#honestly gives him the maternal air his patients would expect

[fauvester]

julian wondering whether cardassian reserve is inbuilt or learned. then baby idan demands to be held and kissed every single second even when he's too heavy to lift

[wiym]

MY BIRTH STORY

Trigger warning/s: Birth trauma and postnatal mood disorders

Less than a quarter of healthy, low risk, first time parents will have a normal birth in an Australian hospital. With the recent release of Birth Time: the documentary in Australia and New Zealand, I felt that revisiting my birth story was timely.

It’s a clichéd adage but it’s true: for me, the birth plan went well and truly out the window. In fact, it was never let into the building.

EST. READING TIME: 5 minutes

In my early twenties, I used to avoid making eye contact with the family planning section at the chemist. These days I have an emergency stash of tests in my bedside drawer. I’m not even late - my period tracker says it’s due today - but I have a nagging feeling that won’t go away.

I pee on the stick, and there’s only one line. Oh well. I shrug, insouciant, throw out the test and go about my day.

Until four in the afternoon, when I sit bolt upright on the couch and realise that I, generally a rule follower, hadn’t waited for that result. In fact, the box tells you to wait five minutes. So much for sitting on the couch with an egg timer.

 I dig through the bin and in my shaking hands is a positive pregnancy test (note: those trying to conceive affectionately refer to this as a BFP). I test again, and again. I can’t wait, I race in my car to Victoria Park where my boyfriend of two years is working, with three BFPs sitting in the cup holder.

And so begins the uncontrollable for the Type A control freak.

In a pandemic, there are already things I can’t control. I’m redeployed to a different unit at my work and can no longer take potential COVID patients.

I’m anxious, exhausted and most of all - experiencing morning sickness that will turn into hyperemesis. Then, I have to take extended time off work.

As I do with most things, I jump straight into the deep end of pregnancy world and obsessively research. I avoid the foods you’re meant to avoid, and I buy all of the pre-baby accoutrements. Birthing ball, new yoga mat (and maternity yoga pants to boot), and the books. Oh my god, the books.

I do the hypnobirthing classes and listen to birthing stories while hiking with my dogs.

Being pregnant is simultaneously my new persona and hobby. I honestly still wouldn’t change a thing now, in spite of what I know, because even through vomiting for 7, nearly 8, months; I love being pregnant with all my heart.

I neatly type up a birth plan, beautifully formatted and fonted. Natural, natural, natural. No episiotomy. No pain relief. Don’t even offer it to me - I’ll ask. No interventions unless necessary. Delayed cord clamping. Immediate skin to skin. Quiet, low lighting, music. To me, this was a covenant between myself and the computer. Absolute, resolute and set in stone.

By the third trimester my partner and I have the hospital bag meticulously packed, nursery ready, and the big waiting game to do. Eager for our little family to be complete.

At my 38 week appointment, our obstetrician informs us that baby isn’t showing any signs of coming any time soon. I take that as a challenge and research a litany of labour-inducing old wives’ tales.

PSA: none of these actually work. If you are healthy with no complications, your baby will come when ready. Don’t rush. Even when you feel as if you can’t possibly be pregnant for single millisecond more. Your baby isn’t term until 40 weeks.

But here’s the kicker; the impending threat of an induction and/or caesarean looms overhead. I’m told I am a small girl. He appears to be a big baby. His head isn’t engaged at all. And that the clock is ticking.

Now I wonder what might have happened had that idea never been put into my head. If I had been given the space to accept my birth as it would come. Real birth. Normalised.

The pitfalls don’t just lie with mainstream media. You are being sold something. The expensive classes will tell you that having a natural birth without medication is possible, if you buy our book. The private obstetrician will tell you that you need an induction, an epidural, a caesarean; pay us.

At 39 weeks, the Friday before Christmas, my baby is showing signs of coming. What follows is 9 days of latent, or prodromal, or pre, or (my least favourite term) false labour.

On the Monday we go into hospital. With contractions 3 minutes apart, we are told my cervix and uterus aren’t agreeing. Simply put: head isn’t engaging, cervix isn’t dilating. And that I’ll know it when I’m in real labour.

During the week that follows I try exercises from Spinning Babies to get some relief from the round the clock contractions, Jack gives me massages and on one night I even give a glass of red wine and a bubble bath a go.

Websites that want to sell me something tell me that it’s because I’m too stressed for the labour to progress. Try our tea. 

Why are we capitalising on something so sacred as birth?

 I walk with one foot on the curb and one foot on the path - and I do this for kilometres. Through King’s Park in 30-degree heat. Along the coast. Around the neighbourhood.

On Christmas Eve, I can’t sleep, speak or move through the contractions and we wait as long as possible. We camp on the fold out bed in the living room (those without air conditioning throughout improvise), the birthing playlist quietly crooning and candles burning. I do my breathing and mantras; relax, relax, relaaaaax. And the contractions stop as abruptly as they started, 20 hours later.

I cry. Low keening, animalistic sobbing. I don’t understand what is happening to me. I don’t feel confident in making the choice whether or not to go to the hospital anymore.

They tell you the hospital is the safest place to birth and in the same breath tell you to avoid the hospital unless you’re damn near crowning.

I’m new to this. It’s my first time. I feel scared, unsupported and alone. I’m in so much pain.

I just want to meet my baby.

 Barely two days later, I shake Jack awake. I’ve got a Miss Clavel feeling. Something is not right. Instinctively I know that after nine days of exhausting labour that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, I will be too tired to push.

I call the hospital and ask if I can come in.

Have you just had enough? A voice asks on the other end.

So I don’t take the Panadol or the shower or the bath. We roll into the birthing unit and I’m put on the monitor. Like the High Striker at a fairground, I get the sense that the rolling peaks on the screen need to reach acceptable heights before I’m taken seriously.

The midwife is watching for decelerations, which don’t happen, but also doesn’t see any accelerations. My baby is tired, and I don’t blame him.

And then I am asked the question.

What do you want to get out of being in hospital today? Do you want to have your baby?

I nod, because yes. So comes the new plan. Break my waters and start the syntocin drip tomorrow. Temazepam and Panadeine Forte tonight. So quickly everything I imagined for my birth is going out the window, but I’m desperate.

The next morning we waddle into the birthing suites to start my induction bright and early. I feel robbed of the moment my waters break as it is cracked with something that looks like a crochet hook on a glove. With a gush and then a steady trickle, all the amniotic fluid keeping my baby safe and sound floods out. My obstetrician tells me it’s meconium stained, the paediatric RN in me fleetingly panics. But it is all systems go. I race from active labour to transition. I can only focus on the contractions.

