25 Cheater. Liar. Whore. (2/2)

I know she's trying to interrupt me, but I am taking control of this conversation. I see her flush as I point out the truth, but I am not quite done yet. She can keep her tears to herself, but she will listen to me. ”You let him be taken away by some lady that paid good money to erase his records off this hospital. Isn't that right?”

That's when I realize my voice raised too high to the point that the other staff are looking at both of us. In front of me is a nurse crying her heart out. The others just look at me with scorn as if I am a spoiled elite that did not get the treatment that I want.

”Miss Aguinaldo, what you say is true,” she says through her broken speech due to tears. ”But, what could we do, miss? We are only nurses. We only follow orders. As for Miss Acosta's case, the doctors did not think that you can pay for her treatment that is why they are planning to send her off to the mental institution. Nothing changed, miss. It was still the same.”

Her tears do not move me. I scoff her off and go ahead of her to Eloisa's room. ”Then I believe we understand each other,” I say to her, looking back as she cries. ”She will stay no matter what you say.”

*

I enter her room. There she is lying on the bed. Nothing to say to me. Just like what the internet had said about catatonic patients. Yes, she has nothing to say, but I see the agitation in her fingers as she fiddles through them – a mannerism she never had. Had she not been bound to bed by all these machines, I feel that she would move around this room in her agitation.

Slowly, I approach her and take a seat by her side. ”Eloisa,” I say gently to her. ”How are you?”

”Cheater. Liar. Whore.”

That makes no sense to me. I saw her through her good and bad days, but never did she say the word 'whore'. It makes you think what she meant by that. ”Huh?” I say to her. ”I don't believe I understand.”

”Diary,” she replies back. ”Cheater. Liar. Whore.”

Once more, she repeats those words. I don't understand what she means. ”What diary?” I ask her again.

”Bag. Drawer.”

I guess she means that I should check the bag inside the drawer of her side table. As I scurry through the drawer, I see her bag and inside it, it's just Emma's diary. Huh? This was just a relic of the days when the mystery was much simpler. And now, here it is again. Does she want me to return to the search for the man? I open the diary again, and much to my shock, many of the pages are torn away. This diary was a beautiful notebook when I first saw it, and now, it's just a mess of torn pages as if it was swept by a flood.

”Did you do this?” I ask.

”Cheater. Liar. Whore.”

She says those words again. I believe she will not answer the question. I open the diary to read one of the entries. The first thing I see, after the torn first pages is an undated entry.

*

Years and years of practice go by, and finally, I fulfilled one of the lifelong dreams I've had. I have long watched the performances at Metro Arts Theater ever since I was young. And now, it is the final rehearsal day. I shall perform before my people. The best part of all, he is here by my side. Unfortunately, though. I am not the star of this show, but he is. I am only his accompanist.

Violin Sonata No. 9 of Beethoven is a beautiful work of art.I hear him play the opening bars of the piece. The empty chairs that will be filled with people tomorrow crumbles me down on my knees. All of a sudden, I almost forget my part. I am an accompanist. I need to keep up with him. He does not keep up with me.

I hide my nervousness with a smile. I suppose he is very much immersed with the piece that is why he hardly paid attention with my mistake of missing my part.

I let it go. I have to perform. There is supposed to be nothing between us. I'm with Mateo. I love and care for him. I should love and care for him, and yet, why these moments. Why do I feel some attraction in a man that hardly feels the same? He blows hot. He blows cold. I do not even know if he feels the same.

As I play my notes, I hear a slight ringing sound from my side. I had forgotten that I had put my handbag beside me. Dear god, I forgot to tell him that this would be a full rehearsal. Mateo must be worried.

”Concentrate on the piece,” he said coldly. ”Do you think if you perform on stage tomorrow, you have the chance to 'take a break' and answer a call? Finish this movement. Then answer it.”

Even as he says those words, he is still playing his notes as I do mine. Little by little, I no longer grew wary of who is on the other side. Instead, his piercing eyes captivate my soul. It was to the point that I was no longer reading my notes but reading his eyes.

”You are no longer reading the piece,” he said as he continues his playing.

”I believe I had it memorized,” I said back to him.

”What if you forget? Remember our rule: concentrate on the piece.”

No, I do not listen to him. Instead, I continued gazing into his eyes as if we are playing a game of who will break first. I believe it will be he. But no. None of us breaks. As the agitation of this piece goes on, all we could do is draw closer to one another, but never touching each other as we continue playing the sonata.

And then, suddenly.He comes to me face to face. I almost shrink away from his intimidation, but I know better than to fear him. I am not afraid of him. I continued playing my piece even though he acts like that. I feel my breath getting tighter, but I am a more formidable opponent than he.

And then, suddenly. I did not expect that he would do it. He presses his lips against mine and I cannot do anything but let it go on. I cannot keep my fingers off the keys. Even as he keeps his lips on mine, he continues to play the piece, but I cannot help but let go.

As he breaks away, I cannot believe what just happened. He kissed me. He actually did that. As I come to this realization, I realize that I broke away. I lost.

”Concentrate on the piece,” he said with that sadistic smile of his. ”Young accompanist, do not let distractions such as I play with you.”

At the end of the day, it meant nothing to him, but it did mean something to me. At the end of the hall, I see a figure watching this rehearsal.

I felt like I have made the biggest mistake of my life.

Mateo. He saw everything.

*

Dear god. I was led to believe that Mateo was the villain of Emma's story when in fact, it was she who cheated first. I was wrong. I said many things to Mateo that I should regret. Eloisa taking Mateo's side became clearer to me. And, as she says right now, she is not as pure as I thought her to be.

Cheater. Liar. Whore. This is what the real Emma Concepcion is. She is not as pure as the world thinks her to be.