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I have a love and hate relationship with the rain.
I hate it, because it reminds me of my childhood struggles. It was raining when my mother left us for good. The wind blew through the house, the curtains swayed forcefully, as it carried the muffled cries of my siblings who were wailing in our living room. At that moment, I was mindlessly chopping vegetables in our kitchen, preparing a meal that would eventually turn cold. Nobody ate that day, we cried our eyes out until we slept, with our empty stomachs and an even emptier heart.
The storms that followed didn’t stop throughout my early life. It was as if I was destined to drown in misery. My father became a hollow shell of a man, so my siblings and I had to step up and be the adult for him. He was so lost, that he often forgets to eat or clean his room. He forgets a lot of things, and it has caused multiple conflicts in the household. I hated it when he couldn’t step up, as he let life consume him to the point that he forgot that we were kids too.
Our home became empty, and the warmth it once provided all went with my mother. To me, the house meant nothing more than bricks piled together.
***
Even the once sturdy structure of our house began to decline, I remember how we struggled to evacuate when a storm surge ravaged our village, and the house was in ruins. The foundations crumbled, as if the universe was telling us to move away and move forward.
We ended up with nothing. Even our belongings were destroyed, my clothes washed away, and we had to scavenge through the piles and piles of clothes donated. Some too small, others too big, but it was enough to bring back some semblance of dignity within me. We lined up for canned goods and noodles, praying silently that the ration was enough to reach us.
***
Since then, I have been carrying that invisible storm within. I went through life in autopilot mode, but I still strived to make things better. The clothes that I lost were replaced by clothes that I created. It started as a hobby, dressing up to feel good; then it eventually became a business idea. I guess it was a hyper fixation of replacing things I’ve lost throughout my life – my childhood, our home, my mom. It was me trying to cover up the empty shell I was in.
I was beginning to have a breakthrough in my career when I met Paulo. He was introduced as an account manager of the business I was trying to establish back then. We started awkwardly as two young men, going through our early stages in our career. He was new, but he was headstrong. We would often headbutt with our ideas, but all for the sake of the business I was trying to establish.
The strong torrential rain in me began to decline as life began to seep through. For the first time, I welcomed the rain and solace that came with Paulo.
Everything seemed to thrive and blossom into something worthy. My career, my business, my emotions. It was still chaotic, but at least I felt a sense of purpose. That finally, I wasn’t a useless kid who was just drowning in his own world.
It was one of those nights when I was mindlessly driving around the city, when the rain blanketed the vicinity. I saw Paulo, alone, without an umbrella. He looked so helpless and lost that I remember stopping over to offer him a ride. When I called him out, the look of relief washed on his face, his eyes lightened up when he saw me. And I swear, that look will forever be embedded in my brain. He brings life with his eyes alone.
In my defense, I tried to keep it professional, the calls stayed within business hours, the conversations were all about the strategic steps on how to move my business to greater heights. But, I couldn’t help it. Paulo is a pretty face, with a brilliant and beautiful mind. I tried to convince myself that I needed his skills, I needed his logical opinions. I just – really needed him around.
Sometimes, I deliberately ask him to stay so we could brainstorm, even when I’m out of ideas and I just wanted his presence. He didn’t seem to mind.
When I get frustrated with my family, I demand his time and we go on “business trips” that truthfully were all wasted time. The random out of town trips to look for quality fabrics were just excuses and were definitely out of his scope. Still, he didn’t seem to mind.
But when I finally caught him staring at me with the same hunger and desire that mirrored my own, I broke the boundaries and kissed him like he was my only salvation. An answered prayer that I thought would never come. I was drowning in ecstasy and hope bloomed from the barren landscape of my heart. It was at that moment that I felt a dam break from within, all my deep-seated emotions drowned by the endless rain – persistently surged and overflowed. He returned my kisses with such fervor that it flooded my senses and rewired my brain.
My heart hummed in anticipation, the tingling sensation reached my fingertips and toes, urging me to cling on to him, to feel him, to anchor myself from this overwhelming feeling. I didn’t know how I had lived through all these years without tasting Paulo’s lips. I didn't know that I was capable of feeling alive.