I want my mum.

I’m offered the epidural I’d refused the day prior again but I shake my head. Not in the birth plan. Gas and air only, please. I end up screaming into the Entonox mouthpiece every 2 minutes and throw up all over myself before I allow myself the grace of an epidural. Which only works for about fifteen minutes before I’m once again writhing and screaming, one leg ice numb but the rest of me on fire. Intense pressure between my legs, the urge to push. But it’s only been a couple hours.

My mum arrives in the hospital. On the birth plan, she was meant to be waiting outside. She stands near me now, in the birthing suite.

I’m making noises I am not proud of and inform my midwife of my need to push. Oh, it’s too soon? Pardon me. Before the midwife’s assessment I steel myself to be told I am nowhere near, after a week of disappointment and being nowhere near.

Oh. You’re having a baby.

I ask if we need to wait for the doctor when she tells me she’s calling my obstetrician.

No, she laughs. You don’t have to wait.

With my knees to my chest, I’m told to stop pushing and so I stop. Afterwards, my partner tells me that our son was getting distressed despite my best efforts to get him out and the obstetrician was pulling back on the cord that was tight around his neck. And my poor tired baby’s heart rate drops dangerously. I’m given a deadline to push him out, but I can’t and I’m given the episiotomy I had expressly verboten on my birth plan. He is vacuum assisted out. He is safe.

I’m handed a small, beanlike baby covered in blood and vernix. I kiss him and end up with blood on my face. He doesn’t cry.

He’s taken off my chest and it feels like the longest pause before he lets out the best scream I’ve ever heard.

My mum looks at me. He’s beautiful, she mouths. Is he okay? He’s okay.

My partner cuts the cord. No delayed cord clamping, breathing is more important. Oliver is soon enough placed back onto my chest.

And he is beautiful.

What starts days later as the baby blues progresses into postnatal depression and anxiety. It took me a long time to accept what happened was birth trauma. That my birth story is ridiculously common, even amongst my group of friends, and that’s not due to our failure as the birthing parent. I can’t tell you how long I felt I only had myself to blame for having false expectations. And how much value I put into my ability to birth the “right” way as a direct translation of my ability to mother. How I felt that my son’s birth complications were my fault (it wasn’t). Too many Australian birthing parents are made to feel this way.

So I write this birth story once more, and I let go of what happened for my own sake. I didn’t fail. My son is beautiful, and worth every second of the agony it took to get him here.

A previous version of this post was published on my friend’s blog Mummy Neutral as ‘Type A and the Uncontrollable Pre-Labour’ in January 2021.

Please check her blog out as she posts some really raw and beautiful insights into pregnancy, birth and motherhood.

If you’re feeling distressed about anything discussed or about your own birth experience, please click the life ring symbol at the top of my blog for some helpful links. Call Lifeline on 13 11 14 if you need immediate assistance.

Birth Time: the documentary is showing in select cinemas now. You can visit the website to find out more and if you have birthed in Australia in the last 5 years, you can complete a survey about your experience.

[talesmaniac89]

Walkies With ‘Ette

Summary: Dad!Crowley & Daughter!Reader - Crowley comes home from his king duties early and takes his five-year-old daughter out for a walk.

Word Count: 2709

Triggers: None, just father/daughter fluff

Y/N = Your name ¦ Y/E/C = Your eye colour ¦ Y/H/C = Your hair colour

Note: Another one shot with the father/daughter duo! All these fluffy stories can be read separately from each other or together. Just fluff, no strict story-line here guys! I have one or two more of these dad/daughter one shots planned as well, but I’d love more ideas, so do let me know if you have any moments you want to see dad Crowley in with his five-year-old!

Other stories with the duo: Fatherhood, Disney Movie Madness, Tea Party Playtime and Good Night Princess

---

Crowley could go basically anywhere with just a snap of his fingers. That was one of the perks of being a demon, and the king of hell. 

No need to rely on transportation or even walk anywhere if he didn’t feel like it. Yet, over the last few years, as the little bundle of joy that quickly had become his world went from crawling, to walking and then onto running, he’d started to appreciate the more human methods of getting around, like walks to absolutely nowhere.

Of course, poor Juliet, the hellhound, turned stork, turned nanny who had brought the little princess back to hell after harvesting the soul of her good for nothing mother, was also a very important part of the princess’ walks. Since his little girl’s favourite pastime, except for playing pretend and drawing, had become their weekly walks with Juliet in the woods.

Of course they couldn’t just go anywhere. Since Crowley feared what could happen if anyone outside of his circle of most trusted advisors learned about his adopted daughter, their walks had to be in small, protected areas. But to his little girl, whose small hands could barely hold the specially made leash that he knew the hellhound hated, those walks were her favourite time of the week. And, honestly, those moments spent outside with his little princess were some of Crowley’s most treasured moments too.

Bearing the title of father with more pride than he did his crown as the king of hell, Crowley really wanted to make her favourite little walks happen as often as possible. And he really did try to take the little chipmunk outside several times in a week. Knowing full well how the little girl would go stir crazy if made to stay inside in Crowley’s private slice of hell for too long.

Yet, as it often went for the princesses in the stories, it wasn’t safe out there for her, and as the ruler of hell, Crowley often ended up with too much on his plate to take her out to walk Juliet before her bedtime. Of course he still made sure he had the evenings free to spend time with his princess, but alas there was just not enough hours in the day to always go for walks. 

Luckily, that specific day he had been able to finish things off early. Only having a few souls to rearrange before being able to escape the rest of the bureaucracy of hell and the clerical soul administration to spend time with hell’s own little secret princess.

Opening the door to the home he shared with his daughter in his private slice of hell, Crowley loosened his tie as he smiled into the bright rooms that contrasted with the darker colours of the rest of hell. As they should… His little girl deserved heaven, even if he himself would never be able to go there. Unless of course, there was a hostile takeover. But he had years to think of that. For now he just wanted to spend an afternoon out in the sun with his princess.

“Where’s my little chipmunk?” Crowley called out as he carefully closed the door behind him, leaving his responsibilities and the dark scowl he’d worn all day by the door as they were replaced with soft eyes and warm smiles. Listening carefully Crowley could already her tiny little feet hurrying out to greet him as he took a few more steps forward, his heart bursting from the sound of her happy squeal as she came running, followed by Juliet.

