Diary 8

He directed his eyes at the far end of the infinite bay as we both stood in silence. The lights from the boats and ships displayed their brilliance. One ship, like a rolling diamond, passed. Our eyes followed it until it disappeared. The silence possessing the night was disturbed by the rustling of palm trees' foliage. The slough of the waves and the chirps of the crickets echoed sound of familiarity. Dark silhouettes were emerging from life-sized canopies. Marching forwards, these shadows extend arms to touch, hold, tap shoulders, and cross. Usually at this time, I choose to leave. This is beyond me now. My hustling is legit, I'd never have sex in perverted parks. I still have a little self respect.

But I cannot leave Roberto here. He needs a friend desperately, I have to protect him.

One of the cruisers walked by. He threw a smile at us. After a few steps, he stopped and turned again, as if anticipating our attraction to his walk or wink or smile and would invite him in the heart of this darkness.

"Hay naku," I heard myself sigh. "Wiz ko type."

Robert giggled.

"Feel mo ba," a gay from somewhere addressed his companion who happened to be a drag queen wearing multi-colored hair ala Cindy Lauper, loose blouse, high heeled shoes, and dangling earrings.

The drag queen threw a woman's laughter. He took a long look at us.

"Of course dahleen. They are not promdis lost here. They are sluts looking for action like the rest of us." He sneered as he pinched the buttocks of his companion.

"Ano ba?" Shouted the other.

"Huwag kang maingay bruha ka," the drag queen said. "Binubulahaw mo ang mga anghel. Mga anghel na malilibog."

A shout was beamed from nowhere.

"Hoy baka mabulunan ka bakla!" followed by heavy laughter.

Then the figures disappeared. Even the canopies stopped fluttering. The insects too seemed to turn quiet.

Now it starts.

The night gains life as more people walk on old tracks on the unpaved perimeter of Lawton. They appeared, disappeared, reappeared. Like ants, they stop for a moment to measure, smell, scrutinize one another. Once mutual attraction is conceived, the two are swallowed by nowhere.

Except me and Robert. We stood alone watching this fancy party of men with assorted looks, wearing varying outfits as they came and went.

Robert was the first to break the silence between us. "I suppose you go to college?" He asked.

"Yes. I am a student." I answered, getting mesmerized by the amount of gay cruisers before us. My eyes followed the steps of a man wearing tight shorts. He looked familiar.

I threw back his question at him. "How about you?"

"I am studying to be a doctor.", he said, in a barely audible response.

"A what?"

He spoke as if eluding an eavesdropper. "I am studying to be... a doctor."

"Really."

Now this is exciting me. Seldom is Manila Bay privileged to have a visitor from a medical school. In the city, Medicine connotes high status, money and good breeding.

"And what does a student-doctor expect from here? Sex organ donations?" I teased.

"I am looking for someone to talk with… Now since you've mentioned that... are you interested to undergo sex transplantation?"

I gave him a smart-alecky look. "That is a baaaad joke! What do you really want to talk about Roberto?" My voice was now serious. I was thinking he must have money!

He spoke again. "Jeff, I want to talk about myself, my world, and all my illusions. You see, I need to face reality. Right now, my fantasy world is about to collapse. 1 need to unmask, while no one sees."

Except me, I guess.

We sat on the grass behind the Film center.

During the day, the lawn appeared light green and warm, at this time I felt the grass blades cold.

I still hoped he would give me five hundred pesos. At least.

"Is it warm?" he asked.

Is it warm my ass, couldn't he tell I've not earned a cent since I've met him? Damn, do I need to explain myself?

I resorted to the crude manner. "Since you are good looking and I know you can afford, before I drop my pants and start doing you let me make it clear I will not take anything below five hundred."

I'd never seen a man get sooooo offended. "You son of a bitch," he said, "Haven't I told you..."

"I know, I know, I was just trying. This is work for me."

He got up. I pulled him back, "I'm sorry. If you wanna talk then talk." I shuddered at the thought of meeting my landlady. I might find my things thrown on the street when I get home.

Regaining his cool, he raised his head towards the sky. God, he looked as tired as myself. I told him to lie down and not to worry about getting his hawaiian shirt dirty, the grass is mowed everyday. He followed my advise but kept staring at the sky. What would he do now? Tell me a fucking love story? Well, I could probably live with that. Just this one fucking night alright? I am really cheap. Who knows, I might get his love story published one day.

I am bewildered by his aura. In the dark, he seems surrounded by a hazy light, like a halo around the Saints. I think I need an optometrist check my vision when I have enough money. But with clients like this one, I'd be blind before that happens.

"Imagine," he began. "You are me, Roberto Policarpio."

Yeah sure, I closed my eyes. Of course, I had to lie down too to stare at the stars. Shit, why didn't I let him go? The moment I laid down, he got up. Make up your mind will you? I'm no fucking rapist to sit away from. Actually, he rolled over in prone position. Immediately, the image of Freud beside his hypnotized patient- that sort of thing - swept my imagination.

Seeing his eyes staring down at me made me recall something in my childhood. When I was fourteen, I was locked up in a juvenile cell. Everyday I had to attend a psych session with an old, bearded, always horny shrink - for behavioral modification, that kind of shit - he stooped down on me like the way Roberto was doing now. He recorded my creative stories as if they were the truth. He always had a hard on every time we had a session. Of course I fucked the bastard. How else would I get out of jail? I missed those prosperous days.

"What are you smiling about?" Roberto asked.

"Nothing." I answered.

I turned over, to avoid his eyes because I couldn't look into people's eyes when I wanna be serious. I lifted my torso and rested my chin on my hands. I listened. At least I tried.

He continued, "I wish I could get away from it all. From the past, the present, the future. Each phase shows bleakness. I can see my past only with regrets; my present only with pains; my future has no hope."

I wish he would cut this bull shit. Man, I am getting affected. Contrary to popular beliefs, a hustler doesn't think of money alone, he can sympathize too. Occasionally.

I tried to lighten up his brooding. "That is a nice line. Name the poet."

He ignored me. He crossed his legs like a Hindu guru. "It is nice to watch the stars," he spoke. "I wish one of those heavenly stars is another earth, and on that earth I could dwell and be accepted for what I am."

Alex Maskara