// In the evening - Sydney, Australia //
Anthony and I arrived in his apartment. It was after we dropped by a grocery store for our dinner.
Things in his place were the same as before. The same cluttered living room, his clothes piled on the couch and a pack of cigarette and an ashtray on a small wooden center table.
I stared at Anthony, giving him an inquisitive look about the filthy magazines in his bedroom. He could only return a bland look as though it was my fault.
“I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Anthony shrugged a shoulder, defensive, like a man entitled for a daily fellatio. But I only found him devastatingly handsome in those black leather jacket and blue jeans, matching his eyes.
It was hard resisting Anthony’s charm each time he slides that steady, manly look at me. As though we are standing in our own exclusive space zone, and the weight of his look heavier than gravity. My mind simply shuts down every time.
That sundown, Anthony and I cooked dinner together. Beef Tenderloin with roasted cauliflower-pomegranate salad. I stopped worrying for calories and just wanna savor this wonderful moment, him imparting sweet kisses from behind as he guided my arms in mixing the salad. It almost felt like we’ve been doing it for ages.
We needed no scented candles nor romantic wine to accompany us that evening. We just talked over a lot of things. From his relationship with Junior to his separation from Penny.
“The marriage was an insurance.” Anthony began with the details. “Penny’s father would fire a bullet in my head if I wouldn’t marry her. I didn’t want Mom to have a heart attack.” Anthony was swaying head as he spoke.
“What you had with Penny, was it real?” I asked, my heart hanging in the balance, scared that the answer would reveal something that might threaten our relationship.
Anthony glared at me for a moment. “Yeah. I think it was.” His expression somewhere between truth and make-believe. “We were in high school, you know.” The look in Anthony seemed he remembered her perfectly in her prom dress. Penny is Anthony’s first kiss. Didn’t every man remember the magic of his first love?
I wasn’t bitter, but there was no denying I felt a tiny bit of jealousy, that she’d won Anthony’s heart first. But I dismissed that thought immediately. It’s immature. I have Anthony now, and whatever they had is now shelved in dust.
Our conversation grew more serious immediately after. Anthony said he’s been consulting a lawyer for his divorce and that he wishes he’ll have Junior in his custody.
That removed a portion of glass from my throat. It felt more secure, but my concern was more on the kid.
“About Junior…” I was doubtful to open that topic. It’s not my place to ask about the child, but I felt it was essential to ask. “How often do you see him these days?”
“Not often. Sometimes, Penny lets Mom visit Junior on my behalf. They’re all in Melbourne.” Undeniably, ache and longing manifested in Anthony’s face. A father needs his son, too, the same way as the son needs his father. I wished I could do more to appease Anthony’s gloom.
“Since he learned about my jail time,” Anthony proceeded, pertaining to his son, “he began building up his own wall. I tried but he wouldn’t talk to me. I let him down.”
My skin flushed hot and cold as though I shared the guilt with Anthony. Junior is too young to be dealing with such mess.
“Junior must still be in the state of shock. Give him the chance to get his head around everything.” I tried to perk Anthony. I didn’t know what other ways to console him. “All in good time.” I tried to reassure Anthony and told him I supported him no matter what.
“I guess you’re right…” Anthony recovered soon and centered his look at me.

“Right on what?” I managed a word and I waited for him to finish his point.
“That things are more difficult when you learn the truth from other people.” Anthony referred to my previous sentiment of him not telling about his secrets. Then he went on to share that Junior learned about his jail time from Arthur. “That little prick!” Anthony muttered under his breath, pertaining to Arthur, his grimace looking like he could punch him if he was here.
I just listened, and held his hand closer.
“I guess I’m good at hurting the people who matter most in my life.” Anthony then declared, after a while. “I realize now that silence is more deafening than speaking. And it’s better to speak now than regret about it all later. I am truly sorry.” To my surprise, Anthony bared a soft side of him. It was more than relief we had the chance to be more open and show each other’s vulnerability. It felt more liberating now. Stabilizing, even.
It was a good sign.