“Daddy’s hoooome!” Her happy little laugh only made Crowley’s smile brighten, not even bothering to hide the happy smile from the demon showing up in the doorway. 

She was the only one who knew that side of him due to her taking care of the little ray of sunshine whilst Crowley worked. She was loyal and trustworthy, and the demon knew better than to speak of it anyway. Crowley was a man of contracts, and hers was iron-tight. Even trying to speak of it to outsiders would cause her immense pain.

“That he is pet” Crowley laughed as he crouched and let his little girl run into his arms giving him as big of a hug as her small little arms possibly could whilst Crowley lifted her into the air and swung her around. Teasing a series of small happy laughs out of her as she let her (Y/H/C) hair swing behind her when she bent her back and let her head fall back to look at the spinning hallway upside down.

Whilst his little princess was busy watching the room spin, Crowley quickly wiped the smile from his lips and nodded to the babysitter before returning his full focus to his little girl. Normally she would leave through the backdoor as soon as he arrived, but he was earlier than planned that day. Not that he cared. No, what mattered was more time with his princess.

“Daddy’s early today. Haven’t had ‘unch,” The tiny human in his arms said as she threw her arms around his neck and leaned back to look him into his eyes after placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Daddy just missed his little princess too much,” Crowley said with a chuckle. In the world of a five-year-old time was based on breakfast, lunch, dinner and bedtime and more times than not he wished he could spend every second of that time with her. However hell didn’t rule itself.

“I missed you too daddy!” His little girl squealed happily as Crowley swung her around so that she was holding onto his waist from the side like a little monkey whilst he walked into the colorful living room, chuckling towards the Disney movie left playing on the TV.

“Since it’s before lunch, what do you want to do today pet?” Crowley asked as he placed the small girl back on the floor to remove his suit jacket and tie. As if he was shredding the status of king to don the one of the little one’s father instead. Of course, Crowley knew what the answer would most likely be and as he watched the hellhound lie down next to the little girl he could tell that Juliet knew as well. 

“Walkies with ‘Ette!” The little girl said the words like they were a celebratory cheer. Jumping up and down and making her slightly messy locks bounce right along with her. Just as he’d expected, he wouldn’t be home long before heading into the forest with the cheeky little chipmunk.

---

After less than an hour they were in the woods through Crowley’s private portal made especially for those father daughter walks. Having only stopped to change into something less restrictive than his suit and finding something the little adorably spoiled princess could easily run and play in from her large closet. 

With a picnic blanket in the crook of his arm, her tiny hand in his and a small Elsa themed backpack in the other the small family soon found themselves surrounded by nothing but trees and nature as the little girl hummed her own little ‘Walkies song’ from where she was holding onto Juliet’s leash.

“Walkies, walkies, we’re gonna go for walkies!” She sing-songed, bouncing up and down as she waited for the forest to fully come into view past the wooden cabin door.

As soon as they stepped through the door of the little privately owned cabin and into the forest her small hand slipped from his as she started walking. Already knowing where she was going since she had a favourite spot in the woods for their picnic lunches. It was where the fairies lived, she’d told him once. And ever since then that had been their destination on all of these walks.

It looked kind of humorous, the tiny girl walking the much, much bigger dog on a leash. A hellhound that was of course completely invisible to humans, yet somehow his little girl seemed to always know where she was. If the big hound took off running the tiny princess wouldn’t be able to stop her, but Crowley didn’t really worry about anything of the sort happening.

No, (Y/N) had awakened a maternal instinct in the hellhound, so when the princess was the one holding the leash she was more well-behaved than a showroom dog. Letting his princess lead the way the king kept a relaxed pace, only reaching out from time to time to keep the little human child from falling over a rock hidden in the underbrush, or to correct the direction she was walking in.

Crowley had always been a born leader, but when it came to his little chipmunk, the tiniest princess of hell, he didn’t mind being the one who followed.

“Keep up daddy!” His little princess called out with a laugh from a little ahead of him, pulling Crowley out of his warm thoughts and making him speed up a little. Sure, Juliet would keep the child safe, but just because he was the king of hell, a man often called heartless, that didn’t mean he didn’t panic from the thought of scraped knees and tears in those big (Y/E/C) eyes like any normal father would.

“Wait for daddy pet,” Crowley called out as he hurried after her, careful not to jostle the tiny backpack in his hand too much, and ruining the small lunch for his girl that he’d carefully prepared before they left. When he had the time he preferred doing the cooking for her himself. The little girl’s happy smiles whilst eating just meant much more to him that way.

Her little cheeky laugh mixed with the light rustling of leaves above them as she continued skipping down the path. Her little steps exited and happy as she almost bounced up and down with endless energy as Juliet walked patiently next to her, matching the pace of her big paws with the little girl’s smaller steps.

“Hurry daddy, the fairies!” She called out, bouncing with her words and pointing her tiny free hand towards the clearing that was coming into view. The sound of her voice sweeter than the birdsong coming from birds hidden in the trees above them on the small path in the woods.

Smiling, Crowley sped up, easily catching up to the hyper little girl with steps much longer than her small ones as she kept walking towards her fairy clearing. Looking so much like the main character in a fairy tale with the light shining through the leaves of the trees above her catching in her (Y/H/C) hair and making her look like a small fairy princess.

“We’re heeeere!” Her little voice called out, probably scaring a few rabbits somewhere in the outskirts of the clearing with her clear, happy voice as she called out to the fairies in her mind, Her happy tone was clearly an attempt of mimicking Crowley’s voice when he called out to let his little girl he was home. “Daddy, tell the fairies we’re here,” She said with a whisper that was as loud as her usual voice, still not mastering the art of whispering.

“Hello fairies, we’re here again,” Crowley called out, not bothering about silly things like image or embarrassment when his little girl wanted him to play along. Ah, he couldn’t even count how many people would choke on their laughter if they heard the ruler of hell greet fairies, yet he didn’t care. Because his little girl didn’t laugh at him, no, instead he was rewarded with a proud smile as she skipped into the clearing, like a little fairy joining her friends in a field of flowers.

“‘Ette! Fetch!” She called out to the hellhound that had stopped patiently by Crowley to let him remove the leash from around her neck now that the littlest princess had let go of it to run into the sun kissed clearing. Quickly removing the leash Crowley chuckled warmly as he watched his girl lift a small stick up into the air and throwing it for Juliet to catch. Her small arms not strong enough to throw the stick more than two feet or so since her throw was more downward than forward. Yet Juliet, like Crowley, obeyed and played along when the words came from the girl that was the center of both their worlds.

