A Dank Room

short fiction

The day she and her mother engaged in a fight on account of her acquisition of a pierced nose, Martha lost her virginity. It wasn’t just a fight, it was the fight of fights. Mrs. Tecson started by saying "What did I ever do to deserve this?" and Martha, smart-alecky towards her mother as always, said "You deserve everything." Then they went on with a raised-voice debate about the role of children toward their parents against the role of parents toward their children. It was Martha who seemed victorious in the end, as after she accused her mother of being a lousy parent -- saying that no mother should think her child owes her life to her, as no child ever asked to be born, especially that being born means enduring every hour in this horrible planet, and that she really shouldn’t try to dictate her actions, especially if such actions aren’t so harmful like getting one’s nose pierced -- her mother slouched in a chair and broke into quaking sobs. Martha immediately left upon seeing her mother cry and met with a guy named Ted Baylon.

The first thing one would notice about Ted is that, virile as he is, he is five feet and two inches tall. One could not immediately tell he is hunky and muscular and satisfactorily vain, because he is five-two, a midget, a bonsai of a man. Martha, unfortunately, happened to be physically attracted to the little guy. Nice physique and wheels, she had often told her friends.

They met at six in the evening, thirty minutes after Martha texted Ted about wanting some company, with the residue of Martha’s rage towards her mother still fresh in her that she would at intervals find herself balling her fingers to tight fists. They had KFC for dinner and, at Martha’s request, watched a Rated R movie after that. It was also her idea that they drive up to the mountains after the movie -- to watch the "city lights," she said.

Watching the "city lights" below them, at about ten-thirty or so, Martha marveled that for something bursting with all sorts of noise and movement, the city could be silenced by distance. "Up here," Martha thought, "cold and foggy as the mind of a furious young adult, are sexual beings. We could do all sorts of noise and movement here and my mother will not know of a single thing." Martha looked at Ted out of the corner of her eye and did not decide against "accidentally" brushing her fingers with his. Then, annihilating whatever it was that had stopped them from it, they kissed, freshly, awkwardly. Martha ran her fingers inside Ted’s shirt and whispered: "Let’s get inside the car."

---

"I’m not bleeding. Why am I not bleeding?" Martha said. She was sitting beside Ted at the back seat, blanketing her sweat-moist upper body with his shirt. It was her fourth tissue and she worried why she has not dabbed on even a little sign of blood. "And is semen really this slimy?"

"Yes, semen is that slimy," said Ted, pulling on his underwear. "And stop worrying why you aren’t bleeding. That is not unusual."

"How would you know? You’ve slept with a lot of virgins?" said Martha, putting her bra back on.

Ted jerked his head towards her and said flatly, "Eight out of the twelve of them were virgins, incidentally."

"So I was the eighth virgin?" Martha looked away, watching blankly the blue-black sky through the tinted car window to her right. She wondered where the ghosts of stratus clouds that had been thick earlier dissolved to.

"No, ninth. Nine out of thirteen." He tittered. "You’re lucky number thirteen!"

---

The bleeding came, in torrents, during Martha’s second time, with a guy named Antonio Perez on top of her.

"Is this your first time?" Antonio enquired, having noticed the flow of blood and Martha’s agonized expression. His thrusting had become slow and irregular, as though he was still deciding whether he should stop or not.

"Second time," Martha retorted in a whisper. "I thought this wouldn’t nearly hurt as bad as the first."

Antonio disengaged himself from Martha and rolled on his back.

"What’s the matter? You don’t want to anymore?" Martha sounded concerned.

Antonio ineptly stared at the ceiling. "You’re bleeding. I’ll go get a towel." He went to the bathroom and came back handing Martha a towel.

As soon as they were fully dressed, sitting on either side of the bed, an ear-splitting silence grew between them. Antonio interrupted it by asking, "Why don’t we have some coffee you and I?"

---

Antonio Perez and Martha Tecson were classmates during their first two years in college. In that supposedly sufficient amount of time they hadn’t managed to get close with each other, despite the fact that from afar, Antonio admired Martha. Martha had never bothered to give Antonio a proper glance. All she took Antonio for were the last-minute notes he lent her before exams. Martha hadn't even noticed right away that Antonio had transferred to another school in their third year.

