Messy Mistake

Puggggsss... Squeaakkk...

Nag-landing na ang eroplanong sinasakyan nina Anton at Micah.

It was mid-afternoon. Maambon, at may paparating na bagyo na naman daw. Luckily, it wouldn’t hit their location.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have just landed at Suvarnabhumi Airport. We apologize for the sudden bump during our arrival. That was just the Captain’s way of waking you up to make sure you don’t miss your flight’s arrival in Thailand!”

Ha! Micah thought. Ganyan naman talaga sila dati pa. She was sleeping on Anton’s shoulder—well, not entirely sleeping. Half-awake, you could say.

Si Anton naman, tulog pa rin. Paano ba naman kasi, kahapon lang ang wedding. They were both exhausted, and their flight was at ten in the morning.

The wedding had been simple and abrupt.Why wait longer? ika nga ni Micah. She had been waiting for this. She didn’t want anything engrande. She just wanted to finally settle down and live a normal life. The wedding was attended by close friends, and a few selected ninong and ninang—’yung bang totoong ninong at ninang. Families? Well, only for Micah. Anton was an ulila. He had been found by a sampaguita vendor who turned him over to a devout Catholic policeman, who in turn sent him to a bahay ampunan.

Walang nag-ampon sa kanya, so the old policeman visited him from time to time, eventually supporting him through elementary and high school. He couldn’t adopt him; meron na siyang sariling pamilya and he couldn’t afford to add another kid to his home of three children.

Anthony Solomon—that was the name the social worker gave him. Solomon kasi ang apelyido ng pulis. Anthony naman ang first name kasi, well, the social worker was a hopeless romantic. The name of her ex-boyfriend—a seaman who got another woman pregnant—was Anthony. So ayun, Anthony Solomon.

His only option back then was to be a seminarian. The priest had told him, “Join ka lang, for the scholarship. After you graduate, you can exit. At least ba eh maka-graduate ka!“ Kita mo, ’yung pari pa nagturo nu’n.

But for Anton, it was his way out. His only real option was to graduate. Wala siyang mana. Wala siyang pamilya. Even his name was borrowed. And given that he had no time for chicks, he actually took the path to priesthood seriously. So, he took up an education course with a major in English.

It was there, at the Santo Romano University, that he met Macaela Tanco. Her ancestors were from China—Tan and Koh—who married, at kalaunan eh naging Tanco. Kaso, hindi sila ka-level ng mga ultra-rich businessmen. Her parents owned a hardware store. Typical ’yung hindi madaling ma-audit ng BIR. She learned to be business-minded from her parents. She sold shoes, lipsticks, cologne, at kung anu-anong patok that month. All at factory prices. Her edge was that she wasn’t just an entrepreneur; she was a hot entrepreneur.

She had boyfriends in high school, just to experience it. She’d been kissed, yes, but never touched. Her parents were traditional Chinese kasi. One time, a varsity ex of hers tried it. They were freshmen; she was drunk, but not that drunk. Ayun, boom—sampal. Buti na-settle ang act of lasciviousness. Simula nu’n, she never entertained anyone.

Was she not aroused? Of course she was, and that was exactly why the slap was so hard. Her strict father had warned her: You make that mistake, you’re out. Walang mana—as if naman marami silang pera.

But she took it seriously. She saw a lot of beauties getting wasted. ’Yung iba nabubuntis nang maaga. There was nothing wrong with it; she didn’t judge those who did, but that didn’t mean she would just go with the flow.

And where was the seminarista Anton during this serye? He was at the school chapel. He had heard the news that a varsity player tried to get to second base with the Miss University and ended up suspended. Grabe.

He waxed the floor, wiped the chairs, listened to the priest, and attended mass. Repeat. Then one time, he was mopping the floor again on a Saturday afternoon. May 5:30 AM mass kinabukasan sa university chapel.

“Anak, paki-linis na rin ng confession booth ha. Mayroong batch ng high school bukas na magkukumpisal,” Sister Nancy told him.

And so the seminarian did. He cleaned meticulously, wiping away all the sins that were left in the booth. Paano ba naman kasi, hindi na napinturahan nang maayos at luma na. Kaya medyo may anay.

Tired but proud of what he had done, he sat down inside. “So this is how it feels,” Anton muttered. He was sitting in the priest’s chair. You really couldn’t see who was on the other side. Better that way, he thought. Who knew what other people would confess? Murder? Kabit? Well, truth might be stranger than fiction. And the priest just forgives them? How does he compute the number of prayers for penance? He fumbled around, trying to switch on the tiny light inside to check it, getting completely lost in his thoughts.

Creak. The small wooden door on the other side opened and closed. Someone knelt on the kneeler.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned...” a soft, strangely familiar voice began from the other side. It was Macaela, the Miss University.

Anton froze. His hand hovered mid-air over the light switch. What the hell...he wanted to say, but his throat went completely dry. What in the actual hell?

“Father...” she continued, her voice trembling slightly, laced with a desperate kind of frustration. “I... I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I slapped a guy recently because he touched me, but... Father, the truth is, I liked it. I liked it too much.”

Anton’s eyes widened in the dark. He pressed his back flat against the wooden wall, barely breathing, terrified she might hear his heart hammering violently against his ribs. He was just a seminarian with a mop bucket parked outside!

“It’s not just him,” Micah confessed, her words spilling out in a hurried, breathless rush. “Lately, I can’t control it. Every time I try to study, or even when I’m just sitting in class... I get this intense... heat. This uncontrollable urge. I find myself getting aroused over the smallest things, Father. The friction of my skirt. The vibration of the jeepney ride. I try to pray it away, I try to keep myself busy, but my body just reacts. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch without losing my mind.”

Anton clamped both hands over his mouth. Holy Mary, Mother of God, he thought, his face burning hotter than lit charcoal. He was sweating profusely inside the cramped, termite-ridden box, suddenly hyper-aware of the suffocating silence.

“I’m terrified, Father,” she whispered, sounding dangerously close to tears. “What if I can’t stop? What if I just... give in?”

Anton sat there, utterly paralyzed, clutching his dirty cleaning rag like a rosary, trapped in the absolute most absurdly awkward situation of his entire life.