are you so sad? i'll be back in a few days. before you even miss me, i'll be here already. showering you with love and kisses. i'll even buy you shirts and bags with the queen's face printed on them.

he didn't say a word. just stood at the doorway of his flat as paul waited for the elevator, bag on his shoulder.

i'll be back. promise. good as new. he shouted as the elevator doors were closing.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

when he came back from that trip, he was dead. was his deep sorrow before he left a premonition? he could not help but wonder. he regretted the fact that dennis was probably sad, even mad at him, during his final days on earth.

he went to the first night of the wake, when it was quiet and only family members were invited. connie, tired from crying, no voice, simply hugged him when she saw him. she was a wearing black shirt over jeans. elaine was wearing a white dress, seated quietly at a chair in front of the coffin. there were some familiar faces that he saw and met in some family occasions that he was invited. anthony was also there, talking to an old woman, dennis' aunt. he nodded his head upon seeing him.

the whole place was filled with flowers. some were lined up around the coffin like angels watching over the dead, others were on the side near the walls.  all big and huge and tall, as though they were competing for everyone's attention.

he forgot to bring flowers.

connie was still hugging him tightly, her hands wrapped around his waist, her head on his shoulder, as he viewed the coffin. only dennis' face, covered in glass, was visible in the wooden coffin painted a glowing white. white seemed to be the theme of the funeral. he didn't know whose idea it was. anthony? elaine? the producers? surely not connie, she hated white. white, after all, represents serenity. peace. calm. was dennis, a troubled and tortured soul all his life, now at peace?

from his face inside the coffin, dennis looked certainly at peace. paul hated to say this cliche, but dennis looked as though he was just sleeping. even smiling. dreaming a happy dream. he wanted to open the coffin and touch his face, kiss him. for the last time.

i should have stayed, he told him. i should have not left your side. i am sorry.

&&&&&&&&

he wanted to greet elaine. to kiss her on the cheek, pay his respects. but she seemed stoic. catatonic even. a statue made of wax with eyes staring at the emptiness ahead. oblivious to her environment, to the whispers around her, to the scent of flowers and candles that overwhelmed the room and used to annoy her because they trigger her allergies.

connie said her mother was incoherent, hysterical. so the doctors gave her pills to calm her down. she could not speak properly. even if you slap her on the face, she won't react nor remember it. she's in cloud nine, connie added, smiling despite herself.

i wanted to slap her, connie whispered. just to release some of the anger here, she pointed to her heart. paul smiled weakly. he remembered connie once telling him that her heart died a long time ago. it seemed that now it was resurrected just when her brother died.

they sat at the far-end of the room, away from the coffin. connie recalled the shock after she received a call from her mother (she was at school, inside the classroom) that dennis died.

i was hysterical, i shouted no! no! no!, then i fainted. my classmates thought the weird, anti-social me finally lost her marbles. it was hilarious the way they fled away from me. only our professor rushed to my side after i fainted. he carried me to the clinic. it was a marvel how my professor, a very skinny old man, was able to carry me, all of two hundred pounds.

adrenaline rush, paul said.

what a rush, connie said. i wish there's an emergency all the time so people would be able to step out of their comfort zones or wake up their dreamland and be supermen in a second. that might help solve the rising criminality in the country. 

or prevent car accidents.

they suppressed their laughter.

so how are you? paul finally asked when they ran out of things to say.

i am fine. still in denial. i don't know what will happen to us, mama and me, after he was buried.

(even in his sadness, paul couldn't help but notice that for the first time since they met, connie called elaine mama. he was glad to hear her say that. after all, elaine, despite her coldness, loved her children.)

you'll be fine. we'll be fine. we're survivors. then paul held her hands. she clasped his. soul sisters.

please don't leave us, connie pleaded.

i won't. i'll always be here.

but his last words were uncertain. unreal even to himself. he knew before he even learned of dennis' death that it was over. he finally admitted that it was a mistake biting the forbidden fruit.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

post script:

after thinking it over, about the events that took place before he left for london, paul was now certain, especially after he learned from connie that it was dennis who was driving the car (it was never reported) when the tragedy happened, that it was not an accident. that dennis wanted to kill himself. that dennis knew that their relationship was over even before he left for london. the police investigation, of course, proved that it was an accident. but still, paul couldn't help but doubt it.

there was another more troubling thing that he discovered about dennis after he was buried. he was writing a script that was based on paul's life. he saw the unfinished script on dennis' laptop that connie had given to him. there was no denying that the main character was him and that dennis wanted to play paul in case it was made into a movie. no wonder he caught him a number of times studying him carefully as though he was a painting. imitating the way he talked and walked. the way he laughed and cried. he also saw a list that dennis made of paul's favorites: food, books, movies, actresses, actors, directors, writers, fashion designers, etc.

after this discovery, he wondered: was dennis really in love with him? or was he just another character in dennis' imagination that he wanted to play one day in his film? if so, why did he kill himself?

dennis remained an enigma until the end.

(ps: all pictures were taken from different web sites. no copyright infringements intended. please inform me if you want them removed. thank you.)