On the sidewalk, atired-looking woman cradling an infant sat on a footstool. Calebstopped in front of her, eyes sweeping over the meager assortmentof candies. He asked for a cigarette.
“Which kind?” the womanasked.
Caleb had no idea. Hepointed to a cigarette pack stamped with green letters.
“Menthol?”
He nodded and the woman gotthe box. She tapped its bottom, making the cigarette sticks shootout like weapons. Gingerly, Caleb took one. The woman held out alighter, and the child in her arms wailed.
As the woman scrambled forcoins for the twenty-peso bill he had given her, Caleb shook hishead. “Keep the change.”
He walked away, putting thecigarette between his lips, marveling at how fragile and soft itspaper skin felt. Then he sucked air into his mouth, unprepared forthe icy air flooding his lungs. Immediately, his eyes watered andhe doubled over, chest wracked with coughing.
When he regained hisbreath, the rain came, tiptoeing on his skin. Caleb lifted his faceto the sky, and the drizzle felt like butterfly wings brushingagainst his cheeks. The rain increased in tempo and volume, peltinghis skin with needles.
The opening notes ofChopin’s Raindrop played in his head, and he imagined himself asthe star of its music video. The guy caught in the rain with noumbrella, lips clamped on a damp cigarette as he squared hisshoulders and walked on.
* * *
“Aren’t you going toschool?”
“Tomorrow, Ma.”
“Are you feeling well? Ifound your clothes in the hamper and they were soaking wet. I hungthem out to dry. Didn’t I tell you to always bring anumbrella?”
“Sorry. I’ll wash themlater.”
Caleb kept his eyes closed,listening to his mom’s heavy breathing just above his face. It wasfollowed by the shuffling of low-heeled shoes. He could make outhis mom’s progress just by the sounds she made. The front doorbeing locked with successive clicks. The gate squeaking open. Thecar door slamming shut. An engine firing up. The gate squeakingshut.
Then silence. Blessed,blessed silence.
Caleb shifted in his bed,and dove into a dreamless slumber.
Chapter 17:Tremolo
“Schooltoday, Caleb?”
The face above his wassurrounded in a haze of morning light. It brought a flashback intohis childhood when that same face would peer down on him when hewould wake up sick. Now, the face had more lines around its eyesand mouth, but it had the same of look of concern that made himwant to snuggle into his mother’s arms.
“What isit, mahal?” She smoothed down his hair, and Caleb closed his eyesmelting into the gesture. Back then, that question was all it tookfor him to bare his heart to her. There were no secrets then.Nothing held back, even his most trivial thoughts and worries.Caleb suddenly missed his childhood.
“Sorry, Ma.” He swallowedthe lump in his throat. “Sorry about . . . the past few days. ButI’ll be okay soon, I promise.”
“Is it a loveproblem?”
Caleb looked takenaback.
“I wasyoung once, too.” His mom smiled knowingly as she sat on the edgeof his bed. “I never told you this, but when I was sixteen, I had aboyfriend. Kept him a secret, because yourlola was verystrict. One day, he broke my heart.” She smiled and shrugged,creating creases on the tailored shoulders of her uniform. “When aboy whom you thought would be yours forever told you that he wasn’tin love with you anymore, it’s hard to keep your heartbreak asecret. I couldn’t get up in the morning to go to school. Couldn’teat for days. My eyes were red from crying. Yourlola thought I waspregnant and wanted to bring me to a doctor!” She laughed. “So Iconfessed everything. Since then, your Tito Roger would fetch meafter dismissal to make sure I went home directly fromschool.”
She cocked her head to theside. “You’ve been sneaking out, haven’t you? I told you I’m okaywith you having a girlfriend. What I’m not okay with is you keepingit a secret.” She sighed. “Is it Tara? I haven’t seen her since youwent to that concert.”
Tara, Caleb thought. Oh, how near yet so far she was from thetruth.
“She’s a bit too chattyfor my taste,” his mom continued. “But she seems niceenough.”
When Caleb didn’t reply,her eyes grew wide in dismay. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me it’s Ginny.You can’t possibly—oh, Caleb . . .”
The irritation shotthrough his veins. “Why are you always on Ginny’s case? Tara talkseven more than her, and she got your stamp of approval.” His voicedropped. “You have no idea how good a friend Ginny is to me, Ma.”He shook his head. “No idea.”
After heartbeats ofsilence, his mom spoke up, “You’re right. I have no idea. But howwould I know, Caleb? You never talk to me anymore.” She bowed herhead. “I know that when your dad left, I couldn’t be there for youall the time. It hurt that I had to work and spend so much timeaway from you. And I felt it—that something changed between us.Then before I knew it, here you are, all grown up and so far awayfrom me.” She lifted her eyes to Caleb, smiling sadly. “But I wantyou to know that I’ll always be here for you. You and I—we’re ateam, remember? You can tell me what’s making you sad.”
A battle raged insideCaleb. Could his mom really handle his truth? He was tired. So verytired. Being with Franco had broken the wall he had carefully builtand strengthened over the years. And now, looking at his mom’s eyesfilled with gentleness made him want to finally give up theburden.
“Do you mean that, Ma?” Heasked, his voice heavy. “About us, being a team no matterwhat?”
His mom threw him aninquiring gaze. “Of course, mahal.I won’t let anything come between us.”
Caleb felt the spark ofhope in his chest, coupled with the furious beating of his heart.“Ma . . .”
His mom leaned closer,ready to catch his words.
It was now or never. Calebreleased his breath. “I’m gay.”
His mom recoiled, aconfused smile on her face. “What?”
He laid his hand on herarm, hoping to ground her to the moment. “I’m gay,” he repeated.“Gay . . . which means I can never be in love with Tara. Or Ginny.”He looked
