Which
would you rather, to be right or be happy?
Whose
fault is it anyway?
He
turned to see the boy walked pass him. He thought he was handsome. A boy.
With
his dreamy eyes, innocence reflected. Fool.
A
boy, he was twenty years younger than him. A boy, that is all one would see.
Fool.
Fooled.
Deceitful.
Perhaps,
he didn’t intend it. It was just what was given to him. Blessed.
Camouflaged. It’s a gift rather than he thought he should. He realized
this perhaps so he might as well used it.
Or
that he was a boy with a dream. Big dreams.
A
boy. Wanting to get somewhere. Wanting to be somebody. A boy. Just but a
boy. He knows nothing yet but he knows where he wanted to be. He doesn’t
know any better yet.
If
he know better, would he rather the right way or still?
Or
was he the one who knows nothing? He turned to see and there the boy was.
Slouched
down the couch, he watched him intently. Soft hair starts to line his lips.
His
eyes were half awake, half dreaming. It’s probably because of the brandy
they drunk. His lips were full, still pinkish in color –inviting. His body
was just there –naked from waist up. His briefs garter peeping out.
Youthful. Waiting to be touch, caressed.
Does
he want it? Or was he just cruel? He knew he was watching him with desire
across the low table. He reached for a cigarette. Looked at him. Almost
bored. Asking. What was his question? Light one. All through it, the boy
tried to held his stare. Then slouched back in the couch. There were no
words.
Moments
passed.
The
boy’s cigarette almost done, he straightened up. Looked straight in his
eyes.
He
looked away.
Which
would you rather, to be right or happy –satisfy a want?
Right.
He worked hard. Earned. Invested his money on a business. Then earned again.
When there was money, he decided to have a family. Got him self a
girlfriend. Married her, now he has a child, Katherine. Right.
It’s
not what he wanted but it was right.
What
did he want?
Ah…
to live right!
Lisa
was nice. Naïve but then naivety is not a character flaw, is it?
Lisa
was nice. Beautiful. Always giving. She was willing to give it all to him,
to her family. Never asking but just to be there for her family. That alone
was her happiness. That alone was what she needed to be happy.
She
loves him.
He
loves her… at some point, he believes he love her.
And
they thought of forever.
The
boy slouched down, give up a sigh. Utterly frustrated.
Neither
spoke still. He pretended not to notice or at least that he cared.
Then
got up again. Took one looked at him. Then moved to the table, closed to
him. Their knees were touching.
The
boy held his eyes. He wanted to look away.
“You
want me,” the boy said. Flatly.
How
dare him assume! He has a wife and a child! How dare him assume! What is he
trying to imply!
But
they both know it’s true.
It’s
not a question. It was more of a statement. But still, he thought it needed
to be answered.
He
has a wife and a child.
The
boy reached for his hand. Gently. He didn’t move. He wasn’t able to
move.
They
both know the truth.
The
boy held his hand. He let him. He liked it and he has no power to deny it.
He wanted it.
Which
would you rather, to be wrong or unhappy?
The
boy, with much caution not to startle, carried his hand to his chest.
Guiding it to feel him like saying, “see how good it feels… see, I know
you like it…”
Indeed,
he liked it.
“No
need to be afraid…”
How
much he longed for it?
The
boy moved closer and so was he…
How
much he longed for him?
Lately…
he doesn’t know when it started exactly. He wasn’t sure.
What
he was sure was that it was the boy who was in his mind whenever the cold
breeze from somewhere blows him to shiver.
And
lately, the cold breeze comes ever so frequently.
He
would fuck Lisa, his wife.
Kissed
her lips. Caressed her body. Let her moan in delight. It was her, Lisa. He
knows so… but it was the boy who he was making love with. He was doing it
with the boy in mind.
Now
it happened. It’s really him who is against his skin. Him he is touching.
It’s him who is fucking him. It’s him, the boy.
If
this were wrong, would you rather be right?
He
longed for him and now he is in his arms.
“You
want me.”
“Yes,
I do.”
“I
need you.”
“How?”
“To
learn. Teach me.”
And
in turn…
He
have what the boy wants… need.
The
boy have what he wants… what he need.
He
no longer has to long.
He
has him.
Katherine
looked at him. “Papa,” she said holding her hands up, wanting to be
lift. He was working. Going by the boy's work. He doesn’t want to stop and
hold her. “Papa!” she called again, louder, her hands up still. He
didn’t want to stop. The boy’s work is not bad but it needed work. He
thought something is missing. “Papa!” she called again and again, louder
and louder, until she was screaming.
Lisa
was in the kitchen.
He
didn’t want to stop working. He can’t stop working. He needs to work.
But Katherine went on bugging him in her want to be held by her own father.
She
started to pound on the table, stamp her feet on the floor. Later, he said
but Katherine doesn’t understand. She screamed some more and started
throwing things.
It
irritated him.
He
screamed at her.
Katherine
screamed back.
It
irritated him some more.
He
hit her in the face… blood spurt out her lips.
Katherine
is four. She wasn’t able to speak or cry.