Fall Ep. 33

“What do you think of the name Daniel?” Miguel asked as I finished rinsing the dishes. It took me a few seconds to figure out he was actually asking me about baby names, and I frowned. He walked towards me and sat across me, watching me as I do my chore.

“Sounds okay. How about the name Nyah?” I asked.

His handsome face crumpled into a frown. “What’s that?”

I spelled the name to him, and then said, “It means purpose. It’s an African name or something.”

“Oh,” he said, and he paused thoughtfully. “How about Amethyst?”

“If we have a girl, that is, but Miguel, I’m giving birth on January, not Feb,” I reminded him.

“Justine?”

I looked up at him. “What if we name her—if we have a girl—Justine Danielle?” I suggested.

“Where does your Nyah go?”

I stopped. “Nyah Justine Danielle?” I said, gave it another thought, and then shook my head. “Torture. Imagine when our kid goes to school and somebody asks her what’s her name? And imagine what she had to learn to write!”

Miguel smiled, and said, “We have twins, right? If we have two girls, then there goes your Nyah. Nyah… Nyah something.”

“Coraline,” I said, the name coming to my head in an instant, like an epiphany. “Nyah Coraline.”

“I like the way that sounds,” Miguel said, nodding. “If it’s one girl and one boy, then the boy can be Justin Daniel.”

I nodded in agreement. “Don’t you want aristocratic sounding names?” I asked him, wiping my hands on a face towel and sitting across him.

“What do you mean?”

“Like Antonio or Juan or—”

He shook his head. “Nah.”

“How about Pinoy sounding names, like… Makisig or Malaya or Matimtiman or Malikhain?”

Miguel smiled. “Does that go with Daniel or Justine? Malikhain Justine? Daniel Makisig?” I laughed loudly, for he was moving his hands in the air as if demonstrating the name to me. “Okay, okay. No combinations of Pinoy and Western names,” I relented.

“How about the name Yuan?” he asked me after a long spell of silence.

I smiled at him. “Do you know that that’s the name of one of the characters in my novel?” I told him, and he returned my smile. “So I guess that tells me you like the name Yuan,” he said, and I nodded. “Can we name one of the babies—in case they’re both boys—Yuan Gabriel?” I said, and he frowned.

“You’ve taken a liking on my brother huh?” he said, but he didn’t ask it in a way that sounded malicious to my ears.

“He’s a nice guy,” I allowed. “And he’s always been there for me.”

“Yuan Gabriel, it is.”

I thanked him, and then sat there, thinking of other baby names. “How do you want to give birth, by the way?” he asked, and I shrugged. “I told you about the Lamaze idea, right?” I said, and Miguel nodded in response. “But I think I’m not capable of doing normal childbirth, for I have a weak heart,” I said, and Miguel’s face was filled with worry at that instant. I reached out and held his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t worry, we have another option—caesarian,” I said quietly.

“You didn’t tell me of your heart condition.”

I breathed deeply. “We’d do checkups, if that will placate you. But Miguel—”

“What if the doctor would have to make me choose between you and the babies—”

My grip must have tightened around his wrist for he winced. I loosened my hold, and I said, “Then I tell you to choose the babies.”

He pulled away from me and shook his head. “No,” he said, his voice cold and his face hard. “No, JJ. If I have to make a choice, I will save you three—not just you, not just the babies. All of you.”

I sighed heavily, stood up, and walked towards him. I hugged him from behind—my tummy squashed by the seat—and whispered in his ear, “Miguel, we’ll cross the bridge when we get there. Right now, we’re okay. I’m fine. The babies are fine. You haven’t been forced to make that choice.”

Miguel let out a heavier version of a sigh, and faced me. “JJ,” was all he could say, and he closed his eyes. “Miguel, I won’t ever leave,” I whispered. He let me hold him, as if giving him the assurance from my promise.

Fall

I fell for him—literally—and he didn’t catch me.

Well, give him the benefit of the doubt: he didn’t know I was falling.

It was good that he saved me from the aches that followed.

 

It was eight in the morning and I am already in the office—one of the early birds for a change. The usual culprits for being in the office—but not necessarily working already—before the mandatory 8:30 AM call time had beaten me out already: Amy, JC, and Miguel.

The last person made me smile when I saw his head behind his cubicle. I slowed down as I passed by his place on my way to mine, and sighed contentedly as I flopped onto my seat.