Watching as his little girl threw the stick with varying degrees of success Crowley smiled as the sight of the hellhound playing as if it was a puppy. His princess’ laughter warming his heart more than the sunshine that was streaming from the blue sky above them as Juliet pretended to not let go of the stick. The hound acting slower and weaker than the apex predator it really was as she played with the tiny human child while Crowley readied the picnic blanket and the princess’ special little picnic lunch. Allowing himself a little use of his power to bring a few of her toys and a few extra pieces of food that hadn’t fit in the small backpack from their home with a snap of his fingers.

Once everything was set up, a handful of her teddy bear and doll friends ready and seated in attendance, Crowley looked back up to where the small wonderful girl had given up on the stick to run around playing tag with the hound that constantly let the small spoiled and loved princess win.

Choosing to go over to her instead of calling out, Crowley once more relied on only his own legs as he walked across the bright green clearing until his little ball of energy was right in front of him. Running in happy little circles whilst humming songs. Her little feet hurrying over the grass at such speeds that it left her barely touching the grass below her blue sneakers.

“Lunch time for little chipmunks,” Crowley said with a warm laugh as he reached out and caught her. Swinging her in a half circle before holding her close with a tickle and a raspberry blow into the side of her neck to tease more tiny laughs out of her.

“‘Unch after! Play tag with me daddy,” The cheeky chipmunk said, big puppy dog eyes looking up at Crowley as she used her ultimate weapon to once more twist her father around her tiny little finger. And it would have worked as well, if that small little tummy hadn’t betrayed her with a small rumble that teased a chuckle out of the demon.

“Your belly wants food you cheeky little devil,” Crowley said, carrying his world in his arms over to the little picnic he’d set out as she tried to convince him that the belly rumble actually came from the hellhound that trailed behind them whilst they walked across the clearing. Her little explanation trailing off into a happy squeal as she saw all the goodies he packed and her little toys sitting, ready for an impromptu Alice in Wonderland tea party.

“Pup!” She laughed, wiggling out of her daddy’s arms to go running towards the blanket and the toys. Already making up a new story and turning the small picnic lunch into a fairy themed dinner party.

The game of tag momentarily forgotten, she munched on a small sandwich whilst telling her toys and her dad the story they were currently a part of. Sure, he knew as soon as she was done eating he would be chasing her around the field in a game of tag. Constantly worrying about scraped knees as she ran as fast as her little legs could carry her. But in that moment, there was no need to hurry to get anywhere else but that sunlit clearing that warmed both the skin and the heart with its soft light.

Smiling, Crowley took a seat on the blanket. And as he sat there, enjoying a motionless moment, he felt human. He felt like walking, endlessly, without any goal in mind. Stopping to look for fairies, pick flowers for flower crowns or play tag. Just taking one step at a time, no matter what was happening by the next clearing.

He could walk forever, as long as his little girl’s hand was in his and she was leading the way.

Please do let me know if you wish to be removed from the tag list

Tags:  @auszimbo @upon-a-girl @gallifreyansass @mogaruke @skybinx-blog @delisp @jensen-jarpad  @supernatural-jackles  @27bmm  @just-another-busy-fangirl @ecsj @deathtonormalcy56 @imboredsueme @itsthesamegametoday  @riversong-sam  @dslocum89 @authoressskr @spooookyscary  @winchesterbrothersforever @maydayfigment @ria132love

Tagging a few Crowley peeps I know this time too, to keep that shameless streak going: @roxy-davenport​ @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll​ @scheherazades-horcrux​, @ajacentlee​, @chelsea072498​ @annabellerosemasters​ @alangel1895​

[docjanefoster]

gossip.

“A woman in trauma? No one has even considered a thing.” A nurse said, decked out entirely of pink, proud of her position in the hospital. If a doctor were a female, she automatically fell under the categories of either Pediatrics, Genitourinary medicine, Gynecology, or the many maternity departments. All easy, womanly fields of medicine. All places Jane was sure to avoid as much as possible. Pink’s and purple’s never were her colors. Plus, she would be the only one wearing a set without obvious wrinkles from ever so classy wrestling in the supply closets.

“Please, she won’t last a day. I heard the bitch even turned down Doctor Walker’s advances.” Another nasal, high pitched voice chimed in as the members of the clique ate their lunches. “She must be loony, Sherry!” The other nurse added in shock, hands up in the air for emphasis. Doctor Walker was the man for any woman with a preference for dark chocolate and a mighty ego. He was a neuro surgeon, who could blame him? Only the ladies who did not think with their libido could tell he possessed enough brain cells to count on one hand. His preference included thinking with the other head. Falling head over heels for the dick with legs certainly did not settle on her list of priorities. Jane preferred tending to her work over sleeping her way through the ranks to achieve popularity and it clearly was not on her friend’s, either.

Groaning rumbled from the body across the table. “They’re seriously right there, Janie. Acting like we /can’t hear them/.” Leon commented, raising his voice ever so slightly to troll with the gossiping nurses. The bottle blonde staff had nothing on the duo’s success as true doctors in the facility. Jane was a highly skilled trauma surgeon while he was one of the day shift anesthetists. Unfortunately, his sexuality sparked seclusion by the majority of the staff, leaving the man to himself and to his work. On the other hand, one could say Jane’s lack of sexual preferences hindered her opportunities to socialize. So, naturally the outcasts took company in one another with each acting as the other’s anchor from ripping all their coworkers a new one like they deserved.

Shrugging her shoulders, Jane slumped back into her chair. “I don’t know where they find all that time to day dream and to suck dick. Honestly, I barely have enough to my day to do anything other than work, eat, and sometimes sleep.” The doctor commented as venom dripped slowly and calculated from every word. Was popularity truly worth all the work and the hype? Surely the blondes grew tired of sleeping around, fixing their scrubs, refusing to allow their eyes to blink from staring at men, and putting down others who did nothing to them. How could someone yearn to fill their daily schedule with such vile and rude actions? They were selfish, that’s how.

Leon leaned ever so closer to his partner in crime. “I heard Whitney over there,” A single thumb gestured to their left at the raven haired psychiatric PA as he spoke. “skipped her shift the other day to go off pining for the attention of attendings. Let’s just say her efforts amounted to nothing when Chief found out. Not a single man tried saving her from the repercussions. Apparently, she even played it off that she was a nurse to Wyatt, one of the new interns.” The man slowly shook his head as a smirk pulled at the corners of his lips. “Of course, the kid fell for it, ya know? New bodies to keep the cycle going in this hell hole.”

