BRO-MAN'S

Art by MOrtiz. For more amazing art, follow IG _miiart_

June 26, 1970

John heard the thud of the school’s standard issue black shoes against his ribs like distant thunder. The sharp pain knifed up to his head and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. Suddenly, he felt a body pressing on top of him, shielding him from the worst of the kicks. He heard someone else’s grunts of pain and was ashamed to feel relief that someone else was getting hurt instead of him.

February 20, 1981

It’s prom night but instead of being in his cheap motel room with his slightly slutty girlfirend, John found himself walking along the motel’s dimly lit corridor.  Tony, his best friend since that beating they shared in Grade 1, was pacing furiously.

“I just couldn’t do it, man. I don't know why. “ Tony said.

“It’s okay, bro.” John said. “No one said we had to have sex on prom night, anyway.”

So neither of them did.

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

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“So, now that we’re alone…”

She turned towards me, a puzzled smile on her lips.

“Huh?”

The number on the electronic panel of the elevator changed to 2 and I knew I had roughly 45 seconds before we reached her floor.

“I just wanted to tell you just how much you mean to me.” I said.

“You mean a lot to me too.”

“Yeah, but you don’t mean it the way I do. You mean it in the you-are-my-ever-reliable-buddy-the-funny-guy-from-the-office-who-I-will-never-be-attracted-to way.  I mean it in the why-can’t-you-see-me-for-the-wonderful-guy-that-I-am-and-I-will-spend-my-life-making-you-happy way?”

COMEDY OR TRAGEDY

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“Mal? Where are you? I need the goat’s milk for my bath!”

Pygmalion grit his teeth to keep bitter words from spilling out. He took a deep breath and tried to keep the knife-like edge from his voice.

“Coming” he answered. He gave the goat’s teat a couple more painful twists, drawing a reproachful look and a surprised bleat out of it. He took a look at the pitiful amount of milk in his pail and gave a sigh. She was not going to be happy.

“Maaaaal? The goat’s milk!” Her lilting voice, once so sweet to his ears, wafted over to pummel him into action. He stood up and hurried inside the house. 

ALL TALK

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It was time.

In about 10 seconds, she’s going to come through those doors and take a quick look around, like she was ashamed of what she’s about to do. And then, seeing just the normal crowd minding their own business, she’s going to walk quickly towards me.

She’ll lean forward, keeping her voice in a low whisper, speaking slowly but urgently. Most of the time, I find myself leaning forward too, to catch her every word, hear every lilt in her voice, feel her very breath wrapped around her secrets.

MORE OR LESS

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“Ben?”

The fear in Liza’s voice made the hair at the back of my neck stand. I quickly put Gabe down in his crib and handed him his favorite rattle. After listening to him coo for a second or two, I walked out of the room, carefully making sure to lock the door before heading over to where I knew Liza would be standing: the wall facing the front door, where all our family pictures were hung.

Except they weren’t just family pictures anymore. They’d become something more, something…inexplicable.

For the last 3 weeks, the pictures had been changing. At first it was just the little things…a kid’s jacket added in the background of the picture my mom took of me during my first day in kindergarten. An old man’s fishing hat at the corner of the picture of my dad during his Tokyo trip. A pair of fashionable women’s sunglasses on top Liza’s head, apart from the ones she was wearing on the picture.

TABULA RASA

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He opened his eyes slowly, nauseous from the pain that stabbed every inch of his body. They refused to focus at first, giving the world a dreamy, haze-like quality from which he could only recognize colors and, just barely, shapes.

            He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then opened them again. They seemed to work much better now, allowing him to take in the room he found himself in.

            It looked like a hotel room. But judging from the pain that filled his every moment, he knew it couldn’t be one. The luxury suite of a high-end hospital then. He saw a mountain of flowers by the door, as well as baskets upon baskets upon baskets of fruit, some already showing signs of rot.

            Which meant he’d been here for a while. How long, he wondered. A week? A month? There was no way to tell, unless…

MY GUARDIAN DEAR

The statue of San Miguel was gone.

Jun stood there, not knowing what to do. Bile started to rise up his throat and he forcefully choked it down, gulping in massive quantities of bitter air in the process.

“Jun, is everything okay?” Leni, his wife, asked. She stood by their bedroom door, and looked at him quizzically. “ It’s 1am and you’re out here in the hallway.“

“Oh. I just thought I heard something scratching at the door.” Jun said. “But it’s probably just my imagination”

“Hey, what happened to the statue of San Miguel?” Leni nodded towards the empty space by the front door, where the statue of San Miguel usually stood guard.

“Uhm. I had it fixed.” Jun said. “Don’t you remember? I told you yesterday that I was going to have Bong bring it to Mang Kanor’s workshop so they could fix the scratches and have the broken parts replaced.”