***
I wanted to introduce Paulo to my father, I was tolerant of the man. I kept him around just because nobody from my siblings wanted to be with him. He’s bitter and grumpy all the time, and it suddenly became my responsibility to take care of him. I didn’t know what I was thinking when I told him about Paulo in passing, but he gave an underhanded remark. He said it’ll make him happy and proud if I gave him many grandchildren. It was said indirectly but the message came through loud and clear. And fucked, that hurt.
I didn’t know why the opinion of an absentee father affected me so much. After all the times I have supported and kept him sane, he still had the audacity to dictate my life. But fuck it, I still wanted some form of validation from him.
The happy feelings were instantly trampled on, pressure mounted and I spiraled into a vicious cycle of bad decisions. I wanted to appease my father so I introduced a girl named Atasha. She is pretty, with doe-like eyes, a cute button nose, a mole on her chin, and her dimples would appear whenever she smiles. Her pretty face matches her wit too, and her humor reminds me of Paulo.
So I kept the two around, because I couldn’t choose. I needed Atasha to keep my father happy; I needed Paulo to keep me happy. When I told Paulo about Atasha, he just smiled, and he didn’t seem to mind.
I tried to distance myself from Paulo; I tried to keep it professional. In my defense, I called within business hours. Our conversations were still all about my business. But Paulo – I couldn’t resist him; when pressure mounts from all sides of my life, I find myself knocking on his doorstep to find solace in him. He calms my storms through his kisses, and he soothes my worries with his embrace. When I can’t breathe, I seek him for refuge. He is after all, my own salvation. I kept knocking on his door, and he didn’t seem to mind.
***
I was happy for a while, I see my father smile more often when I bring Atasha around. Our relationship was cemented further when Atasha made an effort for my siblings and my father to reconcile. I didn’t ask her to, but she did it anyway. One time, the subject of marriage and kids came up during one of our visits to my father, and I was backed in a corner once again. The jerk was smiling, and Atasha’s face was hopeful. But at the back of my mind, my heart is breaking, for I know that I couldn’t resist a request from my stupid father. I should be happy, I am, in a way. But I feel like drowning again, it left me questioning if this is the life that I really wanted.
***
I have been standing in front of Paulo’s door for the last ten minutes. I wanted to knock immediately but my hands felt heavy; my wrists are bounded by invisible shackles that the universe has finally placed on my guilty hands. Perhaps, this time, I have to pay the price for being greedy, for wanting Paulo too much but never really committing anything to him.
I knew in my heart that this would be the last time, so I finally built the courage to knock. The smell of Paulo’s white tea diffuser wafted through my nostrils gently greeting me as he opened the door. The house is warm, and full of familiar comfort. I have seen the house multiple times, but I have never really looked at it. My heart is hurting, as I stare at his space of solace, for I know that I’ll never see it again.
I stared at Paulo for so long, he looked like he just took a shower, his hair still slightly damped, and he was wearing the pajama set that I’ve gifted him from his birthday last year. His eyes were staring back, those piercing gazes that always ground me. Are his eyes sad? Or was it just the guilt nagging me.
“Are you just gonna stand there?” Paulo asked quietly. I shook my head and smiled. Forcefully shaking away the guilt. I entered his house, and without further talking, I fully kissed the man that has always held my heart.
***
I made love to Paulo all night, it began as an urgent unsatiable fucking, as I felt the need to get close to his skin as much as I can. But eventually it ended with gentle caresses and soft kisses, I wanted to melt into his being and stay with him forever.
Love. For the first time ever, I finally admitted to myself that I love Paulo. But perhaps, it was too late?
I took time and worshipped all of him. I held and touched every curve and dips of Paulo’s body, memorizing the way he would react to me. I kissed him fervently, long languid strokes of tongue, silently asking for forgiveness for what I am about to do. And I held him closer as he climaxed, licking his neck further to prolong his ecstasy.
“You are acting weird tonight.” Paulo commented sleepily. “Why?” I carefully asked.
“Well, you kept staring more than usual. Do I have something on my face?” He scrunched his nose in annoyance, but I laughed at the gesture. “You’re imagining things, just go to sleep.”
