Christmas Eve

Note: Bloody in many parts - Part 2

It was the night before Christmas.

After work, I headed to the mall to do last minute Christmas shopping. I didn’t realize that the mall was scheduled to close at 7pm and I only had an hour left to breeze through the shops. I bought myself a book and mom her first mobile phone ever. At exactly 7, I was already checking out.

Outside, I headed towards the FX terminal to catch a ride back home. It took probably an hour more before I finally got to the front of the half kilometer commuter line. And guess what? The blue-violet Adventure arrived and Bloody the driver picked up the first ten tired passengers with already quaky legs. And for no particular reason, perhaps serendipity or part manipulation on his side, he led me to the front seat. When I got in, a girl was already occupying the seat that was supposed to be mine. So I took the space beside her and the door.

The girl between us turned out to be someone he knew. She was probably one of his regular seatmates who asked to be picked up somewhere like a kid waiting for her yaya. I can't help but overhear their conversation for half an hour. But none of those piqued my interest. (What would I expect they’d talk about? The Wall Street crisis?) Feeding Bloody with poisoned chocolate she probably got from a Kris Kringle did not impress me either. C’mon, was that all she’s got? I can give him the entire menu of our restaurant for free you know. Now that’s cocky.

The girl was flirting with him and it disturbed me so much I hid my face behind my hair. My ears were hot and my face was already red. I've got this mental picture of him who seemed so nice to everyone. I wasn't expecting he'd literally take it an extra mile further. How many have he been so "platonic" with? Where do I land on that wait list? Why do I feel bad about this whole thing? I looked up for an appropriate word. Jealousy flashed like an electronic billboard.

When we arrived at the destination, everyone left except for me and Bloody. It has been our unspoken tradition that I would be the last person he had to take to the last stop. I was insanely quiet and forced myself to look out of the window. I would have stuck my head out if it were only open and breathe. Bloody would occasionally glance at me. It took him a couple of minutes before he finally said "Hi" to an iceberg seated a few inches from him. Of course, I responded with a fake smile. I was rather good at that.

Bloody explained himself like a typical boyfriend caught in a lip-lock incident. Even if you feed him to a thousand volt shock from a Meralco transformer, he would stick to his famous line, “We’re just friends!” The girl, according to him, was just his friend. Maybe kissing friends was a little more accurate.

And I, the now irate passenger, assured him it was a secret I won't tell his wife. That “wife” bait worked like “open sesame”. The fish was caught in the hook without much resistance. Revelations came pouring in, one by one, with little less prodding. Bloody is a married man. He’s five years older than I and has three kids. If he could only tuck the word “wife” in the trunk, he would have gladly done so than make it part of his speech. This guy was obviously trapped inside a bad marriage. That explains the front seat girls, which unfortunately already includes me.

It was the first time I heard him talk about his life seriously. When we reached the final stop, he suggested driving me all the way home. I refused. He asked for a kiss. I was completely horrified. He looked amused and at the same time, perplexed. I left him with no explanation to ponder on except for a playful smile I hoped would drive him nuts on a Christmas Eve. That way the playing field was even.

I went home more confused than ever as I tried to make sense out of the whole situation. Bloody was not the only married man who pursued me. There were two others who I avoided like an Ebola plague. But this one heck of a driver of Casanova caliber was the first one who had successfully invaded my thoughts and thawed my icy demeanor with his irresistible charm. He caught me spellbound. Like Christmas.