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“I don’t wanna be your friend.
I wanna kiss your lips.I wanna be your bitch.”
A friend of her mentioned that Lan Kwai Fong feels different. What she failed to mention was how drastic the difference was. From the people who, in their attempt to ‘live in the moment’ ended up exerting all their effort in trying. To the stalls that are obviously catering to tourists, probably against their better judgement. Even the neon lights that used to enliven the night are replaced by LED lights. Everything is a faint of echo of a greatness that persevered through nostalgia.
Perhaps it isn’t so evident to others. The tourists are either visiting for the first time or didn’t visit often enough to notice the various changes. The locals lived here long enough to get used to the gradual changes that didn’t happen overnight; and maybe that’s the case for everyone. There is absolutely nothing in the world that humans don’t learn to tolerate.
It took her three months to tolerate life behind bars. It was suffocating to be with five people in one small room, but after a few months, she got used to the unspoken rules; which spaces belong to her, and what to say and not to say to certain people. After a while, she’d find herself forgetting about the fact that she’s sharing a room with convicted criminals… …that she herself is a convicted criminal.
It took her three weeks to get used to living a normal life again. As expected, even though it took longer than she’d hoped… they managed to negotiate her freedom. Enough evidences were compiled for her life long sentence to be reduced to five years and a bail of a hundred twenty-eight million pesos. It felt weird to sleep in her own bed again at first, or any hotel beds. It felt weird feel people’s eyes when she’s simply minding her own business on the dairy aisle looking for a tub of vanilla ice cream. She could swear that it didn’t feel as unnerving as it did before the entire POGO fiasco, but she choked it up to paranoia.
Seven weeks into her freedom, she received an invitation. It was forwarded by Sheila, which defeated the purpose of her changing her number and deactivating all her previous accounts in hopes of starting again. The message 你应该加入我们. (You should join us.) was preceded by the date and location of what she could only assume is a house warming party. Almost everyone she knows are either getting married, settling, or having a baby. How incredibly tragic. She used to want that kind of life.
Someone took it from her.
It’s too late wallow in self-pity now. And she’s too preoccupied trying to listen, or at least appear to be listening to their friend who promised them that the house can wait. It’s well past nine o’clock. They’ve only started their spontaneous night out. Alice prepared herself for a really boring sleepover or an endless night of grown adults acting like they’re still teenagers, sleeping only when the sun peeks from the horizon. There’s no middle ground with them.
Normally, she’d enjoy their antics but freedom feels suffocating in a contradictory way; too much of everything you’ve been deprived of, handed to you simultaneously. Someone told her – that someone being an influencer on TikTok where a horrifying amount of fan edits of her still exists – focusing on the small things could help overwhelmed people to be… …whelmed? Perhaps you can’t grammatically be whelmed because it’s a state that doesn’t actually exist. Still, she tried to look for something simple.
Normally, without her glasse and with all the blinding lights, she won’t be able to make out the face of someone from the other side of the street. But even though the person was mostly blurry and only partly visible in the midst of a crowd – she’s certain it’s someone she knows.
She watched her look at trinkets on a stall manned by someone who looks like the kind of vendor charming enough to overcharge tourist while acting as though he’s doing them a favour. Serves her right. Alice thinks to herself.
She likes violet. What’s new? She bought four god-knows-what in that colour and three other nonsensical stuffs.
Alice thinks she’d like the hotel she stays in. She’d like the lilac of her bed spread. And maybe she’d like to leave purple bruises on Alice’s skin… …and maybe Alice would let her. Wasn’t she cruel like that? Diving head first into an issue that could get her killed because she knows she can retaliate. Probably liked the thought of knowing she has the upper hand. What stopped her from committing to the bit?
Alice watched her smile when the vendor cracked a joke. Under these faux-neon lights she almost looks sickeningly beautiful, tucking strands of her hair between her ear. Is she flirting with him? Cigarette smoke clouded her senses. She realised it was one of her friends offering her one. He’s looking at the senator as well, and he knows better than to ask, but he is offering her what comforts him and she wants to feel grateful but all she could think of is how she wants someone to else to share it with her. She imagines her putting out a cigarette on her skin, smiling when she hisses at the pain, stopping only to take another drag. But she doesn't really smoke.. Shame, nicotine might taste sweet from her lips. So, she pictures her biting at her lower lip until they could both taste something metalic.
In the grand of scheme of things, in spite of the gravity of the crimes she was associated with; she’s nothing but a pebble in the mountain of problems the Philippines have. She’s the boss, sure. But who are they trying to fool? She’s the boss of a particularly small, not-so-significant branch in a web of an elaborate criminal society. One of the lesser valued hands whose disappearance won’t make that much of a change. Don’t get her started on the problems from within their government. But fine… prosecute the one who at least softens the damage by actually doing something. Alice wonders how that makes her feel. Does she like how power feel? Does she like knowing that unlike others, she’s in control – won’t go overboard, won’t sacrifice her dignity… Or is she just better at hiding? Is she just better at keeping her personal and professional life separate?