Her coworker’s complaints were not alone as Jane shared his opinions with every once of her soul. The environment mirrored times in high school as if the staff never grew up and wished to relive the glory days, or the workers wanted to create their own glory days they were robbed of in their teen years. In this society, people are known to stay with their groups they’ve had since the beginning of the hospital. The building was fairly new compared to other medical facilities in town, but the cliques and rivalries ran old and ran strong. Snagging a position in NYB Medical Center was an event along the lines of a miracle. Its staff rarely branches out unless a current worker can vouch for the newbie. Everyone flowed in directly from Columbia University, leaving little to no room for a variety.

One would believe once they got the job, the hard work was over, wrong. If a newly hired employee was not a legacy, there were two options: sleep your way to the top or continue to waste away at the bottom. Humans are social creatures who naturally crave the attention and the feeling of belonging. Greedy, vile people walked the halls in wait of a crack in the structure to slither in for the kill. Some people did not care to be snakes in the grass and simply let everyone know of their intentions. A tactic of bluntness to scare off any weak threats. Only the people lacking fucks to give survive the shit talking and the harassment. When someone new comes into the perfect little world they control, the threat must be eliminated immediately.

Jane’s appearance at NYP Medical Center rather than another New York hospital was solely caused by the high recommendation from Columbia’s dean. NYP could not turn down her application even if it wanted, so there she sat on the side lines dodging any and all bullshit. Not much time had passed before the staff quickly realized its new trauma doctor was in no way interested in sleeping with the superiors. This choice brought hell and fury down upon her. Fortunately, Jane had completed her internship and her residency in another facility, or she would have gone completely crazy from initial advancements and expectations. Of all the men, one approached her rather than believing she should do the hard work and inflate the other’s ego even more than it already stood.

His name was Brian Greggory, the hospital’s largest investor, and Jane had received pure hatred for turning him down. Luckily, the man still decided to contribute to the facility’s finances. Who would not when women practically fell on their faces for the guy? He believed only a fool would turn the chance down and a bigger fool to turn him down. His ever inflated ego had taken a hit, for sure, but he still wandered the halls from time to time, filling open legs and glaring at Jane’s closed ones. The woman did not believe in sinking so low and she would continue to stand firm against the burning despise.

Fortunately, Jane’s stance was not a lonely position. Over the weeks, she had befriended the shy, quiet souls floating around the halls and living their lives under the radar. Dottie worked among the shelves of medication in the pharmacy downstairs, a level above the morgue. A soft featured and soft spoken woman who was not even given the time of day after she had been harassed into sleeping with Brian. Apparently, one time was enough for him because his actions blurred the lines of rape. Rather than fucking the poor woman further, he threatened to fire her if she said anything to her superiors about the incident.

After Jane heard word of this, she made it her mission to befriend the woman. To be violated and to be harassed even further, Jane presented herself ready to take on anyone who called Dottie a slut, a whore, or anything of the nature. Men were not used to Foster’s no bullshit attitude and it completely threw them for a loop. In response to their wounded egos, titles were thrown out left and right, anything to place Jane in the bad eye of the public. Sadly, for them, she did not give a damn what everyone thought of her. She was a doctor in a hospital, not a child in a playpen. It is an environment for adults to work and to fulfill their purpose, not a place for immature kids to call each other names. Jane is an educated woman and that fact scared her male superiors. The thought nauseated the men employees, a female reaching their level? Skills in which she could quite easily surpass them? How ridiculous and how threatening.

That’s reality.

Glancing across the cafeteria, Jane’s nonchalant look turned to one of disgust. How low will people fall for the approval of others? Obviously too far. Before Jane could reply, a thunderous boom echoed throughout the room. Her head shot to the ceiling in an effort to figure out what the hell happened. Sneakers squeaked across the white, pristine tile floor, and a familiar, rushed voice followed as the owner reached Jane’s table. “Doctor Foster, you’re needed in the emergency room. It seems as if Timothy escaped his restraints again! Please hurry, the staff’s in pretty bad shape. Security is scouring the facility for him somewhere in the air ducts.”

Amy Addison, head nurse of the ER, gave Jane no time, instead taking off from the direction she came from. Sending Leon an apologetic look for cutting their precious lunchtime short, Jane’s head shot over to glare at Whitney. “Way to go. Maybe you should try keeping your patients in hand, hm?” The trauma doctor left without giving the other woman a chance to snap back. This is what Jane lived for, the rush and the ability to help, not the drama. Leon’s gossip and glares of shallow ladies would have to wait. She had work to do.

[emulatingrizal-blog]

Souls don’t stay on intersections: A story of passers-by

SHORT STORY

Marquez, Ma. Kyna T.       2014-10898     Prof. Mangubat

Souls don’t Stay on Intersections: A story of passers by

It was already ten minutes to ten in the evening. The lighted and vivid lights of Taft Avenue remained strong in the eyes of tired Elias. The young man just came from a rally in Mendiola for the commemoration of Martial Law and to fight against tyranny. His throat was dry after a long day of chanting for protests and becoming one of the emcees in the mass action. Cold sweat dripped from his temples to his neck. Elias wiped them off as he picks up his pace to go to his favorite drinking hub before being caught in the rain.

“Tangina pagod na’ko” Elias said as he went to a barely lit small apartment like place. He greeted the guard and went down the stairs. As he took his time on the stairs, he thought of the beer he would be getting for tonight. Tajna, a quiet drinking hub at Vito Cruz, was Elias’ second home. Tajna is Icelandic for secret. Elias loves the place because Tajna stays true to its name. No one barely goes to the place, just a few patrons. Most adolescents and young adults prefer going to raves and party places around Taft area. Elias loved Tajna for it’s quietness and sophistication. Elias needed jazz music, good beer, subtle lighting, and wonderful service. Tajna delivered that. After going in front of the cashier, the bartender already handed out two bottles of Kirin Beer and a bottle of red horse. Elias payed and tipped the bartender immediately. “Thank you, Anton. Chill na ako dito.” Elias said as he surveyed the spacious one floor bar for a place to sit at. Elias chose the same table and seat he always occupies in Tajna. Elias’ favorite place was most private one on the floor, near the air conditioning unit. People barely go there as they hate the weak sound of the machine’s buzzing. Elias was drinking when a woman asked him. “Hello, can I sit here?” The woman was wearing a white long sleeve linen top and jeans. She had a black bralette worn underneath her blouse. Her hair was roughly styled, as oddly as it seems, it made her more stunning. Her 70’s styled converse straddled on the floor occupied by expensive shoes and heels. She’s beautiful Elias thought.

