That’s how I imagined life should be- being engaged to somebody wearing a Tiffany ring, and you can afford it because you’re a young urban professional, living in style in one of those artsy lofts or apartments in the heart of the city. I was drifting again into one of my hazy imaginations while standing in front of Tiffany’s. Just like in the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s when Holly was having breakfast while looking at the window shop of Tiffany’s, except that I was about to have a (very) late dinner.
That evening I was also quite anxious. It’s like having the mean reds- that sentiment of inexplicable anxiety. I heard it also from the movie, but I usually call it ‘mental regla’.
We were going to have dinner in an Apulian restaurant near Tiffany’s, as a despedida party for one of my dear friends, Ms. Clairvoyant and her husband.
It’s very rare for a Filipino to eat in one of those fancy restaurants in that area. Dining there is absurdly expensive. Nevertheless, the experience never fails to give you that elated sensation of being in a posh environment, the ultimate rush a social-climber could ever have. But I would be a hypocrite if I deny my true sentiment of being part of the Florentine night life scene and share in the glittery glory of being fashionably and glamorously superficial. But I’m just one of those awkward social climbers. It wasn’t really the right place for me- too expensive and fashionable for my poor and corny taste in life and style.
But I had to be there because the dinner was for my friends.
Ms. Clairvoyant is tall, pretty and youthful, and her husband is like the twin brother of a very handsome Filipino action star. Strange enough, my compadre didn’t show up that night, only Ms. Clairvoyant.
After the gruelling hours of waiting, the others have finally showed up beyond the appointed time, and way too early for Filipino time.
They were all there-stylish and smiling. I felt out of place, but the need to be nourished overcame embarrassment and stupid insecurities. Being there while having mental regal was like being in a haze so thick and suffocating. I swear it wasn’t the prosecco or the wine.
The scene was almost surreal- secret friends and hidden foes all in this convivial banquet. The true and the treacherous laughing in one vivacious chorus. Malicious talks and factions were set aside. That night was an exception. Everyone united in Ms. Clairvoyant’s honour.
All this glitter and glamour make me feel pathetic. But the feeling subsides when I look at her. It’s not like I’m in love with her. Looking at Ms. Clairvoyant, there’s this tenderness and warmth one feels in the heart that makes you forget everything and the muffled noise around you. She’s just so dear to me.
The Big Boss stood up after the dinner and drag everyone to this over-rated club near the
. The girls
there were like supermodels- tall and beautiful, smooth skin, slender bodies,
classy dresses and flirtatious air. The guys were cocky metrosexuals-
boisterous and playful, with their bulging fronts and lascivious looks and
smiles. Arno River
After a round of martinis and a
were loosened up. Earlier at the restaurant, there were already some
whisperings among the girls. Hints were being exchanged. Girl talk, I said to
myself. I decided not to exert any effort to decipher their cryptic messages. cuba
As we were about to leave to hit the road back home the Big Boss said that if she ever though of returning to Italy she will find her a suitable Latin Lover. And then it hit me. After putting all the pieces of puzzle together, I finally saw the big picture.
Comadre and compadre have come to the end of their trip.
I thought it was too early to be in such a crisis. It wasn’t the time for them to come to such dilemma, especially when they have a son. They never told me anything. And all this time I believed in love, true and eternal. They were good at hiding the huge gap between them.
We said our last goodbyes. The mean reds/mental regal getting nastier in me. I can now see clearer beyond this haze, but it’s still thick and suffocating.
I chauffeured one of my masters back to her home and we talked about life in the
concealing the desire to exchange facts about Ms. Clairvoyant. It was better
that way. We only keep the good things of her last moments here in Philippines . Italy
On my way home, I thought that dinner near Tiffany’s would be one of my saddest and most awkward of all memories. And life can never be like Tiffany diamonds- long lasting or forever. People are not Tiffany diamonds- we’re not genuine.
The truth is we would be always looking at the glass windows of that glamorous shop- always looking, always dreaming, always pretending, always drifting in that world of make-belief. Always yearning for that life, for that existence of undying love.
Meanwhile, the mean reds are still tormenting me.