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Twenty Nine
c a t h e r i n e
The Archive’s doorknob turned open and next was the silent creak of the door widening until it revealed Vernon. I frantically wiped away my tears as I felt him walk towards me.
“It’s all fine now, seriously. You can leave.” I dismissed him soon as he got closer.
But what did I expect? He heard nothing of it and slumped down on the floor beside me instead. To my surprise, he was carrying a first aid kit. I ignored the tug at my heartstring driven by that small gesture.
“What is that?” I asked the obvious.
“Yeah, uh, I dashed to the clinic before going here. I stole this.” He raised the kit proudly.
I looked at him incredulously.
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Euphoria Thirty
c a t h e r i n e “Sylvia, I said I don’t want to!” I cried helplessly. The woman before me, Sylvia, looked as equally distressed as I am. Her wrinkled forehead scrunched up, making her desperation evident behind the well-blended make-up. She paced back and forth in the narrow room. Her hand kept landing on her wide hips back to her forehead, all in sync with her exasperated sighs. Along with her pace was the bounce of her luscious mane that is now dyed dark blonde. She had the sexiness of a Latina woman which she had so often taken to her advantage. To my estimate, she’s in her fifties but nevertheless, displays the sophistication of a 30-year old. Only that her false youth seems to leave her sometimes, especially in stressful situations like this. “Cariño.” In her mell
Euphoria Thirty One
v e r n o n After helping her heal her self-harm wounds in the library, Catherine went back to giving me the cold shoulder. I don’t know what I did wrong. I didn’t even ask her about what triggered her panic attack or self-harm tendencies because I respected her boundaries. I only offered help. Yet after that, she became aloof again that I couldn’t help calculating my past actions. Our last conversation would so often ring in my ears. “I’ll ask for it if I need it.” She bid coldly before leaving me in the library. Since then, we never interacted again for almost a week. I have been skipping most of my classes, like usual. Most days I could not make it to class because I’m too stoned to function. B
Euphoria Thirty Two
c a t h e r i n e “Where are you bringing me this time?” I yelled amid the blaring traffic before us. From the train station, we battled the bustling roads of the district and now, we’re still walking, headed somewhere uncertain. Early at 7 in the evening, the bigger part of Jung District, despite its small population, witnesses the usual buzz of a small city--the rush hour, the back and forth of the people, and the high level of dust in the air. “We’re already near.” For the first time, Vernon bothered to stop in his tracks and wait for me. The Spring air blew and the few cherry blossoms that lined up on the road showered their pink petals. Along with that was the rustle of the golden strands on Vernon’s forehead, giving me the ample view of
Euphoria Thirty Three
v e r n o n I watched the momentarily shift of Catherine’s demeanor. She stood before me, completely struck and suddenly absent-minded. It seemed as though she didn’t know how to react to my stupid confession. I wanted to take that as a good thing but the lack of emotion from her now makes me think I should have not said anything. I could barely hear the traffic before us over the heartbeats banging in my chest. In my attempt to fight off the sudden awkwardness, I cleared my throat. “You were asking so—” My words were interrupted. “Yeah. I mean—” she paused awkwardly too. I was ready to talk again until she continued, completely rejecting whiche
Euphoria Thirty Four
c a t h e r i n e The next weekend, I found myself in the same tight dress and voluminous fake scarlet hair. I stood in the chaotic beer and sweat-stained reek of the strip club. The strobe lights are glimmering in neon and dark red along with the deafening party music and cheers. As usual, weekends witness the biggest flock of customers. I may have slowly gotten accustomed to this environment the longer that I worked here but to my eyes, the varied customers that patronize the illegal prostitution in the club never fail to surprise me. You’d see them in different ages, colors, attires, and obviously different socio-economic statuses. It surprises every time high-class men would pay to watch a girl strip before them. The other night, a rich businessman came to hire an escort. The other, a local politician, paid a girl to t
Euphoria Thirty Five
c a t h e r i n e The huge expanse of his chest occupied my vision. Had I not stopped abruptly, I would’ve clashed with him. My lips parted for a protest but his hand quickly landed on my forearm. His force was too strong. Before I could find the courage to look up at his face, he dragged me towards a far corner, leaving the busy tables behind. While panting from our sudden drift, I managed to glance at him. Vernon’s intense glare was immeasurable in the shadows. And although the club is noisy, I could feel the violence of his sporadic breaths. I felt too small under his gaze. I was frozen and tongue-tied, my head’s haywire and my heart a stone, I could not think nor feel anything. The humiliation, the fear, the regret-- all were too immense that I was left with numbness. “What are you d
Euphoria Thirty Six
v e r n o n “Do you still like me?” Her question rang in my ears.I swallowed a bitter bile in my throat. How ironic is that, to ask me as if I’ve ever stopped. As I ever could.“No.” I said, staying eye to eye with the ceiling. My voice, deep and tremulous, almost revealed the unconcealable truth.No. I no longer like her. Like is too shallow a word compared to what I behold for her.“Oh, okay.” Catherine uttered too softly, unconcerned but almost dismayed.I took a sharp inhale. My chest’s a thousand-pound heavy. The atmosphere around is blanketed in intensity that I couldn’t gather my wits. Maybe it’s the sanguine luminescence in the red-dimmed room that is intended to be lusty but instead is waking all of my caged feelings for her. Red with her is not the color of lust nor danger or heat but of intense passion, and god knows how
Euphoria Thirty Seven
v e r n o nWinter vacation in 11th grade, a common friend of mine, Junhoe, hosted a house party. The usual hype and chaos blared in his living room, his random guests were flooding in as the night loomed. It was cold and there was a warning of storm but it did not stop everyone’s thirst for booze, and perhaps some make out session. It’s the first day of vacation which explains everyone’s interest for a last get together.Junhoe was a senior who’s currently in 12th grade. He used to be Mark’s batch mate but since the former enjoyed being in 11th grade too much, he did not accelerate as him. It was also through Mark that we became friends.In his dimmed living room that was illumined by some Christmas lights, I stumbled upon Junhoe, automatically exchanging a fist bump.“Hey! Glad you’re here, Vernon. Beer?” He grabbed one from a nearby bucket which
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