He’s here.

He hasn’t been ‘here’ in the past two days for reasons unknown to me. He and I aren’t close, so I never knew why he wasn’t present in the office. Maybe he took up the two of the mandated 15-day sick leave, or had a vacation somewhere near in the past two days. Whichever one of those choices, I still believe I had no means of getting into Miguel’s life.

I had watched him, eyed him, had a crush on him in the past year that he and I have been working together.

That is, working under the same department, but never on the same team.

Fine with me, because I sure can’t concentrate if ever he’s on my team or if I’m in his team.

You don’t have any idea how my heart races whenever he would strike up small talks with me, or whenever he’d smile because someone made a joke at my expense.

I stood up, wanting to refill my tumbler with the water dispenser a few cubicles down Miguel’s. I was on my way back when I curiously slipped.

Slipped as in I landed on my butt, slid further, hit my back and head on the floor.

I let out a yelp as my tumbler, which I had let go because of my slip, landed on the floor beside me. I was thankful the tumbler was as good as advertised: it won’t spill, and that it wouldn’t break when it falls.

“JJ!”

I think that was Miguel’s voice, but I was so blinded and hurt by the pain that I barely could even analyze who spoke with worry filling that person’s voice.

I felt someone kneel down next to me. I tried to open my eyes and was successful for that part, seeing a silhouette of the person who wanted to help me.

“JJ, you alright?”

That is definitely Miguel.

I moaned, because I couldn’t move my entire body for I felt I was electrocuted. I blinked at first, and then said, “I think.”

“Can you stand?” he asked, and I shook my head, only to wince.

“Give me a ‘mo,” I replied, breathing deeply. My face was wet with tears, and I didn’t know when I had started crying.

“You alright, J?” said Amy, who also rushed to my aid. “I’ll be fine. Give me a sec,” I repeated, and tried to stand up but my back just sent me jolts of pain that I had to go lie down again on the floor.

“Here,” said JC, offering me his pillow, tucking it beneath my head. I thanked him.

“Where does it hurt?” asked Miguel, and he leaned closer to hear me speak. “My back, my head, and my ass,” I said between my teeth, and he laughed when I mentioned the last word, which went out angrily.

“I’ll give you two minutes, and then you have to stand, alright, JJ? You can’t lie here all day. They might step on you, and that will feel bad,” Miguel tried to joke, and I rolled my eyes at him. It was only later that I realized that he looks more handsome up close, and I was lucky I was given the chance to see him that way.

I waited, letting the pain fade away, and I nodded to Miguel. “Help me stand?” I croaked, and he nodded. He stepped in front of me as both JC and Amy moved back. He reached out, both arms in front of me as I gripped them, and I bit my lip to avoid screaming as he lifted me off the floor and onto my feet in one swift move. He held me for a moment, steadying me, as my breath came out in short gasps.

“Relax,” he whispered, holding me close, his one hand around my waist and the other being tortured by my own hands. I held onto him, and he leaned my head against his shoulder as I calmed myself.

“I’m fine now,” I said after a few seconds. He drew back to look at my face, and I gave him a small, pained smile. “Sure?” he confirmed, and I managed to wink at him. “Okay,” Miguel said. He rearranged our positions so that he’ll be guiding me with a hand on my waist and my other hand in his, and we took small, slow steps back to my cubicle.

Miguel lowered me slowly on my swivel chair, and I had to keep a poker face for him not to see that I am still hurting. He gave me an encouraging smile, and turned to leave. I called him back, in my throaty voice, and said, “Miguel, thank you.”

“No problem.”

I smiled inwardly, noting that he said it the way I do whenever he asks little favors from me.

“Here,” a voice said after a few seconds. I looked up, and Miguel was holding out an ice pack in front of me. “For your head.”

Again, I thanked him, and he left to go back to his work, a weird, amused smile on his face.

Fall Ep. 2

It was tough when your back aches, but when the rest of your body does?

Way tougher.

 

I trudged my way to the elevator, signing off by swiping my proximity card at my exit. If I could just pull my bag from office to my house, I’m saving my body all the pain.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?”

I stopped myself from pushing the down button of the elevator. Miguel was there, a frown on his face. “Uh, heading home?” I said, stating the obvious, reaching out to push the button again. He reached out and stopped me from doing that. I looked at him impatiently.

