“Never have I ever…,” he says, and takes a deep breath. It feels like an eternity passes while he considers what to say for his turn. I’m about to joke that it’s already New Year’s when he finally speaks.
“… told anyone you were my first crush.”
A moment passes…
Another moment passes…
Multiple moments pass and I still haven’t said anything.
If not for my pulse ringing in my ears, I would think that I was having a stroke. Someone could write a love story about this moment. A boy tells a girl he had a crush on her; girl proceeds to have a stroke.
Seph was the first non-blood-related boy I was ever aware of. One of my earliest memories was our moms pushing the two of us to perform during Seph’s seventh birthday. Maybe this “crush” thing he’s confessing is all about proximity. I was the girl who was in his vicinity when he hit puberty. Of course his newfound horniness would latch on to the closest target.
And maybe it’s not reallymewho he’s attracted to. Maybe I’m an early sign for Seph to realize he’s into talented women. Like, he doesn’t find me hot. He finds talented girls hot.
I only snap back to reality when Seph speaks up.
“Your turn to confess something,” he prompts.
“Th-that wasn’t a confession,” I argue, clearing my throat. “I—I was a very talented kid and had lots of admirers.”
Seph’s annoying grin pops on his face again. “How many admirers, exactly?”
“Lots,” I insist. “Some might say I was a superstar.”
For some reason, his eyes turn soft at that. “That’s what your dad called you, right?”
The concern in his face makes my eyes prick.
He then says, “I miss my dad too.”
“Did he get stuck in Amsterdam?”
Seph answers with a shrug. “Probably with his new family.”
New family?
“Do you know my mom came up with the whole Moseph name because of my dad?” Seph says, his eyes lingering on the ceiling. “She thought they were having lots of problems because she had a hard time getting pregnant. So when I came into the picture, I was supposed to be the miracle baby, the one who’d make everything better.
“But then the night they brought me home,” he continues, and takes a deep breath. “Ma was with your parents when my dad kept taking calls on his phone…
“… Then my mom found out he was already seeing someone else.”
Seph’s eyes are welling up when he scoffs, “Turns out I wasn’t the miracle baby.”
This is what Pa meant when he said Seph’s dad isn’t around.
“My mom always talks about my dad like they’re still in love. Talks about him like he’s the best husband in the world,” he says, shaking his head. “And I used to be like that too. I joined all those musicals, got into acting because those were the only times he’d actually pay attention.”
I’m about to spit out some of the best curse words for Uncle Francis when Seph starts listing nice things about him.
“But my dad… I know some part of him cares about us.” Seph then tells me stories of how in love he and his mom were, how his dad always contacts him during his birthdays.
I don’t know why he defends Uncle Francis for the bare minimum. But I guess if either of my parents decided one day that they never wanted to see me again, I would keep loving them too. Even if Achi suddenly wanted nothing to do with me, I would still smack anyone who talked shit about her. Maybe love has no real limits when it comes to family.
“Shit, sorry,” Seph curses while wiping his eyes on his sleeves. “This is what you call embodying vulnerability, Ilagan.”
I try to nod while blinking back the tears burning in my throat.
