Star Tattoo

Langit was putting his shirt back on—the same one that had ended up on the floor. A part of him didn’t want to go home, yet he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving his mother alone in the apartment, possibly worrying about him even now.

The woman who had just made love with him sat on the bed, the blanket wrapped around her bare body. She watched the broad back of the man who had sent her soaring into bliss.

“El, why did you tattoo a star on your back?” she asked when she noticed the ink on his shoulder blade.

Langit glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see it, but he knew exactly where it was.

“Because I like stars,” he replied.

“Why?” she asked, curious.

Langit gave a faint, wry smile but chose not to answer her question.

“I have to go,” he said once he had finished getting dressed.

“That’s a shame. I still want to be with you. Maybe sleep together again, have a second round, or even a third,” she teased lightly.

Langit turned and gave a small smile before saying, “I enjoy sex, but that doesn’t mean I’ll do it over and over again in one night.”

His words struck his coworker sharply. He wasn’t a sex addict who needed multiple rounds. He only did it to ease the exhaustion that weighed down his mind—to quiet the longing for a woman he could never have.

Langit drove toward his apartment. He had numerous missed calls from Joya, but he didn’t call her back. He chose to go straight home so his mother wouldn’t worry.

He had placed the star tattoo on his shoulder blade as a reminder that he couldn’t see it himself. Just like his love—he held it in his heart, yet he couldn’t truly see it anymore, hidden beneath irritation and bitterness from the past.

He tried to forget, yet he always carried it with him. His heart and mind were constantly at odds, and even now he didn’t know what he truly wanted.

I keep trying to forget you, even hiding you deep within my heart. But why won’t you leave? Do you intend to keep tormenting me with the hollow love you once spoke of?

**

Joya was frantic. It was already eleven at night, and Langit still hadn’t come home. She was so worried she no longer knew where else to look for her son.

“El, where are you? Why are you stressing Mommy out?” Joya stared at the long list of outgoing calls to her son, none of which had been answered.

Then she heard the sound of the door opening. Joya hurried toward it, hoping it was indeed her son. And it was—Langit walked in and closed the door behind him, smiling when he saw his mother’s anxious expression.

“Where were you? Why are you coming home at this hour?” Joya asked, her voice full of worry.

“Out with a friend, Mom,” Langit replied casually.

He approached his mother and kissed her cheek with his usual sweet smile.

“El, are you drunk?” Joya asked when she smelled alcohol on his breath.

“I only had a little, Mom. If I were drunk, I wouldn’t have made it home,” he said lightly.

He took off his jacket and tie, then headed to the bathroom to wash away the remnants of his heated encounter.

Joya was at a loss for words. Langit’s behavior and dismissive attitude toward her left her exhausted.

“You don’t want Mommy here, do you, El?” she said as she watched him about to enter the bathroom.

Langit stopped walking, then turned toward her. Seeing her sad expression, he walked back to her. He couldn’t stand seeing his mother look like that.

“Why would you say that, Mom?” he asked, standing before her, looking at her tear-filled eyes.

“Of course Mommy would say that. You come home late, you drink, you sleep around. You don’t want to come home with me. Mommy feels like you’re ignoring me, El. Mommy worries about you because I love you. But you don’t care about Mommy. If one day you’re here, and Mommy is gone—don’t blame yourself.”

Joya was truly frustrated. Her husband had also been a former playboy, but not like her son, who indulged in women carelessly. She no longer understood how heartbreak could turn her son into someone like this.

“Sometimes Mommy doesn’t understand. You love so deeply, yet you don’t fight for it—you ruin yourself instead. Doesn’t that make you the same as her? You say you love her, but you give up just like that. You’re being a coward, not like your daddy. He waited five years for Mommy, and even then he didn’t become like this. He improved himself and proved to Mommy that he deserved her.”