And so I swept the floor clean, nonchalantly whistling a five-note melody I heard somewhere. Mi, mi, fa, so, so... The sound of CJ’c vacuum cleaner had made me not recognize my own voice, something I was very thankful for. Because later this week, I would be missing me. A part of me wished that I would hurt and prayed that he would, too.
Sometimes, there is pleasure in pain; it somehow makes you feel the essence of life; we need to be hurting at times to know we’re alive. Woah, I’m alive!
I tried forgetting the idea that on Friday, I would be meeting him. Here in my room. In my bed. Because for three million pesos, he would be mine. Or at least that would be for one night.
If only that bastard knew how much I lost for the rendezvous...Where we would have cheap wine, cheap talks. And we would do it. But before that I would slap him in the face, and make him beg for his life.
As I uncluttered the litter box hidden under the far side of my bed, I recognized a familiar piece. There it was, that pesky fortune cookie fortune I used to keep for good old times’ sake. Pasted on a scrapbook page I torn from my collection.
Fate ceases to favor the weak.
I crumpled the tiny scrap of paper and threw it onto the floor. Fate ceases to favour the weak. I watched the vacuum cleaner sip it in, swallowing the paper as well as other essentials, cotton buds, a sock, a golden earring. The ornament made a slight annoying sound before it finally went in. The noise made my head ache.
Suddenly, my hands felt tired, I lost grasp of the vacuum handle. So, it stood on the floor. I knew I had to stop. Cobwebs were still unattended. The cabinet was both empty and full. The rug was a dirty mess. Cigarette butts were everywhere. But it was the end of the cleaning. Mi, mi, fa, so, so. I lost the tune.
Fate ceases to favour the weak? How I wish I could prove it wrong.
*******
“What is written on the contract is what will be happening. Page 14 on the ethical standards of devirginization.”
“I know.” Of course she did. But how she wished she could simply order the brat a change in conditions.
“Then, what’s that look?” said Felixa, a twenty-something negotiator from Bittersweet. She had pink fingernails on her right hand and black on the other.
“You’re cool.” She said pointing at her fingernails.
“Thank you. But madam, you know very well that I was assigned to arrange this for you under settled and signed provisions.”
“Page 2. Every patron is God. How about that?”
Silence. Ria had been keeping that ace, worried that it might not pull the strings together. However, seemed like it did.
“But...” The rocker chick tried ignoring the grin on the face of the woman before her, and she knew she had lost it. Two hours of rhetoric and the customer was but a hard-headed nut.
“If you could only tell Master the details, it would help. What do you say?” Her voice was almost pleading.
Master, but of course. I was your Master’s master. Hell, no.
“Oh, darling, I know you could handle that. What about a better nail art?” she said, tossing a five-hundred peso bill to Felixa who was immobile.
She waved goodbye to the lady and breathed to herself, “Iron 59 you’re in trouble. And so am I.”
(to be continued... should Ella find the actual second copy)
L.L.
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