One of the early memories of Nikolai that he couldn’t ever forget was back when he was about 6 years old. Then the youngest of all the brothers, he could say that he wasn’t exactly the favourite, but let’s say he normally got his way when pursued. It was in that reason that, in the middle of the year when his brothers are on spring break vacation, he took a leave from his school and stayed at home, feigning a reason of business matters–at least that was what his father came up with when the principal got a little cross, and was dubious about the two week pull out, but at 6, Nikolai knew his powers over his father, and most of them lay on incessant whining.

In those days, his brothers were all out of the house, and his mother was supposed to be on a trip, leaving the baby sitting to his father. He only heard that his mother was going to fix a few finances in Italy, and that his father stayed; it wasn’t something he ever bothered with in the first place. He simply was cooped up in his room, all his TV shows lined up; sometimes waiting for a call from one of his brothers telling him about their trips somewhere in the north.

In one of those nights, however, he found himself waking up a little hungry. He remembered passing up on dinner to get a couple more hours of sleep, to which his father didn’t mind. Let them grow taller, he always says. Gingerly, he crept downstairs and made his way into the dark, when he realized that there was a bit of light on, coming from the television in the downstairs family room. Curious as usual, he kept silent, thinking it might be his father watching one of his usual videos downstairs about naked women that he didn’t fully comprehend but left his father alone with, only to find an actual action happening on the sofa. It was only him and his father at home then, and young Nikolai would not understand privacy till the age of nine when his own mother found him masturbating in his room thankfully covered in sheets, but he was aware that he had to be quiet, and so he was till he got a full view of what he was about to see.

On the sofa was a masked woman, on all fours. His father was fully naked, and right there, Nikolai knew that they were having sex—something he learned from his brothers. But this woman who was covered by the semi darkness seemed unfamiliar, and kept moaning at every instance that his father thrust himself unto her. Almost mesmerized at this event, young Nikolai sat silently at the lowest part of the stairs, mute and watching the fascinating occurrence unfolding. He forgot that he was hungry, and knew instantly that this is something much more interesting than food. After all, the sight of his father pushing his penis on an unknown woman on their sofa was something that definitely topped his hunger.

But what bothered Nikolai, or at least a few years after when he looked back on it, was the fact that he knew his father was being unfaithful, screwing another woman on the very couch his parents have picked together—but he found it rather natural. Like an instinctive notion that was human nature. And as he watched them sweating and moaning, all he could really look at was this tattoo on the woman’s right hip, and other than that, everything seemed like a blur.

A few minutes passed and he finally got bored, and so he stood up and went back to his bedroom as quietly as he went down, and pulled the comforter to wrap him in full and went to sleep.

The day after that proved to be much more interesting for young Nikolai. He found that his mother was home; coming in that morning before he woke up, he surmised. He shared breakfast with her, and his father sat beside him reading the morning news like nothing happened the night before. It also struck him that he could look at his mother straight to her eyes and feel nothing, not even guilt for keeping a secret that he should have blurted out on the breakfast table. He felt that, at age six, it was a manly thing to do; if his father seemed okay by it, maybe he should be, too. He sweetly smiled at his mum like a little six year old boy should, and the event passed on like nothing has ever happened. Not even the fact that his mother came in close to when his father was fooling around—it did not help little Nikolai from feeling any guilt nor grudges at all.

All these changed, however, when after a few years, he received a phone call from one of his mother’s friends and gave him the guilt that he should have been carrying. After answering the phone, he went upstairs to call on his mother, to find her nearly naked after coming from the showers. Instantly his mother tried covering herself with a towel and told his son that he would be coming downstairs in a minute, and to tell the caller to wait on the line for a few more moments. He obliged, but not before he caught a glance at his mother’s hips—and there, he found, a tattoo that wasn’t there before. Immediately all that night’s recollections came flooding, and he felt himself redden, like being told of a secret that he wasn’t supposed to know. He ran all the way to his room leaving the caller hanging, and the whole time, he stared at the ceiling. Come dinner, he never came downstairs to eat.

He didn’t know exactly what to make of that sight. He understood, of course, that the woman his father was having sex with was his own mother. But it wasn’t this that troubled him—it was, the fact, that all these years he found it natural for his father to fool around, and when that thought was invalidated by the tattoo on his mother’s hips, he found himself not comprehending how his father could have feelings and lust over the same woman he has been with for more than 30 years and still have that same feeling renewed till they grew old. Nikolai never encountered any other instances of his father having any affairs, no; it somehow disappointed him. Years later his mother would tell him about the tattoo which she got after coming from Italy, and he would remember feigning surprise and interest, but he knew much more history than they really let on, and more guilt than he would ever let them know.

