Out on a Limb

It had been half an hour since I had sat before my laptop vacillating between posting my invitation for an evening at the graveyard with me...or not posting it at all.

"Come on, Samantha, stop shilly-shallying or I'll step right in and decide for you," my impatient twin sister Thea called from the kitchen.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" I complained secretly. Hrmph. How can twin sisters be so alike and so different at the same time. Thea was outspoken, I am reticent and calculating, careful about everything I said and did, except when provoked. Thea liked jeans and tees that went well with imported rubber shoes. I love frilly, dainty dresses that went well with high-heeled shoes. Thea loved fried food. I like my food spicy and brothy (if there's such a word) . Thea loved war and action movies. I love dramatic and romantic ones. Thea loved Filipino boys, I prefer Caucasians or what we termed as mestizo. She married young. I am not married at 26.

"Okay, Okay, I am sending out my invitation now," I called back and hit the "post" botton involuntarily.

"This will separate the boys are from the men. While boys fret at the thought of spending the night at the graveyard, men -real men who have fire in their belly, would jump at the opportunity to prove their masculinity," I enthused.

"Don't get your hopes too high, sister. I don't think your gimmick will work. Graveyards, memorial parks, rather, are no longer that creepy. In fact homeless people have shamelessly squatted those beautiful, homey tombs and so you and your date wouldn't be alone," she laughed derisively

"Shut up, you killjoy! That remains to be seen, though," I shot back.

In less than ten minutes, five people responded.

What are you a witch or something?

Hey, are you crazy?

Who the heck are you?

I'd love to, just say when and where.

Frivolous

I liked the I'd love to best. I sent him (I hoped the responder was male) the address of where our parents were buried. Loyola Memorial Park in Marikina City on November 1, 2019.

""Yes, I know the place," he replied. "See you."

"Good, See you" I confirmed.

"Yes! I did it!" I shouted jubilantly. Thea gave me a thumb up sign.

I shopped all day for a nice and dainty dress to wear for my date.I had purchased a beautiful green (because green looked good at night) sleeveless dress that highlighted my smooth, creamy arms. I hoped my Halloween date would like it and love the woman inside the dress. Wistful thinking.

November 1 dawned brightly and gradually turned into a beautiful evening perfect for romance - soft gentle breeze, stars shining like tiny diamonds in the blue sky.

"Good evening, You must be Samantha." a male voice greeted me from behind while I was standing at our rendesvouz.

I turned slowly, dramatically, to face my date. Ohhhhh. I almost fainted when I saw him. I couldn't believe my eyes. He looked like a matinee idol. If he was an actor, I wouldn't know. I could not place his name at the moment.

He extended his right hand to me, I accepted it and held it in mine - a tad too long I guess, for he gently withdrew it from mine.

"My name's Sam," he introduced himself.

"What a coincidence," I laughed, "my name's Samantha."

"Do you live near this place?" I asked impertinently, pinching my arm for being so naive.

"I live in Paranaque," he said.

"Oh, I am sorry you had to come a long way for this appoint..."

"Date?" he interrupted me. "It's really no sweat at all. I had looked forward to meeting you since the time you posted that invite."

"Hmm, he speaks good English, so millennial," I thought secretly. "Are you by any coincidence a Chinese mestizo? A Chinoy? That's Chinese-Pinoy."

He laughed. "I like your sense of humor. I am beginning to like you already," he said.

"I think I like you too." I answered.

"I am Chinese. My parents hail from Taiwan and moved to the Philippines when I was a baby. They are into garments manufacturing," he volunteered.

"My parents are dead. They are buried right here in our family mosauleum."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that, " he said. "How did they die? Did they die separately, I mean one after the other. Or..."

"Mama died a year before my Dad died." It was my turn to volunteer information.. Then without meaning to I started baring my soul to him as I poured out the contents of my heart.

"Sam," I said, tears welling in my eyes, "Do people know they are dying? Can people anticipate their death?

"I wouldn't know for sure, but I have heard stories of how sick people knew their time was about to come to an end. Why do you ask?"

"I think my mother knew exactly when she would die. A month after we buried her ashes here, I saw her diary. Mom chronicled every sad episode of her life that we were not even aware of because she never complained. She was the type of person who kept her secrets to herself. In fact she did a very good job of staying strong for me and my sister, hiding the shame and enduring the pain of sharing and eventually losing her husband, our dad to other women. Yes, it is true that Dad still came home to her every night, but she couldn't help wonder how many women's beds he had warmed several hours before that.