“Yeah, just…lock the door when you leave.” He replied, with one final yawn, Paulo finally fell asleep.
When I leave. Should I?
I listened to Paulo’s steady breathing. I tried to stay awake with all the remaining strength in me and I just looked at him. Forcing my heavy eyes, I stared at his face, memorized the planes of his skin, his mole placement above his lips, his scar underneath his right ear, the other mole on his collarbone, all these beauty marks that make it uniquely him. Perhaps I was pushing myself to stretch the moment, because I can sense the brewing storm that is about to comeback in my life in full force. I wanted this small chance of peace before I finally face it.
Paulo’s glowing face in a white suit in front of an altar was one of my last thoughts as I finally succumb to slumber.
***
When I woke up, the warm body of Paulo was the first thing I recognized, and I immediately wrapped my arms around his waist. His manly scent was so alluring I sniffed his neck on instinct, even without opening my eyes first. I wanted to stay here, with Paulo, and forget the world outside. Can I?
I can already hear the beginnings of the morning rain. The light pitter patter on the roof is disrupting the moment. I know I couldn’t keep this forever. But would it be too selfish of me if I wanted to stay longer? My nagging conscience knocked. I regress.
“Pau, we need to talk.” I exhaled heavily. There, it’s now out.
“Good morning, what’s up?” I felt Paulo’s body quiver. I know he’s already wondering why I am still here. I never stayed in his bed. For four years, we fucked, I get up and leave. I knock on his door for more times than I cared to remember, he welcomes me unfailingly, and I leave his comfort when I’m done. Was this it?
But I needed to do this. I hugged him tightly before disentangling myself from him. My throat felt dry, and I suddenly couldn’t speak up.
“If you’re worried about the meeting with the Hongkong executives, don’t be. I took care of every detail yesterday. Their representative sounded confident and positive that the negotiations will push through.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then why?”
“Why are you still here though?” I can hear the confusion in Paulo’s voice. But what do I say? How do I even say it?
“I wanted to tell you properly, I didn’t have the chance last night….” I started slowly.
“Okay, then tell me.”
How should I tell you Pau? That I just realized that I love you? I loved you all these years but I couldn't be with you because Atasha suddenly told me that she is pregnant? Or maybe I should tell you to stay with me even though I’m having a child? That would be too cruel, ‘cause I know you’ll say you wouldn’t mind.
“I’m getting married. So I wanted this to end, properly.” There, I said it, I sounded like a big-time jerk. But I probably deserved this. I am preparing for the onslaught of emotions, of things that’ll be thrown at me, for –
“Okay.” I heard him quietly reply.
Shit. Oh Paulo, you are too kind.
“Okay? Pau, I just wa–…”
“Just go, Ken. Leave.”
“I’m sorry, Pau.” I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to fight for you.
“Don’t make this harder for me. Just go.” I wanted to hug Paulo one last time, but he has moved further away from the bed, and I’ll be too much of a jerk if I begged for him further, because I’ll know he’ll forgive me, he always does. Even without asking, I know he has always forgiven me for all the wrong things I have brought in his life. Damn fuck, it hurts. I feel my chest caving in. Rain, endless rain. Inside my heart and outside Paulo’s house. The pitter patter of the rain outside became stronger, forceful thumps sounded against the roof.
All I can see are blurry lines of the wooden planks from Paulo’s ceiling. I didn’t even realize that the tears had come. I sighed heavily.
I faced his back, silently asking for forgiveness again, but I can see his body shaking. I know he’s holding it in.
I stood up from the bed and gathered my things, the invisible shackles on my wrist pulling me out of the room. With one final click of the door, I heard Paulo’s despair. It broke something in me, permanently.
This is my punishment, away from Paulo, away from my refuge. It’s time to retreat to my gloomy, rainy and lonely world; for I cannot be the reason of a child’s endless storm. I shall not become my father. I thought I’d make it through my life’s storms, but here I am, truly destined to drown in misery, forever seeking Paulo’s warmth in a woman’s body.
I exited his life, drenched from head to toe, feeling nothing. The storm was unforgiving, it poured down relentlessly, and it felt endless.