“Miguel, what I seriously want to do now is to go home. Please.”

He almost looked so adorable when he lifted his face to gaze at me. “Yep,” Miguel began to say, “Wait for me, will you?” he said, and before I could say another word, he disappeared back into the office. I counted ten full seconds before he emerged, logged out, and pressed the elevator button.

“Bag,” he said, and I frowned. He tugged at my bag until he got it from me, and he looked kinda cute when he placed the bag over his shoulder. Miguel, the burly guy whom I guessed to have gone to the gym or at least played a sport all these years, has a girly bag slung over his shoulder. All those people against men carrying girls’ bags are probably going to clobber him when they see him. I shouldn’t allow him to do this for the risk of lessening his handsomeness.

“Miguel, I know I slipped near your cubicle, but that wasn’t your fault. I am a klutz. Again, not your fault,” I insisted, and he shook his head.

“Where do you live?” Miguel said instead.

“Miguel,” I said, my voice filled with warning. He sighed. “Look, this is a year in the making,” he admitted in a weary voice.

“What is?”

“Talking to you for more than three sentences. So whatever I wanted to do right now, just… cruise along, okay? I spent the past year earning the courage to talking to you.”

I gaped at him. What is he saying?

The elevator dinged and I was saved from more shocking revelations.

Fall Ep. 3

Maybe all my aches wouldn’t just go away in a day.

I woke up the next morning with everything in my body hurting. I just couldn’t stand up—couldn’t even move—and I decided to take that leave that I have been longing for in so many months.

Never mind that Miguel took me home—apparently he lives two floors above my unit, what do you know—and never mind that he lingered at my doorstep and I stared into his eyes of black swirls for more than two seconds, at a loss for something sane to say. I could almost feel his breath on my face—his lips were just a few centimeters away from mine, and at that moment all I could think of was: Thank God we’re just of the same height.

I know. Silly thing to think of when the guy you’ve been pining for in the past year or so is within centimeters of kissing you.

He exhaled through his mouth and his warm breath teased my half-parted lips. I blinked, and he moved closer. I could almost feel my world stop at that moment—and I think it did—only to fast forward when he pulled away, a wide smile on his face.

“See you tomorrow, JJ.”

He turned and I watched him, angry at myself for acting so stupid and for thinking he would actually kiss me.

Today is two days after my fancy slip, and I could walk now, and my body parts could function without eliciting a groan or a moan from me. Thank heavens for painkillers. I walked into the office—carefully this time—and was not surprised that there were only a few people there. After all, it’s just eight.

Apparently, Miguel had logged in earlier than that.

He looked up when I came in, and I seriously didn’t know how to react, so I just gave him a curt nod. I am still embarrassed when I thought he’d kiss me two nights ago.

I got to my seat, turned on my PC, and waited for it to boot. The moment I was logged into the in-office network chatting system, Miguel PM-ed me. After all, our in-house chatting system—herein called “Pop”—announces every employee that logs in to everyone who is already logged in (Okay, did I confuse you much already?).

Miguel: Why were you absent?

JJ: Because I seriously can’t stand up when I woke up yesterday morning.

Miguel: Did you submit yourself to a checkup?

JJ: Miguel, I want to tell you that I honestly like what you’re doing—caring and all—but I want to know why. This is unusual, since before I slipped, you barely noticed me, talked to me, or Popped me. Why start now?

Miguel: I don’t want to explain myself, JJ.

JJ: Fine. And no, I didn’t get myself checked. I’m just… fine.

Miguel: Fine.

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

Maybe I should have just enjoyed whatever attention he’s giving me.

He ignored me the entire day and the next.

Fall Ep. 4

And oh, oh, how could you do it?/Oh I, I never saw it coming/No, oh, I need the ending/So why can’t you stay just long enough to explain?

I felt like singing to Paramore’s When It Rains.

It has been Day Five of Ignore-JJ-for-she’s-asking-so-many-questions-and-not-enjoying-the-moment scheme that Miguel has worked out. It’s been irritating, and I know it was probably my fault.

It was lunchtime, and I purposefully avoided eating at the lunch table for I think it’s high time for Miguel to join our other officemates for lunch. He has been avoiding the lunch table ever since that day I asked him why he’s finally noticing me. He has been a member of the lunch table ever since I started in this company, and I felt guilty that I am depriving him of such a ritual just because.