A good observer can say that Antonio Perez and Ted Baylon are exact opposites, if one should actually care comparing the two. In height, Antonio towers a fantastic five-eleven. He doesn’t have a car. He is lighter-complexioned than Ted, but he doesn’t have the washboard abs nor the bulge of gym-developed biceps. He is slender and tight as a ballet dancer, and Martha hadn’t expected liking it upon seeing him out of his clothes.

Martha and Antonio had met that afternoon, at about one o’clock, in the mall. Martha was faring through a tight crowd that was mobbing a celebrity when Antonio flicked her on the back. "Hey!" he greeted, beaming a boyish smile.

"Hey!" Martha greeted back. "Long time!"

"Yeah. Long time. How are you?" At that point Antonio was pushed hard against Martha. They had gotten deep inside the crowd of hysterical Jericho Rosales fans.

"I’m great." Martha sniffed and was surprised to note that Antonio didn’t smell of anything, not of splash cologne, not even of sour sweat. He smelt like a baby. This gave Martha an idea. "Hey, would you like to get out of here and have some Quickly?"

---

"Do you really like him?" Antonio asked Martha. They had both gotten to his boarding house, finishing the Quickly that they took out earlier that afternoon. It was at Martha’s request that they both went to his boarding house -- to check out his plates, she said. Antonio has long aspired to become an architect, that is why he shifted from Med Tech to Architecture. Martha admired Antonio’s balls for having stood up to his parents to follow his dream.

"Who?" Martha asked back, leafing through his works. "Wow! Nice one," she said to herself, intentionally making it seem as if she were saying it to herself. She thought Antonio’s plates were awful.

"Echo."

Martha laughed out loud. "Hell no! I was there to spit in his face."

Antonio laughed back.

"Well, how about you? Why were you there? You’re an Echo fan, aren’t you?" Martha asked, mockingly, still pretending to be admiring leaf after leaf of Antonio’s plates.

"Hell no. I went there because I saw you."

"Really." Martha put the papers down and looked at him straight in the eye. She noticed he was much better-looking up close.

"Really." Antonio’s Adam’s apple slid up then down, accompanied by a faint sound of his gulp.

---

The afternoon they spent together at the coffee shop was one of the finest afternoons Martha spent with anybody -- that was how she described it in her journal. Martha felt she was the funniest girl in the world talking with Antonio. He was so responsive to her wits and he manifested it by stretching his lips -- lips reddened by the warmth of coffee -- to a heartening convex. Antonio’s smile was painfully wonderful to ogle at. The whole time Martha’s face felt ruddy and warm.

"Any chance we’re finishing what we started this afternoon?" Martha finally couldn’t help asking it. She figured whatever answer Antonio would give her wouldn’t devastate her in any way. She thought his smile would make up for anything.

"Maybe. But not too soon." Antonio smiled again. "You’re spellbinding, Martha. You’re different from all the other girls I’ve known."

Martha was at a loss for words.

---

"T’was fuckin’ corny and you fuckin’ bought it?" Amanda said, casually, to Martha, while blowing an elegant train of smoke. Martha’s friend always has this overflowing confidence in her that makes all the sentences she says seem to sound like "How you fuckin’ doing, brotha?"

"Well, I thought it was sweet. Nobody’s ever told me anything like it before."

The very next day that Martha hung out with Antonio and had her second time, she went to Amanda’s house. Amanda has always been Martha’s confidante, and Martha Amanda’s. Right away after Martha went home from having her first time with Ted, Martha called Amanda over the telephone. She confided that it wasn’t as ecstatically sensational as it was described to be, and that if anything, it was painful, and that it scared her that she didn’t bleed -- the sight of blood would have pleased her, as it indicated she has crossed that border. Amanda said that she didn’t bleed herself during her first time and convinced Martha that it’s going to get really good in time, and in no time she’ll be wanting it everyday, the way the former has been wanting it each day after her third time with her quasi-boyfriend.

