Ladlad 3 by J. Neil C. Garcia

Author:J. Neil C. Garcia
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789712733376
Publisher: Anvil Publishing, Inc.

Jose Claudio B. Guerrero

Essence

We had just finished lunch in a small café along Katipunan Road. Two cups of steamy brew enveloped our table in a delicious aroma.

“So where did you meet?” I asked my friend Patrick as he put down his coffee cup.

“At the Faculty Center in UP.”

“Again? How come you meet a lot of guys there? I’m always there and nothing ever happens.”

Patrick pointed to his face and smiled.

“Che!” I replied, laughing. But I knew that it was true. Patrick was not really that good-looking, but he had this sexy air about him. And he had fair skin which was, for most Filipinos, a prerequisite for beauty. I looked at the mirror behind him and saw my dark, emaciated reflection.

“So anyway, I was washing my face in the ground floor washroom when in comes this really cute guy. I’ve seen him on campus a few times before. So anyway, he goes and takes a leak,” Patrick paused. “You know those FC urinals, right?”

I nodded. “No partitions.”

Patrick took another sip from his cup and continued. “So anyway, this guy sees me checking him out. To my surprise, he turns to me, giving me a full view of him in all his glory and smiles. I smiled back. And,” Patrick took a deep breath, “the rest is for me alone to know.” He ended by dabbing the sides of his napkin to his mouth.

I knew pressing Patrick for more details would shut him up just like that so I let it pass. I could wheedle out all the details later. “So what’s his name?”

“Carlo.”

I raised an eyebrow and gave Patrick my you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. He laughed and nodded in agreement.

“Yes it’s another Carlo. It’s always Carlo, or Paolo, or Mike, or jay—”

“So what name did you use?” I asked, cutting him short.

“My favorite, Paolo.” We both laughed. “Enough of me. Tell me about yourself. It’s been what, a month since we talked?”

“More like three weeks,” I answered as I motioned to a waiter for the cake menu.

“Oh no. You’re ordering cake.”

“Why?”

“You order cake when you’re depressed.”

“No I don’t. And anyway, I’m not depressed this time.” The waiter arrived with the cake menu. After giving our orders, Patrick continued pressing me for news.

“I told you, I lead a boring life.”

“I’m sure,” answered Patrick mischievously. “So how’s your Chinese boyfriend?”

Patrick’s question caught me off-guard as I sipped from my cup. I snorted and felt coffee go up my nose. We both started laughing. “He’s not Chinese,” I answered when I had recovered. “He’s Korean. And he’s not my boyfriend, excuse me. I’m his tutor.”

“I’m sure,” said Patrick needling me. “And what are you tutoring him in?”

“English.”

“I’m sure. Oh good, here’s the cake.”

As I dug my fork into my cake’s rich cream cheese, I happened to look at the mirror and saw the café doors open. A dumpy, fair-skinned guy walked in. “Oh my God.” I froze.

Patrick saw the expression on my face and looked around for what caused it. Finding it, he said, “Don’t tell me you’re still crazy over Mark.

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