“JJ, aren’t you eating lunch?” asked Amy, and I shook my head. “I have to finish this report. Will eat later,” I replied without facing them. I heard them telling stories—Sandy was telling them about the latest sex scandal that rocked the Philippines, and Myrna mixed her stories about New Moon somewhere in the middle of that discussion.

Miguel: U seriously are not going to eat?

I stopped in the middle of Z-tests and looked to where Miguel’s cubicle is. He was there, and I frowned. I saw him ten minutes ago at the lunch table.

JJ: I will. Just… not now.

Miguel: Either I’ll buy you food or you go down and I’ll come with you. Eat, JJ.

I sighed wearily.

JJ: I like the second option better.

Miguel: Will wait for you at the elevators.

Fall Ep. 5

Note: People surprise you—all the time.

 

“Miguel, you seriously confuse me.”

He turned and flashed me a smile that made my heart skip a beat. “I know. I confuse myself, too—if that helps,” Miguel replied, and I just nodded. “You feeling better now?” he asked, and I gave him another nod.

“I figured that you want to eat McNuggets and fries, right?” he said when I remained silent. I turned to him. “How in the hell did you know that?” I asked, surprised and pleased that he knew what I wanted to eat and what my favorite food is.

He shrugged. “I guessed right?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“And then Oreo hot fudge sundae, huh?”

I laughed. “You are one helluva stalker,” I commended, and he laughed, his sounding like music to my ears. It was just later on that I remembered his laugh sounded distinctly like David Cook’s, and I couldn’t have it any better.

“I just pay attention, JJ,” he whispered as the elevator doors opened. He was a gentleman and he allowed me to enter first. I was at the center of the elevator and he stood in front of me, and forgive me but I really had to do this: I inhaled his scent.

And boy was it good.

He smelled so nice I wanted to bite him just to see if he tastes nice.

When we got off the elevator, there were two couples in front of us, probably heading in the same direction as we were. I noticed as the couples locked hands as they chatted animatedly, and I smirked.

“What?” asked Miguel, noticing my reaction, and I shrugged. “I’ve always wondered how that feels. I kinda forgot,” I replied vaguely. He shocked me with his next move.

“What? This?” he asked, and he grabbed my hand and locked his fingers with mine. I stopped walking—causing traffic at the exit—and he pushed me out of the building, grinning mischievously.

“You wondered how it feels to hold hands with a guy,” Miguel prompted when it was evident I was still speechless by his actions. I nodded. “Because you forgot how it feels like,” he added, and I nodded once more.

“I can hold your hand forever if you want me to.”

My head reeled and I thought I was going to faint.

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Miguel, you are one cheesy person.”

“I wonder why,” he said mystically, and before I knew it, we were already at McDonald’s. He paid for my meal despite all my efforts not to let him.

He held my hand the entire time.

Fall Ep. 6

He is flirting with another girl.

 

Honestly, I am not the jealous type of person, but come on! Miguel held my hand this lunch, and I think that about gives me a slight right to get jealous while he’s flirting with Carole. Damn.

I see blood.

Okay, maybe not.

Maybe he’s holding hands with everybody and I don’t have to get jealous. Maybe I should accept the fact that he’s the division’s sweetheart—he makes everyone feel good about themselves. Maybe I should accept the fact that when he’s staying overtime, he waits for Lorraine so that she wouldn’t have to go home into the night alone. Maybe I should accept the fact that he buys other ladies in the office (like Myrna, for example) lunch when they haven’t eaten yet. Maybe I should accept the fact that he’d rather go home without an umbrella in the height of a storm just because Carole—the girl he’s flirting with right now—doesn’t have an umbrella. Maybe I should accept the fact that he makes other people smile because he’s just that kind of person: sweet, caring, and thoughtful, and that’s what endears him to practically everyone.

Why should I be an exemption to this one then?

Maybe he’s just being nice, sweet and caring to me too because I am his officemate, and after a year in this company, I have earned it.

Maybe I shouldn’t just read between the lines, because he just might be like this to everyone.

I sighed. Unconsciously, I let out the heaviest sigh I could muster.

