MIGUEL

It went mercifully smooth-sailing, up until dinner. Del had followed my suggestions, with her staff guiding and serving the guests. It was a pleasant affair, and nobody choked or died from food allergy on my watch.

Okay, maybe I was overreacting. I needed a distraction and in typical Miguel fashion, I resorted to thinking of the worst-case scenarios.

Anything. Anything, just to keep my thoughts from wandering back to the man who brushed me off like dust on his shoulder, as though we hadn't seen each other in fifteen years.

Fifteen goddamn years.

When the party was in full swing, everything went by in a blur. I tried to keep my spirits up. I smiled. I laughed. I chatted with friends and impressed a handful of committee members. But by dinnertime, I felt physically and mentally exhausted. One minute I was supervising the banquet and the next, we're on to the next set of programs for the night. I was so out of it, I hadn't eaten a single morsel or drank a drop of anything since the wine.

We were on to the second half of the program when a minor hiccup occurred. I was about to fix myself some food when Elise came lumbering toward me, looking a little nerve-wracked. Again.

"Miggy, I've come to tell you the host is still in the bathroom." She said it so matter-of-factly, I had to blink to process what she'd just said.

"Okay," I said, slowly. "And?"

"He's got an upset stomach and needs a moment to recover. We need to introduce the second guest speaker, Miggy. Like, right now."

I swallowed hard and set my empty plate back on the buffet table.

Okay. This isn't as bad as the food delay. I can handle this, at least.

I loosened the top button of my shirt , took a deep breath, and grabbed the program from Elise's hand. "Miggy, what are you doing?" she said cautiously, as I rolled my shirt sleeves up to my elbows.

"The emcee won't be back up onstage until the next raffle draw, right? Do you think he'll be okay by then?"

"I'm not sure, Miggy, but he said the cramps aren't that bad. He just needs a moment to recover."

"Okay. That's...that's good enough, I guess," I said, more to myself. "Listen, Elise. I'll take over, for now. Go and check up on the emcee, please."

"What? Are you sure?" Her question was pitched somewhere between surprise and doubt.

I nodded. Nobody else can salvage the situation, anyway. I squeezed Elise's arm lightly before letting go and stepping forward toward the stage.

"Oh, wait! Miggy, about the guest speaker, he's—" I didn't hear the rest of her sentence as I got up the stage and gathered my nerves.

The music faded and the crowd lowered their voices as I stood on the raised platform, microphone in hand. I couldn't tell if the crowd was surprised, confused, or curious to see their new host.

"Good evening, everybody! It's so lovely to see you all here tonight. I hope you're all having an amazing time!" A round of cheers and whistles erupted from the crowd. When it died down, I cleared my throat. "So we're on to the second part of tonight's program. Well, I know you're all excited for the next round of our raffle draw," I paused as some of the audience chuckled,"but before anything else, let me introduce to you our second guest speaker for tonight."

From my peripheral vision, I could see a man standing on the other side of the stage. I trained my eyes to the program and read the guest's name. "Let's give a round of applause to Mr. Thomas Monsen."

And then, everything clicked into place. Because the man who joined me onstage was Thomas Padua. Or at least that's what his last name used to be.

No wonder Elise couldn't find him in the list.

My mouth went dry at the cold smile on the approaching man's face. For a moment, I couldn't speak, my tongue seemingly stuck to the roof of my mouth. I glared at the program in my hand, as if it had done me bodily harm. When I looked back up at Thomas, he raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Uhm, yes... Mr. Thomas Monsen," I continued, my voice not sounding like my own. "He... He's an alumnus, from the Batch of 2002, the Franciscans."

Why'd he change his family name? Did something happen to his Mom?

"He's the Chief Operations Officer of Oslo-based tech solutions company, Monsen and Co.; and the founder of startup company, TechStyle, that aims to give back to the community with their DIY textile project kits."As I spoke these words, my chest felt like it's being crushed.

So he's made a life in Oslo. All these years, he's been in fucking Oslo.

"Once again, let's give it up for Mr. Thomas Monsen!"

I turned and looked at him squarely. I extended a hand. Again, he just stared at it, not moving an inch.

I scowled at him as I lowered the microphone. "Let's not embarrass ourselves here. Let's just shake on it. Okay?" I said through gritted teeth. And when he still won't relent, I added, "Please."

Thomas took my hand and shook it firmly, then quickly let go. That was our first touch in fifteen years, and he looked like he'd rather touch a snake.

I gave him the microphone and stepped down from the stage like my ass was on fire.

He and his mother migrated to Oslo, in Norway; finally joined his father after so many years apart. His parents got married after his father's first wife finally agreed and moved forward with a divorce. That's it. The rest was all business talk and his "personal journey to success". He never talked about that one thing I've been dying to know this whole time.

In the end, it was still the same. Those fifteen years apart remained a black hole to me: vast and largely unknown.

Shortly after Thomas's speech, our emcee returned to the stage. Thankfully, the poor guy had recovered enough to get the party rolling again. I didn't bump into Thomas for the rest of the night, which was a small reprieve on my part.

Time passed in a flurry of activity. I let my mind go blank as I switched myself on autopilot. A couple more speakers delivered their speech, a group performed an intermission number, the last round of raffles were drawn (news flash: my sister won herself an iPad), and oh, Thomas was crowned the Alumni Homecoming King (to nobody's surprise). There was no competition, really. He's always been popular among his peers, and he's easily the nicest looking guy that night.

And then came the ribbon-cutting ceremony, which was one of the highlights for the night. I decided to let Elise take the reins and avoid it altogether, because I know Thomas would be there to cut the ribbon himself. I chose instead to make last-minute preparations with the fireworks team, pretending to be preoccupied.

The night capped off with a 15-minute grand fireworks display, by the soccer field. Needless to say, we ended it with a bang.

By 11:30 p.m., most of the guests remained to drink and dance, while others decided to call it a night. Everyone looked tired but equally happy and satisfied, like they've had the time of their lives.

We've done a great job, if I do say so myself. I gave myself a mental pat on the back. This event will be one for the books.

Miguel Anselmo Vargas III, you've thrown a pretty wicked party.