But his dad had needed hismom, too. Needed her listen to his stories and laugh at his jokes.Needed her to squeeze his hand, and rub his back when they werestuck in traffic. Caleb had accepted that when his dad was around,he had to share his mom.
When they got to the beach,Caleb would marvel at the endless stretch of sea. He would face theshimmering blue and stretch his arms to the sides, imagining thathe was cradling the vast water. Standing still, he held this armfulof happiness, careful not to spill a drop.
But this kind of happinessdid not last long. Time would assert its authority, and soon hisdad would be running around the house like a headless chicken,packing his things before he left for Qatar. The metronome,forgotten the past weeks, ticked loudly, reminding Caleb that itwould take another two years before he would see his dad again. Inthe meantime, he would have to make do with the scheduled phonecalls, video conversations, and shipped boxes—bits and pieces ofthe real thing.
When Caleb turned eleven,on the year the metronome told him that it was time, once again,for his dad to come home, the happiness Caleb had been nurturinghad completely slipped from his grasp.
It was the year that hefound out that his dad wasn’t the magical creature Caleb thought hewas. His dad, like the rest of them, was an imperfect humanbeing.
* * *
Heat was a monster he hadto fight to keep it from eating him whole.
Caleb was having lunch inan indoor carinderia with poor ventilation, right beside the university’s shoppingcomplex. Mashing his cup-molded rice with a fork, Caleb eyed theribbon of steam rising from bowl of his pork sinigang. It didn’t make sense toingest more heat in this heat, but in his hunger, he was willing toforego logic.
As he wolfed down hisfood, he leafed through the clear pages the folder he’d justbought, now filled with music sheets photocopied from the musicdepartment. It was too early to panic over the one-on-one sessionwith Scare-reon,but Caleb had vowed not to mess up the opportunity. The next timehe played for his teacher, Caleb would impress him with a difficultpiece rehearsed a thousand times over.
As Caleb scanned thenotes, his metronome ticked to the beat of another complicatedMozart piece. Soon, everything else melted away, and he was lost inthe music. In his head, he was playing the music with hismovements: slurping the broth, scraping the rice off the plate,munching on the vegetables. He saw his fingers fluttering acrossthe keys, right foot pressing alternately on the pedals, headsnapping down with every chord change. He saw how he played thelast bar of the piece, the final note hovering in the air likefairy dust. Across him, Scare-reon would shoot up from hisseat, eyes shining with awe and approval, and say—
“Hey, you!”
Caleb nearly dropped hisfork.
“Funny bumping into youhere!”
It felt like his uppereyelids had gotten stuck to his eyebrows. Tara was right in frontof him, slowly descending to his eye level as she took the seatacross him. She smiled at the spot below his neck.
“I love that. Reminds me ofsunset in Boracay.”
His fingers flew to histangerine bowtie. “Thanks. I got it because it reminded me ofCheetos.”
That set off her tinklinglaugh. “We don’t usually eat here, but Franco had to buy somethingnext door.” Tara waved to someone behind Caleb.
Caleb didn’t have to resistthe urge to turn his head. At the mere mention of Franco’s name,his whole body had stiffened. The footsteps behind him increased involume, until they halted.
“So we’re eatinghere?”
A low, smoky voice snakedinto his right eardrum, causing a rapid pounding of bass, snare andcymbal in his chest. Caleb knew that timbre of voice so well; ithad taken him only a night of YouTube to memorize it.
“It looks fine.”
The unfamiliar second voicesounded like a wrong note that ruined the harmony. Caleb turned hishead.
The shape he had seenlooming by his elbow was not just one, but two. Franco had his armwrapped around Drew’s waist, making them look like twins conjoinedat the hip. Both were wearing identical shirts printed with ascary-looking alien, its eyes glittering with malice. On thecontrary, the look that passed between the couple was puretenderness. Caleb jerked his head away, partly in embarrassment,mostly in agony.
“Guys, this is Caleb.Caleb, meet Franco and Drew.” Tara smirked. “Oh, I forgot. You’vealready met Drew.”
Drew tore his gaze fromFranco to give Caleb a puzzled smile. “I don’t thinkso?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “Iintroduced you guys last Friday at open-mic night.” She shot Drew aknowing look. “But that was pre-reconciliation with Franco. Yourmind was light years away then.”
Drew blushed while Francoplanted a kiss on his cheek. Instinctively, Caleb looked around tosee if people were watching them. To his relief, theyweren’t.
Franco untwined his handfrom Drew’s waist and offered it to Caleb. “Nice to meet you,Caleb. So you were there last Friday? What did you think about theperformances?”
There was no time to reactto their brief palm-to-palm contact as Caleb struggled to formcoherent sentences. “They were great! I had no idea spoken word wasthis huge thing. It was…great!”
He mentally kickedhimself. Great going, moron.
As Drew drifted toward thecounter where the dishes were displayed, Franco pulled up the chairbeside Tara and sat down. “You should come again to the nextperformance.”
“Or better yet, joinWordplay!” chimed in Tara.
Caleb cast his eyes down,discovering that his plate looked like it had been ravaged by atyphoon. Bits of food were scattered across the bright orangeplastic, broth spilling off its edges. Cheeks burning, he startedforking the mess into a neat pile. “I’m not any good in writingpoetry,” he managed to say.
“But that’s exactly themisconception we want to shatter.”
When Franco spoke in thatearnest tone, it was impossible for Caleb not to meet hisgaze.
“Two years ago, the threeof us watched our first spoken word performance. It blew us away.We realized that we’d been brainwashed into thinking that poetrycould be written by only a chosen few, and that the rest of uscould only sit back and appreciate it.” Franco leaned forward andCaleb could see that his eyes, dark as roasted coffee beans,