I stopped myself from staring at him and Carole as they stood by the pantry (which is in my direct line of sight, by the way)and returned to my work—which gives me the proper compensation that I needed, by the way, and not some unsure and unstable ground to walk on.

 

It was way past ten in the evening and there were just five of us left in the office: Lucille, Lorraine, Myrna, Miguel, and me. At the corner of my eye I saw Lucille stifling a yawn as she stretched her arms, and Lorraine was still hunched in her clusters and segments. Myrna was probably figuring out how this variable is correlated with another and why. Miguel was just… wait. He’s surfing TMZ.com.

I logged off and stood up, walking towards Lucille and telling her I’m heading home in a very quiet voice, not wanting to alarm Miguel that I am leaving. I don’t want an encounter with him now. I bade everyone else goodbye—and yeah, excluding Miguel—and headed for the exit, detouring first to the restroom.

As I was washing my face, I heard footsteps leading to the ladies restroom. I didn’t turn, but then I heard a voice call out, “Is that you, JJ?”

“Miguel,” I said in a heavy voice, as if to confirm it was me. When I turned he was at the entrance of the restroom, and I pointed at the sign on the door. “Last time I checked, this is a ladies’ restroom,” I said, wiping my face dry. He entered still and walked up to me, and cradled my face in his huge hands. “You’re mad at me,” he said huskily, and I shook my head, avoiding his gaze.

“I’m not mad,” I mumbled, and he rolled his eyes.

“I like you, JJ, and maybe you don’t need an assurance at that, but—”

Miguel stopped abruptly and I had to look up. Maybe someone entered without me noticing since he’s taking up all my attention?

No. His face was inches from mine, and before I could even react, I felt his soft lips against mine. I froze—which I think is the logical reaction. My eyelids fluttered to a close and I wanted to flip. He pulled away and I opened my eyes slowly. A smile tugged at the edges of his lips as he watched my reaction.

I knew I was blushing furiously.

“The next time you do that, give me a fair warning so that I could react, will you?” I said, and he laughed.

“I’m warning you now,” he whispered, and his face went down on mine.

This time, I made good at my chance and responded to his kiss.

Fall Ep. 7

“What?”

Miguel and I were on our way home after our nth overtime—he and I were the last ones to leave, thus, we’re the ones who literally closed the office—and were walking down the still alive San Miguel Avenue when he popped the question.

“I’m serious,” he said, facing me. We stopped walking. “Vacation. You choose if you want it here or out of the country. If you’re thinking about the expenses, I should tell you that I saved enough for the two of us for at least a three-day trip,” Miguel continued, still in a serious voice.

“Whoa,” I said, feeling weirdly dizzy. He laughed, snaking his arm around my waist. He twirled me so that I was facing him. I placed both my hands on his chest. “You want to go?” he asked again, and I didn’t give it much thought, saying, “Yeah.”

He kissed me on the tip of my nose, and then whispered, “Good. I’ll fix everything.”

 

I was crossing my fingers that when Miguel and I had filed our vacation leaves separately, no one would figure out that he and I are heading out to the same destination and that everything else were just coincidences. He submitted his ahead of my filing of my own vacation leave, and I had to confirm through Lorraine first, my immediate boss, if I’m cleared to have at least three days of vacation, and she gladly gave me her go signal. Miguel, on the other hand, had already submitted two of his three reports that are due for this month, and his boss, Charlene, gave him a break considering he almost always opens and closes the office every single day. Charlene almost forced him to take the leave for the entire week, but Miguel just laughed.

“Where are you off to?” asked Erica during one of our lunch table sessions, a day before Miguel and I are flying off to Palawan. We both decided to spend the vacation here in the country first—work considered, since we both expect our colleagues to call us even though we technically want our vacation work-free.

I stopped myself from glancing towards Miguel’s direction, and he leaned back against his chair, waiting for my answer. I gulped down water first, and then said, “I took up an offer of one of my former suitors to spend vacation in Palawan.” The teasing started, and I just smiled.

“Miguel, how about you?” they asked. He glanced at me, and then said, “Boracay.” There was some hidden meaning when he said it, and it was Carole who revealed it. “You met your first girlfriend there, right?” she said brightly, and I rolled my eyes. Fine. He won the jealousy game this time around.

He nodded, and then said, “I’m looking forward, though, to spending this vacation in particular, with someone special to me.”

