To Elly, who I love the most
The only problem that I had was that I fell in love with this guy called Elly, who the rest of the world thought was an asshole.
We dated for 8 months.
On his red motorbike, he’d protest his love to me while we seize the rocky roads of San Pedro, behind the hippie tunes of 90’s Eraserheads.
He called me his “Ligaya”. I was his happiness, his ray of sunshine on a cold rainy day, he said.
I have to be honest. I sometimes find his jokes corny, but they made me giggle in a way. Elly was a natural romantic.
There was this time when he told me something about traffic lights and how they’d turn red whenever I am around.
I didn’t get it first, so he had to explain the joke to me. It felt silly and uncalled for but we ended up laughing anyway.
There was no dull moment whenever I was with Elly. Everything felt like a highschool fantasy for the both of us, like how one Thursday afternoon, when he showed up in the middle of class, on Valentine’s, to serenade me with a guitar.
He sang to Eraserhead’s “With a Smile” and I had to cover my face so bad, that everyone won’t see how a bloodbath my face had become. I was all pink and he wasn’t even halfway through the chorus.
Mind you, he doesn’t sound anything close to Elly Buendia at all. Having the same names doesn’t really guarantee you the same set of vocal cords.
But his warmth was what got me.
Oh, Elly. He had the guts of a crab and the confidence of a 7-year-old. Either way, I loved him because of that. Well, he was a punk on a motorcycle and I was a kolehiyala on his back ride, wearing a cutesy pink helmet in contrast to his black studded jacket.
What was I to do?
Who could ask for more teenage romance than that?
We were the stereotypical couple that everybody wanted. A good girl and a bad boy combo. It was like I was Sharon Cuneta and he was Robin Padilla.
We lived in the fantasy of our small little worlds, dreaming like kids, and wishing on wishing stars.
Every afternoon, right after four, Elly would be seen outside our campus, in the parking area, waving at me with such excitement and longing. That’s the queue for my friends that it’s now time to say their goodbyes.
Marites, my bestie, would poke me by my sides and flash a cheeky grin right at me. To ward her off, I’d glare at her in return. She hated it and would concede, of course.
Elly would then rev up his motorbike and let out a loud, pitchy honk to signal me that we’re ready to go.
He was a smooth driver. But he charged like a raging bull. He was safety and danger altogether. Someone I am comfortable with, but dared me to be a little extra.
We owned the nights. Both Elly and I against the world. In the cold, crowded streets, I was his damsel and he was my knight in a motorbike.
We complemented each other, like how a key fits a lock.
On weeknights, Elly and I would feast together in a banquet of streetfoods.
He said it’s his love language to take a girl out on a food date. I couldn’t agree more because I see how he rarely goes out with his gang.
He said he’s always on a tight budget. I’d often argue to split the bill, but he’d insist not to. It was Elly’s chivalry pushing him to be a man.
Healthy relationships shouldn’t be like this. So, I make sure that, once or twice a month, I get to take him out to see a movie. My treat.
Elly was unlike other guys I dated. He’s broke but rich in many ways. I saw something in him that the rest of the world didn’t.
This made me think maybe he’s not much of an asshole like everybody says.
Maybe he was just misunderstood.
Maybe they just don’t know him that much.
For a fact, I know one thing.
Isaw was his favorite. And I felt like I was doing a crime whenever I’m eating with him.
My mom never wants me near exotic food, she says my immune system’s too weak to be eating around chicken poop.
Well, that was isaw to her. Garbage. But to Elly and I, it was the knot that tied us together, the bond that strengthens our love, the spaghetti in Disney’s Lady & the Tramp, only on a tight budget. It was romance in the form of soul food.
Seeing him happy made me happy.
Unfortunately, my mom never liked Elly.
He reminds her of my dad, who left us for another woman when I was 8.
She said dad was like him when they were younger, a troubled kid with no sense of accountability. A rider and a musician too. And mom had to fight for him, even against her very own parents, just to fix him.
You see, love makes us do things that we don’t even know we could ever do.
She was afraid I’d end up like her. A single mom with an asshole of a father.
I understand her. I can see through her pain.
But I was confident about Elly. He would never do such a thing to me, or my family.
Right after college, Elly proposed to me. And we got married.
I took the chance and moved out of my mom’s house and lived with Elly in an apartment by the city.
Everything was just like the movies. Things were turning out good. I am living my mom’s dream of a happy family.
3 years later, I gave birth to our daughter “Smile”, who I named after Elly’s Valentines’s song. Her name brings me joy. She had the biggest smile.
I felt like the luckiest mom in the world. Even though finances were hard, we still managed to raise a decent family.
But things were only just starting.
When our second child, Bimbo, was born, I started noticing that Elly was getting a little distant from me. It wasn’t anything like him. The flowers stopped coming in, he stayed up late and slept on the couch, he barely talked to me at all.
We also started picking up fights. Petty arguments grew into sleepless nights. Our bedroom turned into a battlefield.
Everything was just chaos.
Maybe it was just stress?
Maybe he’s just pressured with all of the bills that are piling up?
Maybe he just needs space?
There are nights when Elly would come home late from work, drunk.
Sometimes, he wouldn’t pick up the phone as if he didn’t care.
Then things got more violent, he started hurting me; he even punched me in front of the kids.
There are times that I would drive at night just to take the kids to my mom’s house so that they’d not see the monster that my husband has become.
I was worried that Elly would become something that I was afraid of. I was afraid that mom was right. Maybe he was really an asshole.
One day, while I was doing the laundry, I heard Elly’s phone rung.
It’s unusual for him to leave the house without his phone. So, I rushed to check where he left it. Luckily, I found his cell on top of the cupboard.
The moment I opened it, a familiar phone number popped right in front of the screen.
It was a text message from a friend.
What I read broke me.
“Babe, meet me tonight. I made you your favorite isaw barbecue. Let’s have fun together. I miss you”
It was Marites. My college best friend.
I gave Marites a ring.
“bes, bakit?” (friend, why?)
She immediately knew what was going on.
All she had to say was “sorry”.
But I asked “kelan pa?” (when did it all start?)
to which she replied
“I always wanted to tell you, but Elly insisted not to. Dawn, pasensiya na, but he wants to file for annulment. He says he can no longer live with you. Elly has lots of dreams in life na hindi pa niya natutupad because he married you at an early age. He said your mom bribed him para lang pakasalan ka. Elly had no choice dahil gipit siya noon. Now he’s suffering from the consequences. Pasensiya talaga bes kung ngayon ko lang sinabi. I don’t want to hurt you. Napamahal na rin si Elly saakin”.
The line got disconnected.
The beeping tone was all that’s left in the background.
But the pain lingered.
A few months later, Elly finally moved out.
I chose to set him free.
I got mad at my mom for forcing Elly to marry me. She should’ve not intervened. She should’ve not threatened someone for the sake of a fucked up fairytale.
All along, I was only playing the game that my mom created.
I couldn’t blame her. She loves me so much that she wants me to be happy.
And if happiness was being with Elly, she would be willing to cross boundaries just to make it happen.
I loved Elly. But it was just not meant to be. Before I was a wife, I was a woman first. And despite what my mom tells me, I am still strong without a man.
violence has no place at home.