There was only one tender moment that Nikolai remembers having with a woman his whole life. Actually, it was really the most genuine moment he ever had with anybody outside his family, and it took him more than so many years to get over that simple small night which he has let his defences down, and nobody, except for Nikolai, knew.

Her name was Asher. She was a very slight girl who lived only with her sisters as her parents were overseas since she was twelve. She lived in a town far from where their school was, really, but due to tradition, she went to their high school and graduated there, the last in her family.

It was not love at first sight, Nikolai would claim, but in truth, Nikolai didn’t know it was love when he felt a small dip in the pit of his stomach when he saw Asher on the first day of classes with those white headphones on, a pink star in each of them. She wasn’t as gorgeous as some of the other girls, Nikolai noted, but there was something to her that stood out. And that was saying much as she was rather small, petite; with her long black hair covering much of her face. She had a very soft form of lips that would soon give troubles to his puberty stage; as if they weren’t really capable of a frown. At that time, she was mouthing the words to a song blasting on her headset, and Nikolai could make out the words:

“Did you realize, no one can see inside your view / Did you realize, for why this sight belongs to you”

It excited the hell out of him. A strange, delicate girl singing to Portishead! He was torn between approaching or giggling in his seat had the professor not asked them to settle down; but Asher was marked, that he knew.

There were a lot they shared together, in all the four years of high school. Outside the campus they would share smokes, swap LPs, and in their spare time, even make each other mix tapes of random bands that only them knew. MTV was common, and he always made a point to go to her house and watch TV with her, even slept over a couple of times. He learned that she was hard headed and rather strong with her personality; never backing down and always wanted to be treated as one of the boys in some ways; he got around to that by simply treating her as his best friend. But not once did Nikolai attempt to really court her. Asher was almost an idol, a perfect goddess for him; and though the fact that they virtually shared lives together and could not bear to be apart, he almost couldn’t imagine courting her in that sense; he still felt too boring and somehow…inadequate.

But there was an unspoken understanding between them, something unconfirmed but existing. And Nikolai was happy with that. It was Asher and him, and nothing else.

Until graduation came.

There was something in Asher’s eyes on the day that they were supposed to fit their togas. They were shifty, and Nikolai hated it; he couldn’t bear to see them troubled. Those eyes were very much adored, and it didn’t seem fitting that they were laced with worry; which was why he immediately knew something was wrong. I have something to tell you, Asher began, but they got cut off by the toga maker. They never got to talk that afternoon.

Nikolai knew. Somehow, he was born with this gut feeling of knowing when something was wrong, when someone wasn’t for him, when something was about to end. That night, he took his dad’s car out and went over to Asher’s, and they lay on the bed in silence watching an old film on. She was snuggled close, and although Asher hated being hugged, Nikolai pulled her close, and stayed close that way till the morning came. He kept kissing her temples every time, and he just wouldn’t let go—he hated it, he hated his all four years of not being able to do anything and he hated this imminent feeling of loss. And when he finally couldn’t help himself, after ensuring Asher was deep asleep, he cried on her temples.

The next day, she told him she was going to the US. She didn’t even attend the graduation rites anymore. And Nikolai had the worst face in the entire graduating batch.

Nikolai knew it was wrong. Nikolai knew he really shouldn’t be doing it out of the fact that it would be much like losing his dignity—his pride—and that is all that’s left of him, really. But Nikolai knew, deep down, that it’s now or never, and never was an option he didn’t want to go for.

He nervously paced back and forth, mumbling something that seemed incoherent but was really the address of the same house he was standing in front of. Her room was located on the back part of the house, and god knows how he could go there without being seen. He looked at the house again. It was 4:06am, and it had only a few house bulbs on, but it was practically serene. He went back to pacing. He groped for the box on his back pocket and pulled out a cigarette, paused, then put it back again. He has been doing that 40 minutes since he got there, but he was worried that he might end up smoking the whole pack the moment he started on it, so he fought hard not to. It was enough that he was pale; he didn’t want to lose his breath as well.

He looked at the house again. He was wondering whether he should call, but after going a few miles out there, he realized that it completely defeated the purpose. He was a fucking alpha male, he could do this. He should take it as a sign that no patrol cars have even gone around the area for the past hour—that should give him ample time. He looked around for safety measures, then in a snap, he quickly went to the wall on the side of the house. He banked on his mild atrocity instinct and adrenaline, plus high hopes that nobody would report a break in. He didn’t have the time to inspect the place before, but somehow, he found a way to climb the wall—withstanding the bruises and scrapes—and made it inside the front yard. He went around the house in sleuth, tried to remember what the view was when he was inside her room before, then finally, located the window of her room.

