"Triggered by what?" my mother asks back, her forehead creased, almost undoing the effects of the Botox she uses.
"Triggered by the excitement of hearing her gentle voice," I say, causing my father to stifle a laugh while my mother appears to widen her eyes. Clearly, the woman who gave birth to me is surprised by my indecent words. But it doesn't end there because I continue my sentence. "Imagine being me. After days of restraining myself from thinking about and missing my future wife, suddenly I have to contact her to comfort her. Everything I've been holding back will come rushing back."
"I can't hold myself back. And if my passion peaks because of all the erotic thoughts about my future wife, do you want me to spend my time in the bathroom and..." The words about to come out of my mouth are stopped by my mother's chubby hand.
"Don't you dare speak like that, Altezza Quirino!" She growls without removing her hand from my mouth. I lick the palm of her hand out of frustration, causing her to shudder in disgust and rub it roughly with a tissue. "You're so filthy!" She shouts again.
"What's filthy? My tongue or my thoughts?" I ask challengingly.
"Your thoughts!" My mother answers angrily.
"What's wrong with my thoughts? I haven't even finished my sentence but you've already shut my mouth."
"You said something weird."
"What's weird about it?"
"Earlier, you said you would spend your time in the bathroom and..."
"And what?" I raised both my eyebrows in a teasing manner.
"I don't know. You want to continue masturbating, right?" my mother asked with a disgusted frown on her face.
"Mamma, how would a socialite like you know something like that?" I teased her. Padre was still holding back his laughter.
"Are you teasing me?"
"Not teasing, Mamma. But admiring you. I thought my mother didn't know things like that, but it turns out..." Again my mother covered my mouth with her hand.
"Don't just because you're seventeen plus, then you're free to talk about such indecent things in front of me. That's just rude!"
"Mamma, I'm seventeen plus one. I'm just reminding you in case you forget," I say with a mischievous smile.
"Enough, you two are just talking nonsense," my father finally intervenes. The man in his early sixties turns off the TV with the remote and looks at me with his serene eyes. When it comes to this, Padre's face resembles Uncle Arthur-his older brother, Antony Quirino's father. And just so you know, the only person who can silence my mother is my father.
"Al, speak nicely to Adaline. From what I observe, your future wife seems like someone who doesn't like to air her problems. Being shy or reserved isn't a big issue, but being closed off, that's a different matter because in marriage, it can backfire.
"In the future, you both have to be open with each other and any problem, no matter how small, should be resolved the same day or wait until things cool down if they're heated. Because if you bury one problem after another and let them pile up, eventually, it will become a huge explosion that could destroy everything. Don't regret because you keep choosing 'later and later'."
"My advice as a parent who has seen many marriages, start by being honest with each other. Tell your wife about any problems you're facing. Just because you think it's a small matter doesn't mean your wife will see it the same way.
"Also, ask the same from your wife. Ask her to tell you all her problems, all her secrets so that in the future there won't be any conflicts between you. Understand?"
I look at Padre and nod my head in response to his question. Whether it's just my feeling or my father is indeed teasing me right now. Because every word he says seems to imply that he knows something about me even though I don't know what it is.
Could it be related to my relationship with Jovanka? Is that possible? Didn't Antony say that only he and I knew about my relationship with Jovanka?
I nod again as a sign that I heard all my father's advice. And I know my father is right. I have to tell Adaline about the secret of my relationship with Jovanka, and I have to find the right time to do it.
I don't want that woman to reappear one day and ruin everything. I can't calculate the probability of that woman coming back. But I will still tell our story to Adaline as a precaution. Isn't it said that prevention is better than regret?
In another part of the country.
"What's this?!" The loud shout is accompanied by the throw of a flat, hard object.
"What's wrong, Joe?" A tall, sturdy man approaches her. Instead of answering, the woman turns to look at him fiercely.
"Prepare a ticket to Manhattan right now! I have to go home!" She commands with an untouchable tone.
"You can't, Joe. You can't just go home suddenly! You're still under contract for six months." The assistant replies with a warning tone. "Don't let your dreams shatter because of some stupid news like this!"
"Stupid news, you say! The news you call stupid is my husband's wedding!" She shouts with overflowing anger. Her face turns red, the veins in her neck appear tense. The woman's chest heaves with heavy breaths.
"No, Jovanka. He's not your husband anymore! Besides, it's not a wedding, it's just an engagement." The assistant retorts, not wanting to back down.
"No. I don't accept his divorce and for me, he's still my husband. For now and forever. I will never let him become another woman's husband, especially that poor slut!
"I don't care! I have to go back and stop them from getting married!" She screams again, raging and throwing everything in front of her. "He belongs to me! Altezza Quirino belongs to me!" She roars in anger again. Her assistant approaches and injects something into her body, causing the woman to slowly calm down and then lose consciousness.