A Short Story

You have memories with Angel to look back today. His phone lights up with the Facebook notification. Despite his sleepy state, he props his head up on this favorite pillow and clicks on the notification. He isn’t particularly a big fan of social media – too noisy in his head. He once tried to deactivate his account across all apps, but his work apparently requires some form of social networking so he gave in.

He remembers this day quite fondly. He was out partying the night before and forgotten that he had to pick his mom up from their house in Pangasinan. His mother had reminded him over and over about the schedule, but while he loved his mom to bits, there were times when getting a girl during a party takes precedence over everything else.

“10am, Carlo ha. I have too much pasalubong to bring home. Don’t expect me to take the bus.” He stifled a laugh. His mom was such a character.

He scrolled thru his phonebook to check who can drive for him. The friends he spent time with last night won’t be much help. He scratched his head and took a swig of water he had kept beside his bed. He went back to his contact list and contemplated for a moment if he can ask one of ex playmates to go with him. He wisely decided against it, too complicated, and it would be an entire week of headache to manage his mom’s expectations for meeting a girl.

Never once had he ever introduced any of his girls to his mother. Mostly because none of those relationships were serious anyway. He wasn’t a player, at least in his definition, but he just didn’t want to move past the sex part. Emotions and commitments just seemed too exhausting. It’s been going well for him so far, so if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?

He was ready to call a lifeline – his uncle, his mother’s brother, who didn’t really like him that much – when one of his Star Wars statues caught his eye. Of course! Angel would be available, and she wasn’t considered a girl. Plus he’s pretty sure she didn’t have anything better to do during weekends anyway. And the BB-8 toy she gave him seemed to agree.

He picked up his phone once again and dialed.

“Uy Angel, I need a driver.”

“And?”

“Pagdrive mo ko…”

“Ok fine. Give me 20 minutes. I want a hot fudge sundae.”

Carlo clicks on the photo on the Facebook memory. It’s a picture of Angel with hot fudge sundae all over her shirt. Her sulky expression transports him back to that moment when she looked like she was about to cry.

“Here’s your ice cream. Sa Pangasinan tayo ha.”

Her shock caused her fingers to lose their grip and her sundae toppled over.

*Snap*

The sound of the camera on his phone made her look up and pout.

*Snap*

Upload.

He laughed so hard his head hurt. His hangover hasn’t worn off. He fumbled for the water bottle she brought. That’s one of the nice things about Angel. Because she didn't have much responsibilities at home, Angel made it her duty to take care of him as if he’s her baby – or pet. She seemed to always be there whenever he needed her. There would always be food for him if she felt like Carlo forgot to eat breakfast again. He didn’t want to be treated like a dog, but she seemed so earnest and happy when she did it, so he let her.

It was quite a long drive – longer than expected. Because Angel decided to be so chatty the entire time, her usual drag race driving mellowed down for this trip. She was giving him a blow-by-blow account of her matchmaking for a friend, and her eyes glowed brightly as she reported the progress. Another thing he liked about her. She seemed to take pleasure in making other people happy.

And his mom loved Angel. He suspected that it was because they relished in making fun of him whenever they thought he couldn’t hear them. Regardless of the reason, he liked that his mom was entertained by Angel’s presence. He could catch up on his sleep as soon as they start their conversation about putting Nestle cream on almost every dish. When he woke up, their topic moved to celebrity endorsements and the conspiracy theories on advertisements.

Carlo sits up on his bed and ponders for a while. His friendship with Angel was one for the books. He has never had anyone else sleep in his arms with the sole intention to keep her protected. She’s like a kid, with the same emotional quotient and maturity. At least with him. And just like a kid, she absorbed everything she reads and learns. That resulted in her having an opinion on almost everything. Scratch the almost. She has an opinion on everything.

He remembers their discussion on the way home from Pangasinan as his mom slept at the backseat.

“Why can’t men commit?”

“Men can commit. Most of the dads I know are married.”

“Why won’t you get a girlfriend?”

“Why would anyone get a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know. So you get taken care of when you get old.”

“I don’t need one then, I have you.”

She mused about his answer for a while and was about to counter a retort. But with a slight shake of her head, she seemed to decide not to. She changed the topic right after and continued her chatter for the duration of the ride home.

Carlo’s brows crease slowly. He doesn’t quite understand the sudden unease he’s sensing. Something has changed between them that day.

What was it?

It has been years since that seemingly significant day. So many things have happened since then. Yet he still can’t shake this feeling.

What is it?

Maybe talking to Angel will help. That had always put him in a good mood. She made him feel like everything is going to be okay. After all, Angel was once the voice of sanity when his life was spiraling down. No matter what his issue was, she had always known what to say and when to say it. He ventures it to be a result of all those tarot card reading or whatever voodoo stuff she was so hooked on. For someone so grounded, Angel got a certain high in leaving things to chance. Or fate as she put it.

Instinctively, he starts dialing her number.

Three rings. It has been a while since he last talked to her.

Six. He has been so busy with his own life, he hardly has the energy to think about how she’s doing.

Ten. He just doesn’t have the time.

Dropped.

He sighs. So many years have passed. So much more memories. Parties once the sun sets, leaves before the sun is about to rise. He’s jumped from one woman to the next since that day. Never stays with the same one. Mindless, emotionless sex again and again. Just the way he likes it.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen Angel. He only saw her when he’s not too busy. Busy with his family, busy with friends, with work, girls. And because he was so absorbed in his own life, spending time with her became less and less. Until one day, it just stopped. 

Maybe he should hit the club and find a girl to sleep with and shake this off. Get his mind off this… whatever this is. Or maybe just get someone from his contact list. No, not her. No. Nope. Not her too. No. 

He sighs again.

He doesn’t want to see anyone else. He just wants to be with her. Angel. He wants to see her childish smile and smell her familiar scent. He wants to tease her as she pretends to get offended. He wants to laugh with her until they both get tired. He wants to watch the latest scary movie with her that he’s positive she likes. He wants to take her to that new Persian restaurant he’s discovered. He wants to take her on a road trip again, maybe on his birthday with her favorite spaghetti cooked by his mom. 

He wants to wrap her in his arms and hold her tight until they both fall asleep. 

He wants her. He wants Angel. His Angel.

He looks at his Facebook again and opens her profile.

Sharp breath.

Cold chill down his spine. Sinking feeling just got worse.

Angel’s relationship status has changed from “Single” to “Married”.