"You’re fuckin’ crazy and you make me fuckin’ puke." Amanda said.

Martha absently stood up and went for the door.

"Where the fuck do you think you’re going?" said Amanda, irritated.

"I’m making peace with my mother." Martha gave a nun’s smile. "I haven’t spoken to her in three weeks," she said before she closed the door behind her.

---

Ice cream, that was how it felt like. Everything about the day felt like ice cream. It was sweltering hot, but all noon Martha felt like she has ice cream on her tongue. While everyone around her cussed about being sticky and uneasy, she thanked God for everything feeling like ice cream. The jeepney ride she took to get to Antonio’s boarding house felt like a sleigh ride, and she wondered why all the other passengers’ faces looked disfigured.

That morning, Martha woke up to Antonio’s text message saying that if she could, she might want to drop by his place so he could show her the new plates he made. Martha promptly replied by saying she was going to be there in a jiffy. She immediately showered and wore her favorite blouse and skirt and didn’t even breakfast. At twelve-thirty she was knocking on Antonio’s door.

"You look like you’re in a good mood," Antonio said as soon as he opened the door. He looked like he has just taken a bath, fresh and ready for anything.

"Shouldn’t I be?" Martha smiled and entered, affecting Antonio’s nose with Hugo Red as she passed. She sat on his bed. Only then did she notice that Antonio was in a foul mood. "Anything the matter?" she said affectionately.

He sat beside her, leaning forward and covering his eyes with his hand. "I didn't know it was going to be this hard."

She raised her hand and placed it on his back. Then her fingers went to his nape and started massaging him. "What’s going on?"

It took him a while before he raised his head to face her. His face was so close to hers that Martha thought it would be insane if they didn’t kiss.

Minutes later, Martha began to understand why Amanda had told her she was going to be wanting it everyday.

---

Her head was on his chest, her fingers playfully running on the smooth surface. Martha was spent, having felt sensation after unimaginable sensation. "So tell me what’s going on. Maybe I could help you out."

Antonio sighed. "I’ll be fine."

Martha raised her head and saw that Antonio was still at an emotional ebb. "Come on, Ton, you have to tell me."

Antonio only closed his eyes and shook his head.

She rested her head back on his chest and thought how difficult it was to penetrate into this guy. For a moment she felt like getting all hysterical to ask for his heart and soul. She laughed out loud, picturing how Amanda would righteously enunciate "You fuckin’ loser" to her. She raised her head again and saw that Antonio hadn’t heard her laugh, as he had fallen asleep. She kissed his nipple before dozing off herself.

---

They were both awakened by the sound of a cellphone ringing. Antonio jolted. It was his phone.

Martha sat up as Antonio answered his phone.

"Hi," he said in a weak voice.

Martha watched Antonio. His lips were starting to stretch back to that heartening convex, and in a little while he was full of life. "Yes, yes," he said. "Yes... Okay... Four o’clock... Okay... See ya." He hung up.

"My, my. Look who’s loving life now..." Martha said cheerily. She felt very pleased seeing Antonio looking happy.

Antonio couldn’t stop smiling. "I know, I know."

"Who was that then?"

"My girlfriend. She’s not mad at me anymore." He stood up, excitedly, and scampered around the room like a toddler in a playground. He started picking up their clothes, throwing at Martha hers and putting on his. "We should go now. I am meeting up with her in thirty minutes." He went to her and kissed her on the forehead. "Thanks for the wonderful time."

Martha smiled. She began to realize what an awful room it was that they were in. "This room’s pretty dank," she told him. "Small and dank."

"Huh?" Antonio looked at her, confounded.

"Is this what inspired you in making all those plates?" She gave him a nun’s smile.

Antonio only looked at her, devoid of any sort of apprehension.

"I’ll wait for you outside, okay?" she said. She stood up and left the room fixing her skirt. As soon as she got out she dialed Ted’s number. "Hello, Ted? Hi. I was just wondering, are you free tonight? How would you like to drive up to the mountains again?"

END