And he stood there, realizing he was in a stump. What now?

He took a huge breath, then jumped on his place to cut down his agitation. It’s worth it. I don’t care, she’s worth it.

And so he did a usual Romeo and looked for stones.

It took a few taps. He didn’t want to silently shout, so he just kept throwing the pebbles. Soon, he saw a figure come through the window, peeking, then a lamp went on. The window opened.

“Holy fuck. Nick?”

“Yeah. Uh…hi.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” she was obviously trying to control screaming.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What time is it?!”

“Please?”

“Good god, Nick. What is it?”

“Well, I was hoping you could come down here.”

“You could have just called me up!”

“Well, I have to tell it to you now. Like, in person. Or it’s never going to be worth anything if I don’t.”

“Jesus Christ. Let me get you inside.”

“No, no. Please. Just…can you come down here? I don’t want to wake up anybody else.” I don’t want to wake up your sister, he almost added, but it might get her upset.

It took some seconds. “Fine,” she said resignedly, then she disappeared from the window. It felt like it took years before she got downstairs. When she did, she was in a bathrobe, and rubbing her arms due to the cold. He remembered that it’s almost the Christmas season.

“Wow. You look amazing.”

“It’s a bathrobe, Nick.”

So much for small talk.

“So?” She impatiently asked. Her skin glowed white in the dark, almost luminous. But it was nothing compared to her eyes which were still a fiery copper in the glint of the small light nearby. Copper. He remembered how she was nick-named after that color because of her eyes. It was an attribute he loved but never told her about.

He looked at those pair of eyes. He remembered how wicked they could always look when she’s playful yet still very warm, especially when she smiles. He realized that that’s what he wanted to see every day, really…and it gave him the boost he needed.

“Cop, I don’t think there would be an easy way to say this, so please bear with me for now, okay?” He was relieved to find not much change in her expression. “Look, I know it’s hard. I know it was rather stupid. And like Jen has told me before, it would be easier for me because I don’t live in the same household as your sister, and I wouldn’t be the one to look into her eyes at breakfast everyday.

“I know you love her, Cop. And as much as I know it’s impossible because I wouldn’t have met you if it weren’t for her, but I wish I didn’t meet Hannah before you. If I didn’t break her heart, I would have gone on enjoying each and every moment with you more. I’m sorry it didn’t work out between Hannah and I and for a moment I kind of really thought it would. And I wanted a new start with you but I know we kind of started out wrong even if it felt right…well, at least you felt right. And, truthfully, I don’t know with you. And I don’t really know what you want to do with me. I know you need space, and I know you feel we’re better off apart, but lame as it sounds, I went all the way here just to tell you that I don’t believe that. That truthfully, I miss you and the things we do and how you make me smile and how your eyes laugh and how it makes my day okay just seeing you even if there are a dozen more guilt which come with it. But looking at you, it makes me feel like everything is going to be alright—and I feel it’s something I could do for many more years. And yes, I feel I don’t really have much pride left now, but I don’t think I care about that as much as I care more about getting this message across.

“If you don’t want me anymore, that’s okay. Well, no, it’s not okay, really, but I’ll let you go because I know it would be harder for you if I don’t. But at least I need you to be aware that I’m fighting for this. And that deep down, I want us. And I need you to know that—that the idea of us is something that would keep me going for a long time. “

There. Nikolai has finally rambled on with everything without having to say I am in love with you, and possibly, I love you.

Copper didn’t say anything—and Nikolai felt she knew she’s not supposed to say anything. And for the last time for that season, Copper lovingly placed her hand on Nikolai’s face and gave him a longing kiss—then went inside the house.

And there, that one last act, marked Nikolai’s season ender.

So I woke up with yet another scent on my nose-is that floral? I didn’t bother knowing anymore; the headache lingering is enough to make me wonder what where and why the fuck and all the unanswerable shiznits. I manage to look around with eyes half open, and nothing is recognizable. I see skin and hair; I assume I’m snuggled on someone else’s nape. I see white sheets, soft pink comforter and pillows, and other colorful decorations I can’t even begin to describe around the walls. Hello Kitty perched beside a table lampshade perked me up.