“Yes. Sit here” Elias responded as he pointed to the seat in front of him. The woman sensed Elias does not want to have someone occupy the seat. “I can leave, if you don’t really want someone to sit here.” “Hindi. Okay lang.” The woman gave a small laugh that ended to a weak smile “Are you sure?” “Sige lang.” Elias said as he grabbed a bottle of Kirin beer and drank. “I’m Esme by the way, sorry for disturbing. I prefer to be at this quiet corner than the other tables.” “Elias. Okay lang, I feel the same way.”

Esme’s two red horse bottles and two shots of fine whiskey arrived on the table. Elias drank while carefully stealing glances on Esme. The girl’s cheeks were red, but she still sat up straight. Elias found it funny how she looks like a blushing drunk but remains sober. “What exactly are you looking at, señor?” Esme said as she directs her attention to the two shot glasses of whiskey. “From two bottles of Red Horse to whiskey, grabe. Umiinom ka ba ng whiskey para maging sosyal?” Elias asked with a casual quiet laugh as he was sketching an artful rendition of the social triangle. “No. Fuck sosyal. I drink...” Esme takes a shot and turns the shot glass. “to” “invert that fucking” Esme takes the last shot, and again, turns the shot glass upside down. Esme reached out her hand and inverted the orientation of the tissue paper. Elias was in silence. Esme understood what he was drawing. “unfair triangle” She’s a revolutionary activist, he thought. Before Elias could ask another question, Esme was already leaving after giving a tip to the bartender.

After that night, Elias barely recalled Esme. He was not the kind who gets hung up on women he met at bars and pubs. Elias knew he was good looking, the number of women’s contact information left in his messenger inbox and at Tajna for him were proof. However, love was not really one of Elias’ priorities. Elias’ day went by without even picturing Esme’s face in his mind. One day, Elias was on his way to PGH Science Hall to attend a forum on International Relations between the Philippines and China for his Development Studies major subject. He suddenly then caught glance of Esme. Esme looked tired. Her sweat was literally dripping. She looked equally beautiful without make up as well, Elias thought. She was wearing a loose shirt paired with pants and sneakers as she carried a box of food for the patients of the maternal ward. Elias secretly observed her as she draw smiles among the faces of the patients and their parents. Since then, Elias could not stop thinking about her. Elias rushed out the forum once it was finished. He still caught Esme arranging things inside her car. Esme looked at Elias “I’m going to Tajna”. Elias looked puzzled, shocked, and confused. Normal people would say hi to him first, but this woman was telling him a location. “What?” “I saw you looking at me.” He’s so obvious. This man is a funny one, but he’s definitely different from those men Esme thought. With a nervous tone, Elias mustered up the courage and asked Esme “Do you want to go out?” “9 pm. Let me take a shower and a nap at least.” Esme responded with a soft ridiculing laughter. It was already 9:00 PM. Elias dressed more formal than usual. He was wearing a polo shirt and decent jeans. Is she even going to show up? Tanga, Elias. Bakit ka magugustuhan nun? Baka niloloko ka lang. When Elias was already ready to leave, Esme showed up with black blouse and pants. Esme smiled at Elias “You can stop weirdly staring at me right now. Let’s have our order taken?”. Esme sat at the same spot she did the last time he saw Elias.

Elias was unlike the other men that courted and dated her. Elias is not as rich, but it was obvious that he was a man of dignity and his word. He is intelligent, but is not boastful. However, his facial expression is always brimming with pride when he talks about the country, and the pivotal role of the youth in society. Esme’s knowledge on society and political ideologies were constantly resonated and even questioned by Elias. He was impeccably charming in being himself, self-aware, determined, kind, and humble. He respected Esme as well. He would let her finish talking before replying and did not force her to let him pay the meal. On the other hand, Esme was in stark contrast to the women Elias dated. Esme was not a member of any mass organization. She learned activism and the state of the country alone by attending forums and reading books. She is astoundingly richer than any woman Elias dated. The woman was in the first year of her masters program for International Relations in Dela Salle University. But what sets Esme apart, is how grounded she remains despite her privilege. “People in my world are blinded by their money and power. They’re the type who can stomach passing through streets with poverty stricken families without feeling a hint of pain. I honestly hate it that people from where I from don’t even bat an eyelid on extra judicial killlings. All they care about is the people they care about. And until they have enough money to protect what and those who matter, every remaining thing and life are not top priorities.” Esme said with such dismay. They continued to make time to see each other every week. Eating at fast food chains, eating 100.00 ramen at Malate, and watching movies. Their conversations were about with politics and nationalism. Like Elias, Esme too believed in the power of revolution. The way they thought about things, whether mundane or profound, was the same. Elias loved the way Esme would question him for things she knew and did not. She was liberated, yet she remained a challenge. Her beauty was unique. It was purposeful and strong. For Elias, she was perfect. After a year of dating, September 21, 2018 came. Elias was representing Kabataan Partylist at the major protest against tyranny. Early in the morning, Elias telephoned Esme.

“Can you come to the mobilization? This would be a good choice considering you’ve never participated in rallies. Pwede kang makipakat sa akin kung natatakot ka.” “I’m sorry Eli, I am not feeling well. I’m down with fever. Mag-ingat ka. Text me where you are” “Ganun ba? Sige magpahinga ka na lang. Baka lumala pa icon pakiramdam mo kapag pumunta ka dito.” “Thank you. Please eat a lot before you go to the mobilization, Eli.” “Oo naman. Pahinga ka na, Esme” “Thanks” Elias finished the left over chicken binacol that Esme cooked yesterday for their date night. He also ate twice the amount of rice he normally would. He grabbed the his black bag pack, and realized it was heavier than usual. There was a note attached to it. The note read: Please be careful. I added a water bottle to keep you hydrated, love.-Esme. Elias smiled. I am so lucky to have someone like her. She’s a blessing. he thought. Elias was in the middle of the mass movement at Mendiola. The program went through as planned. Different mass organizations representing various sectors of society performed on stage. A phone call was received by one of the organizers, saying that the president will be at the Manila Hotel to with the Marcos family. A news report was released confirming the text message. The president was to have a conference with the Marcos politicians about the planned development of Vigan as an economic zone. Elias and the people at the rally knew what exactly President Duterte is doing. The man’s generating news to divert people from the heated argument on the extrajudicial killings. The death toll rose to 2320 this month, and a bill implying a 80% budget cut for the commission on human rights was expected to be passed. In general, the public is sensing greater uneasiness compared before. The protestors shifted their route. Elias was one of the front liners holding a megaphone. He was chanting as he walked. “ANG TAO ANG BAYAN” Elias shouted with all his might.

