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.

A bar. A pub. A few months after. She was with she who will never be named, because doing so will be to commercialize what’s essential. She will simply be, The Gift From Heaven Above.

But TGFHA is the was but never will be. And Trager knew that. And so, with a little bit of a heart wound and some colds to bear with, she set it out some place after work that she last remembered spending some great and precious time with TGFHA with, and simply BE—the hardest thing she had to deal with for the past few months. Not just with TGFHA, but some other people. Like maybe The One She Couldn’t Get Over With Because She Was Almost Perfect.

“Up till now you’re still labelling me?” TGFHA asked at one time while they were talking over the phone. And she couldn’t help it. Really, it was something she did to maybe understand people more. Now, she’s in this place a few kilometres away from the city, and TGFHA has become The Girl Who Was Inevitable But Not For Her, and Trager was somehow perfectly fine with it. But for tonight, she was TGFHA.

They talked. Trager showed her around like it was their first time. She brought TGFHA to this place that reminded her of TOSCGOWBSWAP, because it was a nickname she was christened with. Tonight, Trager thought, it would be about first times. First stories after a few months; first laughter after a few months; first new store experience I brought her to after a few months. That was what she always used to love about TGFHA, everything always seemed like the first time.

Then, it hit her. Trager found something, brought it to the counter, then paid for it within 5 minutes.

+++

“Hi! I’m not available right now, so please leave a message after the beep.”

*Beep*

“Hi! Listen. This is, well, uh…Trager. I’m sure you know who I am. But, listen. I found this comic book. You used to tell me how you said you wanted to have a copy of that. I mean, you used to tell me about wanting to have a copy of books you read about, and then I figured, it’s probably a territorial thing. I dunno. But, I found it. I’m sure you would have bought a copy. I mean, it’s just a few dollars, really. And compared to the other things you wanted to buy, this is pretty cheap.

“But listen. I don’t know. I’m sure you’re very happy right now. I should be, too. Because that’s what people try to do after a few weeks of pretending. But I found this very small comic book and I remembered you and it wasn’t precisely in my budget and I wasn’t really thinking about my budget at all, I was thinking about you. And…how I could connect to you. Because all this time, I really wanted to say Hi and I Miss You, and I kind of want to speak to you and talk to you and all those things but I’m kind of stuck on ensuring that I make it seem that I have moved on. But I bought it. I bought that comic book tonight. You’re probably out there having a good time, and I am, really. I mean, I’m with TGFHA but you’re TOSCGOWBSWAP, so I don’t know exactly what that makes you in my life, really, but truthfully, I miss you. I want to go out there, make it happen, go over to wherever you are be it in that god forsaken hundred miles away from here place you sleep at, but god, what I wouldn’t give to have that one more look into your eyes and kiss you and hug you and stay close and not really tell you I love you because that’s kind of spooky even if it feels almost a little right. But I really meant to say…I don’t know. I…well.

“But you know? I’m sure you’re okay right now. I’m sure you don’t miss me. You go ahead. And…oh. The comic? A little fun. But…nothing like what I kind of expected.”

*if you want to save this message, press 1. If you want to erase this message, press 2*

*tooot*

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.

There are so much you can do with space, Trager would learn. For one, in the middle of the night, you can run over to an old building where you used to live, and, while packing up on some old things you used to cherish, you can spend more time being idle—a luxury you never get on weekdays, but only on very few chosen moments such as this.

She has always been nocturnal. It was something she realized when back in her early elementary days, she would wake up in the middle of the night, straining herself to see whatever her father was watching on the telly just because she couldn’t sleep. Of course, her father would not understand that his only daughter is developing early signs of insomnia, but as a dutiful parent, it was his job to keep watch by opening the telly and sticking to it. Random sounds of rustling coming from her bedroom would be ignored, while she keeps herself amused while awake.

Twenty or so years later when she would find herself moving and alone in the metro, she would still nurture those old habits albeit without sleuth. This time, no father would be there to tell her off, and so what she would do is to go around, marvel at the lights alone, and love the metro in her own way. Tonight, the metro found her on the floor of a unit she used to adore. It was there that she made love to the world, gazed at cars wheezing past the highway, met new friends, brought new people, had her heart broken, learned to cope. She has customized it to her own want, and yet, after a few months, she would find her self needing to leave the place. It would teach her the ultimate truth about the universe: nothing, and nothing, is constant. And permanent. She learned to be a waif.

She slept in the afternoon and woke up at night automatically. She decided to leave her new place and run to this old unit, the only place she felt most at home. She had a very simple motivation in mind to go here, really: to get an old spare necklace chain from her stash that she left here. She found it, removed a specific pendant from her dog tag that she always wears with her, then gave it a new home. There were still some old clothes she hasn’t packed up, so she plucked an old racerback from the pile, went downstairs, bought beers. After closing the door, she striped down to a near bare, opened a can. She sat on the floor for a while; her laptop playing random songs from the playlist. And that was it: underwear, random songs, beer, and the pendant in its new neck chain home. Those were her essentials. She took a swig from her can of beer, lay on the floor, lit a cigarette and lay down, with the pendant cold on her chest. And it was, as she predicted, comfortable. She was the whore of the night, but no eyes could see, except for the wind, the lights, the unit, the beers, the lit cigarette on her lips.

Temporary. Temporarily, these are her lovers. Tomorrow, would be another day, she thought. Tomorrow, she’d be the office whore, with her work as her lovers. Tomorrow she would have random people with busy lives passing by her and they all commune in busy silence. Tomorrow would be different, she knew.

Today, she’s just Temporary’s bitch. And they’ll make love till she’s exhausted. And she’ll pull herself up, dust herself off, and assume another mask that would not be recognizable except only by those she would allow. And that’s her. But tonight, she’s just another vulnerable lover.