In one entry she titled "From my Window in the Sky, she sort of anticipated that she would be cremated and that Dad would receive her ashes in an urn. She wrote, I see you sitting there and holding my icy gray ashes securely in your hands like it was a fragile bird longing to be free but doomed for extinction anyway. How I wish I were still alive to feel the comfort of being held by you. Did you know how much I have longed to be held tenderly, lovingly and securely in your arms when I was cold and lonely at night, when I was sick and when I was in pain? And the world was spinning all around me like I was being sucked into a mysterious abyss where no one could see me or reach me. When I was all alone and there was no one to share my happiness and sadness, my doubts and my fears, my dreams and my aspirations, my triumphs and my failures except my pillow drenched in tears. Now from my window in the sky I see you holding the leavings of my life in your hands. But too late my beloved, I cannot hold you back nor could I say thank you so much."

In another entry she wrote, and I think she had quoted this from someone else, "No man can do me a truer kindness in this world than to pray for me." I think she was asking for prayers, for health and healing, for peace of mind and comfort or even release through death. Sometimes, Grandmama would catch her clutching at her chest as though she was in utter pain. Yet she won't go to the doctors."

By the time I finished relating Mama's story to Sam, I was crying unashemely and realized that he was holding me in his arms, stroking my hair, but not kissing me.

Automatically, I cupped my hands and breathed into them to test if I had bad breath. I didn't.

I stood up from the bench we were sitting on and paced the floor back and forth many times, trying to buy time until he would realize he had amorous feelings for me too. Anyway I was sure I would have stopped his sexual advances. But nothing happened.

From the corner of my eye I saw him watching me. If he was irritated or peeved I could not tell. Unlike me, he looked so calm, unruffled, sophisticated..

"Sam, have you ever been in love before?"I asked from out of the blue.

"Yes," he said, "Many times. "

"Have you ever been married?"

"No, where is this interrogation leading to?"

"Nowhere, I just wanted to know," I lied. But why haven't he kissed me?

I didn't have to probe deeper.

"I have been unlucky in love," he revealed. "All the boys I have dated were only there for the money. They knew I was wealthy and pretended they loved me...""

"Sam," I interrupted, "You don't have to tell me anything you would have wanted to keep to yourself. However, I must admit that I had a crush on you the moment you extended your hand to me and I held it in mine. There was some spark inside of me I couldn't understand," I said without any qualms, surprising myself. "Aw, shucks, what am I saying? Please, forget I even said that, will you?"

Sam laughed aloud. "Oh, Samantha, Samantha, you ctazy naughty imp. I am sorry I cannot say I felt that same way about you too. Yes, you are beautiful and intelligent and stunning but we belong to the same club. Us girls don't fall in love with each other."

"Yes, of course. We, girls don't do that," I agreed. But at the back of my mind I wished we did. I wish I would find someone exactly like Sam for my boyfriend...and better yet, for my future husband. He should be as handsome and thoughtful and yes, definitely as wealthy as he was.

"Anyway, tell me more about your family. Tell me about your dad and what busniess he was into?" Sam said, rousing me from my musings.

"Dad was into real estate and he was a womanizer. That was why Mama wouldn't go to the doctors. She preferred to die and leave this cruel world to be with her Creator in heaven where there would be no more sicknesses and heartaches and heartbreaks."

There was momentary silence between us, enveloping us, suffocating me. I wondered what he was thinking. Or was he pondering about the revelation that I had just spilled out concerning my family?

Suddenly, I noticed that the night had wore on and it was dark all around. The only lights that illumined the place came from the lampposts. The people who had come to visit the dead were gone. After tonight, I may not see Sam again.And worse, he wouldn't want to see me again.

"Sam," I said, stumbling on my words, "this is not the end of our friendship, I hope. We shall always be friends and shall keep in touch with each other, right?" (I hope and pray that someday you will realize that you are in love with me as a man would a woman, I prayed, in my mind.)

"Of course Samantha. This is just the beginning of a beautiful friendship. It was nice knowing you."

"Thank you for listening to me and allowing me to pour my heart out to you, Thank you for listening to me without being judgmental."

"Yeah, Samantha, I am indeed honored and privileged for trusting me with your story."

I looked around me. It was beginning to dawn in the east.

"One last story before we part" I said.

"I'm all ears."

"In my province up north, the old folks believe that when you spend Halloween night in the graveyard with the opposite sex, you will end up at the altar in marriage. Crazy, isn't it? That does not apply to us, of course?" I laughed, trying to cover up my frustration.

"That will never apply to us," Samuel confirmed.

"Uhuh."

Now I will have to go home and endure another year of bearing the brunt of a deriding public, friends and family: "When are you getting married, Samantha?" "What's keeping you from getting married" "You are running out of time."

My folks believe that a girl should be married by the time she is 21. I am 26 and considered a bit too old to still be enjoying single blessedness. They think something is awfully wrong with me.

The househelps were all asleep when I got home. I had to use my own key to open the gate and the front door. I went straight to my room and catch some sleep.