Okay. Number 1: Miguel rarely speaks up about his personal life, much more be vocal about his feelings. Number 2: He doesn’t say anything about this to me whenever we’re together, so I hope I am not so assuming that I am the one he’s talking about.

He blushed when he was teased, and he was asked if he had plans of getting married.

Miguel replied, glancing at everyone on the table, his gaze stopping when he reached me, “We’ll see.”

 

“Enjoying so far?”

I turned to Miguel, who crept up behind me, hugging me from behind. He kissed me on my bare shoulder, for I was wearing a bikini—for a top, that is, for I can’t wear a bikini bottom for reasons I might reveal later. I kissed him on the cheek. “Yes. Very much. Thank you,” I whispered, and he held me close. After a long moment, he moved and held my hand, and we started to walk down the very beautiful white sand beaches of El Nido.

“I am happy, JJ, with what we have now.”

I gave him a smile. “I am, too.”

He pulled me close and kissed me on the hair. “Favorite color?” he mumbled.

“Blue. And green.”

“Favorite band?”

I laughed. “What is this? Twenty questions?”

Again, he kissed me on the lips lightly. “Just answer it, JJ.”

“Paramore,” I replied. “That’s band, right?”

He nodded. “Singer?”

“Come on, you know that’s a no-brainer. David Cook.”

We stopped walking and he pulled me to sit down on the sand. I leaned my body against him, and he draped his arms around me. He exhaled contentedly. “You plan to get married?”

I paused. That was a quick change of topic from favorite band and singer to marriage.

“I do. I think every girl dreams of that. You?”

“Someday.”

Miguel leaned in and started to trail kisses from my shoulder up to my neck, tracing my jaw and then up to my ear, nibbling it. “Kids?” he murmured, and I shivered at his warm breath teasing my skin.

“Of course,” I whispered huskily. He clutched me, his one hand resting on my tummy, and I moved my body so that I will be facing him. “You? Do you have plans?” I returned the question, and he winked. “Oh hell yes,” he said gruffly, claiming my lips in a hungry kiss. His other hand crept to my head, and he tugged at my ponytail to let my hair down. He deepened the kiss, pressing my body to mold against his.

“JJ…”

I couldn’t explain the ton of desperation, hunger (not for food), and want in his voice, but when he released me to look into his eyes, despite the darkness at where we were, I saw the fire ablaze in them.

“Miguel.”

He took that as an agreement to whatever he wanted to do, and he stood up, lifted me off the sand, and we headed to our cottage.

 

I woke up to Miguel, his finger stroking up and down my bare thigh. I groaned, and he kissed me on the neck.

“Were you fat when you were little?” he asked quietly, his voice a quiet murmur against the sound of the waves splashing against the shore a few meters away.

I shook my head. “No,” I replied sleepily, burying my face in my pillow. He was tracing something around my upper thigh, and that was when his question hit me.

“Stretch marks,” I quipped, and I felt him nod from behind me. “I had always been thin. I seriously don’t know why I have stretch marks,” I explained.

“Well, I don’t feel like they alter your sexiness,” Miguel said, and I laughed. I faced him. “You know, if you want to get laid again, you can always just say so and not result to flattery,” I teased, and he rolled his eyes.

“Do you think I’m just saying nice things just for you to make love to me again?” he said, sounding hurt. I kissed him lightly on the lips and then shook my head. “Maybe not,” I replied.

“I really don’t have to speak when I could just do this,” he whispered naughtily, and in one swift move he was on top of me again.

“Shut up and just do it,” I said, and he laughed.

“Gladly.” He obliged, and I was reduced to moans and grunts in a matter of minutes.

Fall Ep. 8

Maybe it was all too soon, too fast.

And he and I were all too not ready for this.

 

It seemed a long time ago when the entire lunch table was just joking about having kids and getting married. Now, it seems all too real.

It was just this morning when I woke up and I knew something was weirdly different about my day and my body. I’ve been feeling this for days now, and I had no idea that this is really the big deal.

I haven’t talked to Miguel ever since he and I came back from Palawan. It’s just that the moment he and I returned, he was plunged into report-writing plus three more new projects, while my data from two projects had arrived. We were too busy to even meet outside the office, much less talk about what happened in our four days in Palawan.

I also came up with the conclusion that he is seriously avoiding me.

