// 31 January 2018 - Manila, Philippines //
Today’s news said the Super Blue Blood Moon is about to grace the skies tonight. Anthony and I were on our way to the Astronomical Observatory of the University of the Philippines for a closer look of the much awaited celestial spectacle—a supermoon, blue moon, and blood moon—that will coexist on a Wednesday night to create a phenomenon not seen in the heavens in more than 150 years.
Anthony and I arrived here in Manila a couple of days ago, after I invited him to meet my family.
The anxiety manifestly surfaced in Anthony’s face the moment I’ve asked for it, but he pulled himself together to please me.
“I’ll do it. For you.” I remember him smiling as we waited for our flight to Manila at Sydney Kingsford Smith Airport.
The days we spent in Sydney made us aching more and more for each other’s touch, each other’s scent and cuddles.

Anthony made me live with him in his flat. It was awkward at first, doing the laundry for him, preparing for his breakfast before he headed to work, and making sure he’d changed his shirt before joining me in bed.
Our first three days as a couple were fast and easy. We’ve bypassed the flirting stage quickly and headed straight to the real-couples-stage of romance. We were happy, couldn’t get enough of each other, becoming more open and lovingly serious each passing day.
Last night, while Anthony and I lay in bed at the family house in Manila, Anthony talked about how much he admired my father’s success story. He learned about it all from Annie, when the latter couldn’t stop telling Anthony everything about me. I guess Anthony persuaded her to do so.
Anthony hadn’t met Mom and Yvonne yet. When we left Australia, the two flew to Tuscany for the launching of the company’s new product line, winery, in partnership with an Italian vineyard.
“We’ll be home on the 1st of February. For now, we’re attending an exclusive auction here,” Mom and Yvonne said over the phone when I called them. I was too preoccupied about how they'd react to my new relationship. I was serious with Anthony, and I wanted my family to know it.
“Hey there, Mist.” Yvonne played silly in yesterday’s phone conversation, using our inside nickname when we don’t see each other for so long. "Mist" is dear to us because it represents the teardrops that suspend in the air when we miss each other.
“I heard there’s someone you want us to meet.” Yvonne continued, and I remember she was always the clingy one. Although I already told Yvonne about Anthony, days ago back in Sydney, a million of things lingered still and boggled me. I wondered if they were open to the idea of meeting someone not accustomed to the family, unlike Ethan.
“Can’t wait to meet him,” Yvonne added. I knew she was happy for me. But Mom?

“Better make sure that guy is serious.” Mom would destroy the mood. And I was already terrified of how she’s going to treat Anthony in person.
“Well, he came here all the way from Australia so he must be serious.” I was evidently protective of Anthony. I didn’t know where that courage came from. Once Mom starts the “speech” part, I turn helpless. But not this time.
“All right, then. See you two soon.” I knew Mom intended to make her voice sound casual, playing it nice for the sake of a peaceful phone call.
That phone call ended with me worrying about what could happen when they arrive home tomorrow. There’s a part of me that knows Mom’s tendency to question my every decision. And I wasn’t sure if it was some motherly concern or merely her disdain of me.
I’ve always had that notion that Mom is more comfortable with Yvonne. They bond better together. And sometimes, it does feel like I am the real outsider.

With this, I suddenly missed Dad. And the late-night talks when both of us couldn’t sleep. We’d often stumble into each other in the kitchen, sneaking into those pile of desserts that would always freak out Mom, claiming they’re nothing but sugar, nothing but disease and diabetes.
In those chats in the kitchen, Dad would talk about the people and events that shaped the world. The likes of Alexander the Great, Tesla, Holocaust, Cold war, Ebola—how these changed his outlook in life.
In some other days, he’d talk about Shakespeare and Ernest Hemingway. The Mona Lisa and Starry Night. He would even tell me how much he admired The Beatles and John Denver.
The last song I heard my father sang was “Country Roads.” Up there in the balcony with his vintage acoustic guitar, which according to him was the first thing he bought when he received his first real money. He said he always wanted to be a singer. And we laughed so hard because he was so damn serious about it.
It was just the two of us there in the balcony. Me as his audience and the chlorine-smelling pool down below.
I miss my father’s laughing. He is gone now, but for some crazy reason, a man like him is sitting right beside me—Anthony—who’s here sitting beside me in the rear of Dad’s Mercedes driven by Ronaldo, our long-time family driver, on our way to the university.