"Oh heavens, I hope not," replied the lady named Bianca. "At least not when I'm still here in the country. I'm only back for a week-long vacation." She turned back to me and it was then I remembered the image of an acne-ridden, baby-faced teenage girl who used to follow Ate around like a shadow, back in high school. Now she's a perfect example of a glow-up.
"You remember my brother, Miggy." Ate motioned for me to come closer. "Miggy, this is Bianca Garces. She's a good friend of mine. We've been classmates since freshman year." And then, her lips curled into a mischievous smile. "She's had a crush on you since the moment you transferred to the university."
Bianca mock-gasped as she swatted my sister on the arm. "Katie, you traitor!" I smiled as we shook hands. "Pleasure to see you again, Miguel. I'm part of this year's hosting committee, and I absolutely adore what you did to the place," she said, amusement lacing her words. "I really feel like I'm in for a wild shindig tonight, and it's been a long while. Now all we need is Leonardo DiCaprio to start with a toast."
She must be really important then, to be part of the committee. In short, she's one of a handful of people I needed to impress. "I have to apologize for the, uhm..." I motioned to the catering staff behind her, who were still setting up the chocolate fountain and arranging rows of molded and dipped salads.
Bianca glanced behind her, then waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, no worries. The party won't start until 6:30, remember?" From behind her, my sister mouthed, "I told you so," and I smiled.
Bianca snatched a glass of wine from a passing waiter, took a small sip, and that conspiratorial smile returned to her face. "Tell me something, Miguel. Katie and I would always chat online, but she tends to gate-keep you. Do you know what I mean?" I frowned at this, and then she continued, "So, are you married? Do you have kids?"
Oh. I see now. I gave her a lopsided smile and said, "If you meant married to a woman, then no, I'm not. But if you meant married to a man, well it's still a no, but I'd like to someday."
Bianca was visibly startled by my admission, but quickly took it in a stride. "Oh. Well. Yes. I remember Katie mentioning something like that." And by "that", she meant my being gay.
I remind myself that St. Aloysius University is a Jesuit school run by, well, Jesuits. But while a Jesuit school is always Catholic, not all Catholic schools are Jesuit. And from a religious and political standpoint, a Jesuit school, like my Alma Mater, tends to be more...liberal.
The Jesuits —a slightly different brand of Catholic priests—who run the school are free thinkers. And with the Cura Personalis* deeply ingrained in their values, these folks have deep respect for difference and diversity.
But while they're all nice people, they're still deeply rooted in Catholic tradition. I've devoured enough of the Leviticus to understand that some of these folks are still hung up on the belief that men are solely meant for women, and vice versa. So while I'm out, I don't openly advertise my sexuality—especially when I'm on school premises. And I'm not about to change that now. I need to be in my best behavior and by that, I shouldn't flaunt my "gayness"—whatever the hell that meant.
My sister's teasing chuckle broke my train of thought. "And this is why I told you you'll never win him over," she said as she nudged Bianca with her elbow.
Bianca took several more gulps of the wine, and I worried she'd get tipsy before the party had even begun. "Yes, well, it might just be a phase, Miguel. Who knows? Hey, do you know that singer David Archuleta? He used to be gay, but he's dating a girl now."
I fought myself from groaning and rolling my eyes. This, again? How many times have I reminded people that once you're gay, you can never ungay yourself? I might just need a glass of wine myself!
"It's not just a phase, Bianca," I replied, putting air quotes around the word phase as I narrowed my eyes at her. "And to answer your question, yes, I'm familiar with Archuleta. I love the guy. Also, he's bisexual. That's the 'B' in LGBT, by the way. They exist. I'm more of the 'G' variety, though." Seriously, I don't like where this conversation is going, and I kept side-eyeing my villain of a sister, for not intervening right at this moment.