I dropped by Mercury Drug on my way to the office just to check if my hunches are true. And now that the two pink lines on the pregnancy test kit told me that I’ll be a mom in eight months’ time, I still couldn’t believe it.

JJ: Miguel, I need to talk to you.

Miguel: Can we do it later? I’m still doing something.

JJ: Why are you avoiding me?

Miguel: JJ, I know what happened to us in Palawan complicated things between you and I, and I just realized I might not be up to this right now. I shouldn’t have crossed that line. You are my officemate, J—my colleague. It should have just stayed that way.

 

I stopped my tears from falling. Translated: I got what I wanted from you. That’s it.

I just couldn’t believe his explanation, and I don’t buy it. Some office crap he’s giving me? I am damn pregnant! And with those words, I don’t think he’ll accept it that he got me pregnant.

Not now, when I find out he’s going for workplace ethics than his fondness for me. Not when he chose workload over love life.

“JJ, are you okay?” asked Erica, who is seated at the cubicle next to me. When I snapped out of my angry state, I noticed I was clutching at my pillow so tightly that my knuckles actually turned white. I relaxed, and nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay,” I told her, my voice tight.

“Sure?” she pressed. I knew she was worried since my eyes are already filled with tears.

“Yeah,” I croaked. When she looked away, I hastily wiped my eyes.

This is so bad.

Fall Ep. 9

When you see people whispering behind your back and when you think they are probably talking about you and you alone, chances are they really are talking about you.

I knew my officemates are smart—they have probably figured it out the first month out when I suddenly grew thin and then fat in such a short span of time. And I’ve been pigging out much—I give in to my many cravings, so I bid goodbye to my meager salary. But then I wish someone would just ask, you know, and not just propagate office gossip at my expense.

Lunch table was weirdly tense, and I know I was the one causing it. And of all days that Miguel would choose to eat with us and sit next to me, he chose today—my day of revelation. I waited for everyone to finish eating before I cleared my throat, signaling I am about to reveal something. “I have an announcement to make,” I said in a hoarse voice.

I felt Miguel stiffen next to me. He doesn’t know yet, but I guess by now he should have figured this one himself. Maybe he’s thinking I am going to reveal that he’s the “unwilling” dad to my baby.

“I guess it’s high time that I put an end to the whispers, don’t you think?” I continued. “I know I do not have any boyfriend to show for or to tell stories of. I may not have been telling you guys that I have been going out with someone—I’d like to think that that’s my case with this guy, but apparently not—and that I may have been secretive about all these personal stuff about me.”

I paused. “So… there. I am six weeks pregnant, and I am not sure where this would take me. I had already talked to my mom and dad, and even though my mom kinda took it the way moms usually do, my dad just did a walkout on me. I’m hoping he’d understand that this is not how I wanted my first pregnancy to be, that even his perfect daughter can make mistakes too, and apparently this is one of them.”

Nobody spoke, and I took that as a cue to stand up and leave.

 

“JJ, wait.”

I turned and saw Miguel coming after me. I shook my head and told him hastily that I don’t want to talk to him, and he didn’t budge.

“When did you find out?” he demanded, and I rolled my eyes.

“Three weeks? I’m not exactly keeping track, you know,” I said sarcastically. “Oh wait. Remember the day you told me that I’m just your colleague—your officemate—and that you shouldn’t have crossed that line? That’s it. That’s the day I found out.”

Miguel didn’t even recoil at the bitterness in my voice. “My baby?” he asked, doubt evident in his voice. It took me a full second before I could react—his words hit me like knives at full speed directed at my heart. I gave him a resounding slap on the face—so hard that even my hand hurt.

“Miguel, I might have been way too easy with you, but that was just way too insulting,” I seethed, and I turned at my heel and left him there, clutching his hurting cheek.

 

I stared at the brief that was sent to me for the nth time in the past thirty minutes. I was amazed and frustrated at the path that my life has taken: not married and single but pregnant, the father of my child questioning if the baby is really his, my dad not talking to me because I got pregnant out of wedlock and out of a relationship which is seriously against his moral and religious code, and I am still fifty grand away from saving up for my C-section in seven months. Or if I find out that I am allergic to the anesthesia, I’m doing it the normal way, which I realized is also not possible, my thoughts flashing back to Damon.