She must have sensed me moving so she slowly faced me, eyes half open. She had a small smile on her face-almost sweet, if it weren’t for the fact that the sweat on my chest right now still has markings of what transpired the night before. I could almost feel me harden when her naked skin brushed unto mine; but it’s enough, methinks. I smile a lazy smile, trying to return the same enthusiasm, then I place a small kiss on her lips.

Mmmm, she moaned, and she looked at me dreamily, and it almost breaks my heart to leave her in that state, but just before I was about to open my mouth to say thanks for the night, she goes, “You gotta go?” And she says that almost like as a statement, and for the first time, I ran out of sweet words to counter, so I just nod my head uncomfortably.

She smiles like as if she has had every man give her that very same confused look, then turns her back against me and snuggles to her pillow. “Just close the door, yeah?” And Just like that, I was rooted on my space of the bed, unable to move. But someone’s gotta go, and I can’t make her, so I slowly move out, look for my jeans and gingerly put on my striped top. No underwear for me tonight.

I move close to her and I hesitate, unsure whether or not a good bye kiss is appropriate. I settle for the cheeks. She grabs my collar and pulls me closer and we kiss, and there, hello, confidence. I smile goodbye, and she does, too, and just before I leave the room, I can see her already closing her eyes.





God, why don’t you make enough girls like that?





“Oy, two of those lamb toppings, yeah? And do you have beer?”

“It’s fucking six in the morning, Neeko. Why don’t you give your liver a rest?” And Harry the most unhygienic cook pours a mixture of noodles and whatnots in my bowl, then places two slices of lamb. I scratch two chopsticks in my palm then tap them on the table, then I start on the meat. Heavenly.

I love Harry’s joint. It’s just this small corner near the chinatown avenue and we all know he’s selling fake chinese stuff and neither is he chinese, but nobody complains. You sit there, and you eat, and if you’re lucky, you’re Harry’s bestfriend for the day. I’m always his best friend at this hour. Very few people eating, mostly early workers, and I’m the only one with the disheveled hair and without a bath. But Harry already knows that.

“So.”

“So?”

His eyes bulge like an impatient six year old. “So? Who is it this time?”

I pause while chewing on the noodles. I think really hard.

Harry looks at me incredulously. “Aww, you fucking bastard. You don’t even remember the name!”

I swallow before laughing. “I don’t even know her name.”

“What?!” And just like that Harry hits me in the head. Man, don’t I fucking deserve that. “You are fucking full of shit, Nikolai. You’re just cock and no balls, mate.”

“I am all balls and a huge cock, thank you very much. Just that my balls like the squeezing, not the remembering is all.”

“Oh you fucker. If I had a daughter you are not going absolutely near her. Not at all, you son of a bitch.”

“Hey, hey, Harry. Hasn’t happened yet; don’t get all too worked up, yeah?”

Harry shakes his head in what I think may be half amusement and half maybe disgust, but he’s still with a penis and we all know where that still leads to. I finish the remaining soup, pull out a few bills and coins, then slam it on the counter. I pick up a stick from the box near his food display and light it up, savoring both a mixture of the lamb and the sweet sweet smoke playing in my tongue. I rest my ass on the counter near where Harry keeps his dishes, and I stay there, slouched. Harry never bothers to rat on me anymore; I’m his most interesting customer, I think, as much as he’s my most favorite dirty food vendor. It even gives me goosebumps seeing him clean the counters like what he’s doing right now; like as if it wasn’t really like him to clean up.

Harry is mostly in his fifties, I think; balding but full of facial hair. Kinda wonder whether he looks at the mirror sometimes and wish if all those could simply just go to the top. I love Harry. He has a lot of stories unlike mine, and although I am yet to learn from him, at least, there’s a huge chance I might in the future when I’m balding and have lots of facial hair.

“You know,” he said almost pensively after the last few wipes, “I do hope one of these days your deeds won’t backfire on you.”

“Yeah,” I say, and I finish my smoke with a flick unto the street. “I mean, it WILL hurt if they won’t remember my name, either.”

“No, seriously, lad. All these things you’re doing, there has to be something to it. After all, it won’t be fair, would it?”

I brush my hands heavily unto my head and screw my hair more in an attempt to fix it. I have to ALWAYS look scruffy. Well, at least it silently implies to strangers I just either got up or got laid. I look at Harry and he’s leaning unto the counter, staring at me like my father would have if he found out about this—except he prolly would have said good job.

“Don’t worry, Harry. When that time comes,” and I get off his counter and start to walk with a small smirk on my face, “I promise not to come near your daughter.”

“Fuck you lad. But good luck.” And he shakes his head while I start walking unto the new morning.