It was eleven o'clock in the morning when I woke up.

Grandmama emerged from her bedroom with a strong warning. She warned me that at 35 God would close a woman's womb and she could no longer bear a child. Of course that remained to be seen.

"Oh, Grandma, that would be the least of my concerns. If that happens, I could always enter the convent and become a nun, yes?" I blurted out. She lowered her gaze and spoke no more. An uneasy silence fell between us.

Realizing I must have offended her by my remark, I walked up to her and hugged her tight. "Grandmama, don't forget that Mama married at 28, and look what she produced! Twins! In the meantime, please let me just endure, enjoy, rather, savor another year of single blessedness. Right, Grandmama?"

Our good-natured grand matriarch smiled and said, "All right, but just for a year, no more no less. I should be expecting a wedding invitation in 2020, yes?"she jested.

Thea couldn't help laughing deliriously when I told her I fell in love with a gay (homosexual) member of society.

"Samantha, Samantha, bear this in mind: Not every man who is nice to you is flirting with you. Some mothers just raised their sons to be gentlemen."

"I'll keep that in mind, sister. Thanks."

After five days, our telephone in the living room rang. "Hello?"

"Good morning. This is Samuel. may I speak to Samantha?"

"Sam! What's up?" I answered excited as a puppy being served his first meal in the morning.

"I just wanted to find out if you are safe. Did you sleep well last night, I mean..."

"Yes Sam. I am safe and I had a good sleep."

"Samantha, are you free on the weekend? I'd like to see you and perhaps catch a movie with you?"

"Sure, where shall we meet?" I said, hoping I did not sound too eager.

"Splendid. I'll pick you up from your office at 5 pm, That okay with you?"

"Okay, Sam, see you."

I put back the phone in its cradle and slowly slumped into the chaise lounge, wondering what had changed with him so suddenly.

All day Saturday, I was in jitters, combing and recombing my hair, adjusting my scarf, even brushing my teeth twice and gurgling mouthwash. The girls in my office started giggling and talking to each other in whispers.

I almost jumped from my chair when I saw Sam.

"At last! After a week!". I exclaimed silently.

"Would you like to eat first before we enter the cinema?" he asked solicitously.

"I think I'll just have a burger and iced tea (one of the small pleasures I treasure since I became an adult)," I demurred,

While walking to Contis, we bumped into a lady who was a spitting image of Sam.

"Samuel!" she enthused, laughing.

But before she could speak, I cut in and said, "I didn't know you had a sister."

"Hey, I presume you are Samantha, yes?" she asked. I nodded.

"Samuel, I love this girl already." she said. "Invite her to the house soon, okay? She should sample my cupcake."

She extended her dainty hand to me. "Samantha, I am Mrs. Chiu, Samuel's mother."

"Nice meeting you, Ma'am," was all I could say, choking on the words, embarassment written all over my face I presumed..

"Bye now, you two. Have a nice day!"

After the movie, we went driving along Marcos Highway and stopped at the Riverbanks promenade.

Our conversation was light and inconsequential.

Suddenly, Sam reached for my hands and said, "I have been doing a lot of self-examination. And I have determined that I am a man. And a man should love a woman, not another man. I realized this when I met you. I lied when I told you I had no intentions for you other than friendship. The truth is that I have loved you from the start. I just couldn't make up my mind. You came into my life without warning. I guess I wasn't ready for it. Now I am sure about my sexuality and about how much I like you. I wouldn't know how I could live without you. I want to marry you and live with you for the rest of my life, if you would say you do too."

"Oh, Sam, Sam, I thought you would never ask. Yes, I want to marry you." I said, crying tears of joy.

From Marikina we drove all the way to Sam's house in Paranaque to tell Mrs. Chiu the good news. And she was more excited than we were. She wanted a grand wedding where the cream of society would be in attendance. And she wanted it as soon as possible.

"You don't seem to be excited about all this, eh, Samantha?" she noted.

"Oh Ma'am, I am, I am just overwhelmed by it all in such short notice..." I stumbled on my words.

"Ha ha," Sam laughed. "Mama loves surprises. You should learn to be ready with her surprises."

"Oh yes," Mrs. Chiu went on. "Before i forget, here," she said handing me two boxes of cupcakes. "You are not going home without taking these with you."

"She keeps boxes of these cupcakes ready for her friends,..." Sam began to say when his mother cut him short.

"And only for people who matter to me," Mrs. Chiu corrected him.

Our wedding day was a grand occassion for the Chius and Santoses. Grandmama was crying tears of joy all throughout the ceremony.

When I pronounced, "Yes, I do," I heard some sniffles from the visitors, including Thea, and from my husband himself.

Today, Sam and I have a junior Samuel = the apple of his daddy's eye.

.