The mob responded “NGAYON AY LUMALABAN” “NGAYON AY LUMALABAN” Elias replied even with a very sore throat “ANG TAO ANG BAYAN” The mob shouted in reply.

As they got near Manila Hotel, the defense of the police was quickly forming. They were trying their best to keep the protesters away from the Manila Hotel premises. The protestors were kept 300 meters away from the main entrance of the hotel. The mob were enraged as luxury cars of politicians drove in front of them. People were shouting insults to the politicians in their automobiles. “Mga buwaya kayo!” “Mga corrupt! Pera ng bayan ang winawaldas ninyo! Hindi ba kayo nahihiya?” “Gago kayong lahat!” Elias too was enraged because of the passion of the crowd. He began to say things about the EJK killings. “Presidente ka Digong! Inihalal ka ng masa para protektahan at paglingkuran sila, hindi ang interes ng mga amerikano at lalong hindi ng mga Marcos. Bayan ang unahin, huwag ang sarili! Mga kababayan, kitang-kita ninyo na hindi na kakampi ng masa ang estadong ating iniluklok sa puwesto. Ang Vigan na pisang cultural heritage site na recognized ng UNESCO, ay gagawing isang economic zone, na tiyak na pagpupugaran ng mga transnational corporations at multinational corporations.

Walang kwenta ang trabahong bigay nito, sapagkat mapaniil sila sa kanilang mga manggagawa. Kulang na sweldo ang benepisyo ang kinakaharap ng mga manggawa. Ang pagawaan ng sigarilyo na pinagmamay-arian ni Congressman Representative Emmanuel Salvadore ay lang beses ng sinampahan ng kast ng mga labor unions sa excessive overtime ng mga manggawa at mailt na kabayaran para sa mga magsasaka ng tabako.

Hanggang ngayon, hindi pa rin pinapamahagi ni Salvadore ang 25 ektarya ng kaniyang luipain sa mga magsasaka niya ng tabako. Dagdag pa rito, umakyat na sa 32 kalalakihan ang pinatay sa Vigan. Lahat sila ay nakapagtrabaho o may kamaganak na naglilingkod sa Hacienda Salvadore. Todo tanga si Salvadore, ngunit hindi tayo bulag mga kasama. Hindi tayo bingi. At mas lalong hindi tayo tanga.  TAMA NA ANG KASINUNGALINGAN. PASISMO SA BANSA AY ITIGIL. PABAGSAKIN, MGA SAKIM. TATSULOK, BALIKTARIN!”

Maira Montoya, Gabriela Youth’s President, and Elias’ classmates shouted. “PABAGSAKIN, MGA SAKIM!”

“TATSULOK BALIKTARIN” The people shouted back.

While the chanting and speeches were happening, Elias was busy observing the politicians stepping out of the cars. He was waiting for Salvadore to arrive. Soon enough, a sleek BMW car drifted in front of them. Elias stood only about 50 meters from the car. He could definitely see that it was Salvadore. Emmanuel Salvadore is a man in his fifties. He was tall and particularly healthy for his age. He had prominent spanish features. Salvadore went to the other side of the vehicle, and opened the door for a woman.

“TATSULOK BALIKTA…” Maira stopped chanting. She felt helpless with what she saw. She could not believe her eyes. Elias had tears in his eyes. They were not falling, instead it was withheld. His hands were clenched in a fist. Elias dropped his megaphone. His legs twitched and felt weak. He fell down. Maira acted quickly, and placed Elias’ head at her neck. Maira set her arms around him. “Elias! Elias! Elias okay ka lang ba?” Maira was asking Elias as she was preventing her tears from falling. Elias stared at towards Salvadore’s car. Maira’s neck could feel the cold beads of sweat forming in Elias’ forehead. Elias’ face was not flushed with blood anymore. It was pale. His whole body went cold. It was as if in a flash he became limp and empty of life.

“Putangina lodi, sumagot ka sa akin. Huminga ka, dahan-dahan. Utang na loob Elias, kaasapin mo ako.”

Elias could barely hear Maira’s shouting. His surroundings looked hazy. The sounds and the movement of people around him became extremely slow. The only thing crystal clear in his vision was the sight of the woman wearing a midnight blue gown. The woman was definitely beautiful. The woman was Esme.

Esme caught sight of Elias on the ground. Maira was holding him. Now, he knows truly who I am. It has ended. Esme thought of this as she looked at Elias. He’s angry at me. I know it. Not only for the lies. But, for being everything I told him I was against and being the person I hated myself.

Elias watched as Esme looked at him from afar. He knew she was sorry. She did not even have to say it out load. Her stare vibrated despair and shamefulness. “What are you looking at? They cannot hear us. The police is there. Mi hija, let’s go. ” Emmanuel Salvador said to Esme.  “Yes, papa. I’m sorry.” Esme said as she turned around from Elias and Maira’s sight. She then placed her hand around his fathers, and went in the hotel.

Esme sat in the meeting, staring at the blank walls. Trying to blind herself with the light and flower arrangements of the table. She could barely pay attention to the way Xandro Chen, son of the Mayor of Manila, looking at her. All she could think about is the way Elias was slumped to the floor in utmost shock of what he saw.

“Excuse me” Esme said as she quickly stood up from the table. “I am so sorry, Esme is not feeling well. Please continue speaking, Mr. President” “It’s fine Emmanuel. Your daughter has always been beautiful and smart, no need to apologize.”

Esme went to the roof deck of the hotel. She paid the guard to buy her some smokes. She also borrowed a used lighter from the guard.

“Thank you, Kuya. Pahiram muna ha. Tsaka please don’t tell anyone I’m here’ Esme said as he gave P 500.00 to the guard.

Esme just wanted to kill herself. She kept thinking of the good memories she shared with Elias. She knew that eventually, she would be the reason for the end of their relationship. She never told Elias the truth. Esme stood at the grills with her hands seated on the metal as she gazed at the Manila skyline.