Unfortunately for me, she stayed mum as Bianca kept shooting off her mouth about wives and kids. "Alright. But you're what, thirty? Don't you at least want to have kids? Nobody wants to grow old sad and lonely, Miguel. You need someone to support and care for you as you grow old."
Yup, she's definitely a Karen, and she needs to be shut down, fast. "You know, I'd rather be at the hospice growing old with a clear conscience, than to live the rest of my life miserable and contributing to a pool of unhappy marriages; fooling a woman into marrying me, and then bringing children into this world with hurt and resentment, knowing I'll never be capable of loving their mother. Some people just don't want to marry and have children, Bianca. And they're perfectly happy and content with their lives. That's just how the world works."
I pursed my lips together to stop the word vomit that spewed from my mouth, but it's too late. I've gone and done it now. I've pissed off a committee member when I'm supposed to be earning their approval. I grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter and gulped desperately at it, as if my life depended on it.
Bianca's cheeks flushed, looking angry, or maybe embarrassed. Either way, she's not happy. She held her now empty glass out toward me, and I took it. "Well...it's been nice talking to you, Miguel," she said flatly. Her smile was thin and forced as she turned to Ate. "I'll go to see if Father Chua's already here. Want to come with?"
I don't understand what the hell she finds amusing, but my sister is holding back a smile. "I'll catch up with you later, Biancs. I promised Miggy I'd help him out."
"Suit yourself," Bianca said in a low voice. And then, she looked at me with a stony expression, eyes hard and grim. "See you around, then." She gave a stiff nod and walked out.
Once she was out of earshot, my sister laughed so hard she snorted. "Oh my god, you roasted her!" she said with a look that hovered between awe and disbelief. "You're a real mean bitch, Miguel Anselmo Vargas III. I'd hate to be on your wrong side."
"I'm glad to be your source of entertainment, but excuse me, I'm the one being mean? She called me a fake gay and a loner who needs a caregiver in order to be happy!"
My sister sobered a bit as she shook her head and clapped me on the arm. "I'm pretty sure that's not what she said, but I get your point. You shouldn't have taken her seriously, though. I wish you'd go and apologize to her."
"I've nothing to apologize for. I just gave her a piece of my mind," I pointed out, glaring at my sister. I don't care even if she's part of the committee. I didn't believe she intended to offend, but she doesn't have to impose her narrow-minded yardstick of values on others.
Besides, she's not the only member of the committee. There are still a few others I can impress.
Just then, Elise came back looking fresher and prettier than ever. She tied her hair up into a high bun, with dangling feather earrings that skimmed her jawline as she moved her head. She made a face as she looked from Ate and then to me. "Did I miss something?"
"Nope," Ate and I replied almost simultaneously while glancing at each other.
"Whatever, weirdos," my best friend said, brows knitted together in confusion.
For the next few minutes, we busied ourselves by guiding the guests to their respective tables, giving out last-minute instructions to the catering team, and chatting briefly with friends whom we hadn't seen in years.
By 6:20 p.m., majority of the guests have already arrived. A few small groups were chatting away, while others were taking pictures and marveling at the fondant cake. Waves of aroma from expensive perfumes and colognes filled the air; the soft sound of jazz music mixing with the excited chatter of the attendees and the clinking of glasses.
My body hummed with adrenaline and excitement. The party was about to begin. Ate and Elise were standing on either side of me, looking just as giddy as I was.
"I think we should get the ball rolling soon," I suggested.
Elise nodded as she pulled out a piece of paper from her blazer pocket. "The host is already waiting backstage. He's good to go, Miggy."
"And the speakers? Have they already been rounded up?"
Just when Elise was about to open her mouth, a loud round of cheers and whoops resounded just a few meters away from us.
"Oh, the star of the night has finally arrived," Elise announced.
I stood on tiptoe and craned my neck so I could get a better look at the stranger with whom a handful of people were talking to and posing for a photo.
Except he wasn't a stranger.
This person in front of me held the face of a ghost from my past.
There's no way... It can't be...
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