Would she have liked it if Alice begged? Alice wondered if she’d like to see her on her knees. Like a dog. She tried to shake the thought away, but the thoughts rushed to her in waves. Surely, no one could be so pure? What was the saying about being punished for refusals? Alice pictures her in her usual clothes, looking all prim and proper, striding from the bedroom door towards her. How will she release her frustrations? Perhaps as aggressive as when she sometimes snaps. She pictures her with the heel of her hand pressing on the pulse point of her neck. Controlled but evidently frustrated. She pictures her with hatred in her eyes, her thumb tracing Alice’s jaw as if the caress could make up for the fact that she’s blocking her airpath… perhaps it does. If she tries hard enough, she could almost feel her hand travel from her neck to her cheeks, then her fingers tracing her lips before a forceful intrusion. She wouldn’t need to say it. Alice would suck on her fingers without missing a beat. Careful not to bite… …too hard, then wait for that coveted praise. Good girl.
The difficult thing about being in a trance is that she doesn’t notice she’s moving subconsciously with her friends. And what started as a safe distance between them was eventually cut to a half a meter. The senator hasn’t seen her yet, and it should stay that way.
She placed herself in the middle of their group, and linked her arms with one of her friends. Subtlety isn’t really her thing, but what harm will trying bring her? While everyone else are immersed on the foods, she’s studying the senator’s movement. She watched her eat curry fish balls and wished she’d choke. Experiencing a fraction of the pain Alice had to endure because of her would be a sight she’d pay to see. She pictures her clawing at her neck, blood leaving her face. What a tragedy that would be. Would she haunt her then? She imagines her ghost plaguing her nightmares – torturing but never killing because of course, keeping her captive is better than allowing her to have her freedom.
Damn her.
Damn her for making sure that Alice stays a prisoner no matter what she does. Damn her for looking so ethereal, bathing in faux-neon lights as if she hasn’t ruined so many lives. Everyone deserved it, but still. Couldn’t keep her nose out. How will her nose feel between the crooks of her neck with her teeth sinking into her collarbone? Surely, she’d enjoy inflicting pain on someone who deserves it. She thinks of her, feeling all righteous, punishing Alice in ways she shouldn’t probably imagine. But would it not please her to see Alice in handcuffs?
She shook her head, then turned her gaze to the foods. It took her a while to actually focus on them. She missed half of the conversation, but the formerly inaudible words of her friends got clearer now. She lets herself wonder for one last time why the senator was even here, and scolds herself when she danced on the possibility that it’s because of her.
During the house warming, she didn’t think of the senator. At least, not voluntarily. It was a challenge with how dull it turned out. They were all too tired to come up with something that it resembled a group therapy session she wanted to escape. So, she did. Everyone kissed her good bye. Sheila offered to walk her to her hotel, but she insisted on going alone. She owes her so much. Can’t believe that after everything she’s still so kind to her. It took a lot of self-restraint to not impose on her knowing that she’s enjoying the time with their friends.
Her hotel was five minutes away, but there’s a longer route that might take her mind off of things. It helped, but it would prove useless in the end.
Apart from the young couple who kept the elevator doors open for her (and the ladies on the front desk), the hotel is still. Too late for some people and too early for others. There was nothing note worthy about the ride until the doors opened on the second floor. And there she is, whose smile dropped when their eyes met. She made an excuse to the person she was talking to on her phone before hanging up.
Risa hastened on the other end of the elevator. Oddly enough, it feels as though the couple could feel the tension between them. Fortunately, they kept to themselves, even though they’d sometimes glance at her then at the former mayor of Bamban. Risa noticed that there’s two buttons lit. One for her own floor, and the other, two floors below hers. At first, she was just relieved that she didn’t have to awkwardly walk towards the button after her hurried steps to the corner until realisation hit her.
One more floor before she either gets the most dreadful elevator ride of her life, albeit short… or a normal one with complete strangers.
*ding
When the doors opened and the couple took their first step, she knows she’s doomed. She could just step out now. Pretend this is her floor as well, then embarrass herself in front of the couple by switching elevators. But why should she? She doesn’t have to be diplomatic to someone who wasn’t even her former colleague. And it’s not like she should be ashamed for being a factor of her being jailed… she was proven guilty, and she’s walking around freely only because she could pull some strings. Risa doesn’t understand what exactly is making her nervous. Apart from the way Alice looked at her. Still, she should, at the very least, be polite.
When the doors opened again, her reflexes kicked in.
“Alice?” Risa started, amazed at how normal she sounds. What she meant to say was ‘I didn’t expect to see you here’ to start a conversation, but when too many better choices presented themselves, what came out was: Do you wanna come over?