Esme was down to her 5th cigarette when the lighter started malfunctioning. “Putangina” Esme said as she vainly attempts to make the lighter start functioning. “Naubos na yung laman niyan. Use mine.” The voice was Xandro’s. He took the faulty lighter from Esme’s hand and lighted the cigarette placed in Esme’s mouth.

“May I?” Xandro asked Esme while looking at the carton of Marlboro lights in Esme’s opened pouch. Esme gave a slight nod.

“Xandro, I know you like me.”

“I know you know that, Esme”

“Now is not a good time for you to talk”

“Who said I’m going to talk? I’m here to accompany you.”

“Leave, please.”

“You don’t want Tito to find out you smoked. Let me be the scape goat. Let them think I was the one who smoked.”

“Thank you.” Esme replied as she continued to smoke and look at the wilderness.

After an hour, Esme and Xandro went back. Emmanuel could smell tobacco from Esme’s fragrance. Emmanuel was going to excuse himself to talk to his daughter, but then Xandro arrived afterwards. They talked. Emmanuel presumed. That’s good for the business and my daughter.

After the meeting, the mobilization was also dispersed. Everyone in the meeting went home. Esme lied and told his father that she would go shopping at Rustan’s for Xandor’s birthday gift. Esme walked to her car. There he saw Elias sitting down. Carrying two bottles of Red Horse, and a small bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

“Elias”

“Uminom tayo.” Elias said as he opened the two bottles of Red Horse

“Elias, please don’t drink.”

“Niloko mo lang ako, pero hindi ako mahina sa alak. Paliwanagan mo ko.”

“Elias, I can’t talk to you like this.”

“MAGPALIWANAG KA NA. ESME MAGPALIWANAG KA NA. Litong-lito na ako. Kaya ako umiinom para hindi ako masaktan ng habang nagpapaliwanag ka.

“Elias. Elias mahal kita.”

“Bullshit. Nagsinungaling ka sa akin! Paano mo nasabing mahal mo ako kung kaya mo akong lokohin. Totoo ba yung mga paniniwala mo? Akala mo ba mahal mo ang bayan mo? Babae ka ba ni Emmanuel?”

“Hindi.”

“Kung kailangan mo ng pera, bakit di mo na lang sinabi sa akin?”

“He’s my Father, Eli. Ama ko siya.”

“Alam mo na gago ang tatay mo. Pinatay ng lokal na pulisya ng vigan iyong lolo ni Maira, dahil ikon sa utos ng tatay mo, ‘di ba?”

Esme could not reply. The fire in Elias’ eyes were deep. It got to a depth that Esme could not even fathom.

“Anong plano mo, Esme? Kaya ka ba nagpapakatuta sa mga taong ‘yan para pabagsakin sila? Iyon ba? Sabihin mo kung iyon.”

Esme could not reply. Elias put her hands on Esme’s shoulder.

“Sagutin mo ako. Sagutin mo ako. Mahal mo ba ako?

“Elias. You know that despite the lies, I loved you. I love you, until now.”

“Akala ko ba kaisa kita sa laban ko? Bakit nagawa mong maghapunan kasama yung mga buwayang iyon?”

“Oo. Elias, hanggang salita lang ako. Pinagbabayaran ko yung kasalanan ng buong pamilya ko through community work. I know what is right. I know what is wrong. I know that I have wronged you, but understand that I did that to keep you happy.”

“Pumili ka, Esme. Ako at ang bayan o ‘yang marangyang buhay mo?”

Esme slapped Elias.

“Never have I taken pride of the riches that I have. I have spent it while enduring a pang of guilt that cannot be explained. I may have wronged you, but to equate myself to the stolen money that raised and clothed me is unfair. You don’t know how suffocated I feel. You don’t know how many times I prevented myself to commit suicide just because of this wretched life! Hindi ko pinili mabuhay ng ganito, Elias!”

“Puwes, pwede ka magdisisyon ngayon. Tumiwalag ka, Esme. Kaya nating mabuhay at maglingkod sa masa. Kasama ko, hindi mo na kailangang magpasakal sa kanila. Puwede mo piliing magpakatotoo. Piliin mo ako at ang bayan.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Ano? Esme…”

“Ayokong sumama sayo. I don’t want to fight for the masses. I have long accepted the fact that I was born with a heart of a revolutionary, but I can never be one.”

“Mahal mo ba ako? Minahal mo ba ako? O niloloko mo na lang ako?”

“I will not have the President take my father and my sister away from me. He already took my mother when she tried to expose the extrajudicial killings. I will not abandon them.”

“Bakit mo inuuna ang sarili mo? Hindi mo ba naiisip na mas maraming mamatay kung hindi mo gagamitin ang posisyon mo sa lipunan para sa ikabubuti ng masa?”

“What the fuck did the masses do to me? My mother was an activist politician, and I saw one of Duterte’s PSG put poison in my food. My mother took the poison to save me. Were the masses there to grieve with me? I have served the masses. I devoted every time I have in helping them.”

“Mababaw lang ang naitutulong ng pagpapakain mo sa mga ina at pagbabasa mo ng libro sa ospital. Mismong ikaw na ang nagsabi na mas malaki ang problema ng lipunan.”

“I know what I said Elias. But at the end of the day, does your shouting and protest put food in their mouths? Does your sweat save children in need of treatment at the Pediatric ward?”

“Parang sinasabi mo na walang kwenta ang laban namin.”

“It is for the long term, but at the end of the day, people just struggle to go through life day by day. They’re simply concerned of their own survival. And, the money I give help them live.”

“Hanggang dito, pera pa rin ang namamayani para sa iyo? Hindi ikaw si Esme.”

“Ako si Esme, Elias. You just did not know me well.”

“Bumalik na lang tayo sa dati, Esme. Burahin natin ‘to. Iisiping kong hindi ito nangyari. Mahal lang kita. Mahal lang talaga kita.” Elias pleaded.

“Elias you know it’s wrong.”

“Esme…”

“Mahal kita. Mahal ko ang bayan ko. But at the end of the day, we do not get to choose who we are. I’m sorry.”

After 6 months, Esme and Elias never heard from each other. Aside from news articles about them, they barely knew each other’s condition. In one late night at the almost empty streets of taft, Esme is inside a BMW car. She was looking outside through the window.

Esme caught glance of Elias tired walking back to his condominium. At the entrance of the building, was a girl with holding a megaphone stood. Elias hugged Maira.

With watery eyes, Esme gave a half smile and looked to the man beside her. Xandro held her hand. The car drove off as the stoplight turned green.