Seriously—how can this happen when my life was perfectly fine three months ago?

I blame it all on my slip—that nasty slip—and the decisions that followed. Damn.

I closed my eyes for a moment and let out a heavy sigh. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Miguel was watching me—for how long, I don’t know—and he returned to what he was doing when I caught him.

Miguel: JJ, I am sorry. Truly. I didn’t mean to offend you.

I didn’t reply to his Pop. I was hoping to disappear from my spot just right now.

Miguel: If I am right in counting backwards, you’re almost two months on the way. What do you plan to do?

I paused and seriously contemplated on crying right now.

JJ: My plan is not to involve you.

Miguel: Please don’t do this. I said I’m sorry.

JJ: No, Miguel. I get now what you told me weeks ago. I am not ready for this either. Involving you means complicating your life. Coming out means one of us has to go from this company. I doubt you’d want that. You’re up for a promotion in two months.

Miguel: It doesn’t have to be this way, J.

JJ: If you have any other better ideas, I’m open to that. Right now, all I want to do is continue this pregnancy, save up, and leave after I give birth. Does that sum it up much for you?

Miguel: Move in with me.

JJ: Miguel, thirty minutes ago, you weren’t even sure if the baby I’m carrying is yours. Now you’re asking me to move in? NO.

Miguel: I forgot how stubborn you are.

JJ: And I still remember what a workaholic you are, Miguel. Go back to work.

Miguel: I really am sorry, JJ.

I deleted every message he sent me, and returned to my brief, still miserable.

 

Thirty minutes until the official “dismissal” time, I got this weird craving for ice cream. I asked permission from Lorraine and was waiting at the elevators when Miguel appeared. Maybe elevators have significance in our story—I have yet to find out. Seems to me it’s the one place where he and I always meet.

“Where you off to?” he asked, and I said meekly, “Down.” I didn’t look at him, and I don’t want to.

“Craving for something?”

I was disarmed by the lightness of his voice, but quickly hid it. “Ice cream,” I replied, my voice still flat.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, finality in his voice, and I just sighed. Just like back when we were “dating,” he had always been this semi-dominant person. He had a mind of his own—and I know most girls would like that, but come on. Sometimes you still have to consult others or turn to others, right? When he told me he shouldn’t have crossed the line of us just being officemates, I reassessed the weeks that I was with him. He might come across as selfish to me, but that assessment came with anger.

He made that decision—to end whatever he and I were just starting—just for himself and for his ambitions, and never considered what I wanted, what I had to say.

And I guessed it was good that I found out about that side of him this early, so that I don’t have to bear with it for the rest of my life.

“Fine,” I exhaled, and I felt his hand on the small of my back. And even though I am angry at him, ironically, I felt my body relax at his touch. “I am serious about the moving in thing. You can save up the money you use up for your rent for the baby,” he whispered to my ear. I turned to him just as the elevator doors had opened.

“And I am serious about not moving in,” I told him, and I stepped into the elevators. He followed and stepped behind me, and surprised me by hugging me from behind.

“Miguel, please,” I said in a tired voice. “I don’t want this anymore. I told everyone in the office what they needed to know just because I had to. I told you earlier, right? I agree with you that we shouldn’t have crossed that line, that we should have at least considered the repercussions of whatever we have had on our work. Maybe when we came back from that trip and the workload given to us was way beyond what you expected and you realized you probably can’t handle me, the relationship that had to be kept secret, plus the work,” I said, trying to keep my voice leveled.

“I am not taking away your rights as the kid’s father—you still are, no matter how much I flip the world and wish otherwise. But in terms of you and I, nothing more. It stops right here. I am the baby’s mother, and you’re the father. Don’t expect anything more from it.”

Miguel was silent, but he didn’t remove his arms around me until the elevator showed ground floor and the doors opened. He was silent the whole time we walked to the nearby McDonald’s, and he paid for my Oreo hot fudge sundae. I didn’t protest—I knew he would do that—and when we were walking back to the office, he spoke.

“I hurt you too much, did I, JJ?”

My hand with the sundae-filled spoon stopped midway to my mouth. “Miguel, we’re better off being what we are before I slipped and fell for you. That’s just it,” I replied, spooning the cold cream into my mouth.

I didn’t know why the Oreo hot fudge didn’t give me that satisfying feeling it usually does when I eat it.