Chapter 3 Chapter 2 (i)
Fae
About thirty minutes later, I finally came out of the ladies’ restroom, hoping I had successfully covered the marks of my crying bout with makeup and eye drops. I hoped at least I had, because there was nothing I could do about how miserable I looked as I trudged back to the wedding reception.
But it was most important to me that I managed to finish this. I had to, because if I didn’t, it would seem like Sarah did win. I cared less about what the other guests might think—this was between her and me. I had two more hours to spare before the party ended in the late afternoon. And after that, I could do whatever I wanted.
As I got near the doors, I caught myself squaring my shoulders and straightening my back. I took a deep breath. No more crying or looking crushed from now on. I could do all that behind closed doors, thank you very much.
Right now, I had obligations I had to live through, even if it was the last thing I did. I came here as family, and would leave as such. Two hours, that’s it. Then I could wallow in my self-pity for the rest of my life.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a tall man watching me from a distance.
I sighed.
Jigo, or Spencer Jigo Myrick, was one of Carl’s closest friends since middle school. His family owned this resort, the hotel—the island.
I couldn’t look at him because I was ashamed. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Jigo was there to watch over me and do damage control on his friend’s behalf.
I also wouldn’t be surprised if he was doing it at the behest of the grannies who worried about me, especially Lola Leah, his grandmother who was the kindest to me.
Jigo was always away due to overseas family businesses. I didn’t see him for months at a time. But I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was here today for Carl, too. He was an extremely loyal person, and the families had close ties. It was only because of Carl that I could rub shoulders with someone like Jigo. Doña Leah—his Lola Leah—was a close mentor and client of my late father, so I wouldn’t have been surprised if this was one of the reasons Jigo silently watched over me, too.
Well, he wouldn’t have been such a successful young businessman if he wasn’t so responsible. As brilliant as he was, and with a legacy from his late grandfather weighing upon his shoulders from a very young age, Jigo had always shown focus and dedication to being a Myrick. He was one of the young men closer to my age in high society I truly respected and was in awe of. Though, honestly, his intensity scared me a little, too, as it did anybody.
I used to live with Carl at the Easton House. The Eastons took me in as a foster child when I was orphaned after my godfather and my father—best of friends since law school—died in a tragic car accident. I was fourteen. Carl was seventeen then. Ninong Butch, my godfather, was Carl’s father.
My daddy was a lawyer to high society personalities when he was still alive. He was a senior and beloved partner in a law firm owned by Carl’s grandfather, Lolo Crayton. My dad and my Ninong Butch were as close as brothers. Therefore, Carl wasn’t just like a foster brother while we were growing up. He was a godbrother, too.
My father didn’t leave me with nothing. I inherited a substantial amount of money and assets from him. Though he didn’t come from old money, I was told he was a savvy investor. But I had no close relatives here in Manila. My mother died of cancer when I was barely two and I couldn’t even remember her. It was just my daddy and me when I was growing up, as both my maternal and paternal relatives migrated to Australia and the US a long time ago.
It wasn’t like Carl and I saw each other every day. I was in seventh grade when I started living in the Easton House while Carl was in eleventh grade. Our activities were different, and we went with different crowds of people. Easton House was a considerably huge house. Except for breakfast, we could both be there on the same day and same hours, but we might not see each other all day, sometimes for days. I got a glimpse of him more often on campus than at home.
And because I lived with the Eastons, I witnessed Carl and Jigo become close friends in middle school. Carl’s friends used to hang out at the Easton House. They swam laps in the pool and played billiards and video games in the rec room. I mostly stayed on the other end of the house or grounds during those times because I couldn’t handle the testosterone during their pool time and the heavy cusses in the rec room. Also, they tend to moderate themselves when they knew I was nearby. I didn’t want nor mean to be the spoilsport to their fun.
I was not surprised that the wedding was held here at Majarlika Royale Island Resort. A speedy wedding needed as little paperwork as possible, and a venue owned by a friend could help with that. Jigo would have taken care of all that for Carl.
I was just thankful that he didn’t approach me and talk to me while I was walking back to the function hall.
I was barely holding on. Jigo was an eyewitness to my embarrassing stalking of his friend. I used to dog Carl’s footprints whenever I could get away with it, and he was who always caught me doing it. I didn’t want to imagine what he must be thinking right now.
That I never grew up. That until the day of Carl’s wedding, I was still like this—a nuisance in his friend’s life. Did I even respect myself? He must wonder.
But I knew he wouldn’t tell me all that to my face.