THE LAST SLOW DANCE Part 3 of 3 by Nelz Agustin
"The Last Slow Dance" is part of an original unpublished novel I wrote called WHERE ANGELS FEAR. You can read it at < http://www.nelz.org/angels/ >. To read my other writings, please visit www.nelz.org. For comments or other pertinent information, please e-mail me at isaw@nelz.org. Your input and feedback are very much appreciated. Thanks for your time! -- Nelz
--nine--
It was after ten when Anton arrived home. He went to their room and found Clarissa packing her suitcases. The room was a mess of scattered hangers, empty shoeboxes and piled clothes.
"Don't even try to stop me," she said coldly without looking up. She tossed a hanger to the floor.
"Clarissa, let's talk." Anton started to approach her. Clarissa suddenly looked up and threw a hanger at him. He stepped deftly aside.
"There is nothing to talk about, Anton!" she bristled. She brought down the lid of her suitcase and snapped it shut. "You are a pig! A pervert!"
"Clarissa...."
"My God!" she shouted. "I can't believe you were fucking that man! Sticking your dick in that man--you're utterly disgusting!"
Anton strode briskly towards her and held her arms. She started struggling.
"Let go of me!"
"Clarissa, listen to me!" he pleaded desperately. "I"ve been wanting to tell you something a long time ago, but I just didn't have to courage.... my father...."
"What else do you have to tell me?" she raged still. "It's bad enough that we got married against our wills, and now this! What are you really, Anton?"
Her eyes slitted. For the first time, Anton looked away from her.
"What are you really, Anton?" she repeated insistently. "Why can't you look at me?"
Anton did not answer her.
"Are you really the man that I thought you were, Anton?" she taunted him. "Or a cock-sucking faggot? Is that what you are, Anton? A cock-sucking faggot?"
"That is enough!" he snapped at her.
"Why can't you tell me?" She threw him a smirk. Anton had loosened his hold on her arms; she impatiently shook him off.
Anton looked at her impassively. He bit his lip.
"Bakla!" she said. She spat the word like phlegm.
Anton stood still, unmoving, unable to say anything. His eyes were watering. He suddenly looked like a little boy who had been slapped by his mother.
The momentary silence was tight and strained. Clarissa glared at Anton, sizing him up. She knew she had struck a raw nerve in him, and suddenly, she wished she had never said that. Anton stared back despairingly; still at loss for words.
An angel passed by, Anton thought warily. He wanted to smile at the thought; but he couldn't. An angel was what he needed now; his marriage--his life--is on the verge of crumbling down.
"Clarissa," he said softly, tenderly. "I am gay. Bakla. Even before we even got married. I wanted desperately to tell you, but I couldn't. My parents--what would they say? I couldn't do anything, Clarissa...I had to follow my father's wishes...Like you, I had no choice...."
"So it has come down to this," she muttered. "This is a marriage for your convenience. For you to become a family man, which you are not. How dare you use me! How could you?"
She sat down on the bed and broke into tears.
"I'm sorry...." Anton murmured.
Anton felt like crying himself.
"Anton, why are you doing this to me?" she said softly through her sobs. "Just when I've learned to love you?"
Tears were flowing down Anton's cheeks.
"Clarissa, I have also learned to love you...believe me...."
Silence.
Clarissa was still weeping. She didn't want to look at Anton. Anton's eyes were on the carpet. He didn't want to look at Clarissa.
They were like that for several minutes, not saying a word, not looking at each other. They let the deafening silence calm them down; and soothe their anger and anguish.
Clarissa finally stood up. She picked up her two suitcases.
"I have to go," she said, walking briskly past him.
"Wait a minute," Anton followed her out of the room. "Where are you going?"
"We cannot live together anymore, Anton...."
They were in the living room.
"Clarissa, stop." He held her arm. Clarissa paused, and looked at him.
"Why are you leaving me?"
Clarissa slowly shook her head. "We cannot live together anymore... As much as I want to save this marriage, and our reputation, from falling apart, I couldn't bear the thought of seeing you each day...."
"What would our families say?"
"I don't care what they say," she snapped back. "Anton, you lied to me. You used me. You owe me my last shred of dignity. What else could you want from me?"
"Clarissa...."
"I can't live with you. Not now. I have no wish to suffer, Anton...."
"What about Christine? Where will she live?"
"I'm taking Christine with me."
"You can't do that!"
She stared defiantly at him. "I'm her mother. She needs me...."
"Don't do this, Clarissa," he pleaded. "Don't take Christine away from me!"
"I have to leave, Anton," she said, turning. Anton's hand fell to his side.
"Please, Clarissa!"
He was crying again.
"I'm his father! I have a say in this, too, you know...."
Clarissa went to the garage and loaded the suitcases in her car. Anton followed her, pleading and begging.
"What kind of a father are you, anyway?" she muttered, opening the door on the driver's side. "A father who fucks with other men? This is ridiculous, Anton. What would she say when she grows up?"
She went inside and shut the door. The motor roared to life. In a few minutes, the car was gliding smoothly down their driveway. It turned and disappeared towards the glittering lights of Makati.
Anton hopelessly stared at the miniscule twinkling lights of the city. Then he went inside and took down a bottle of whisky from the den's liquor cabinet. He spent the rest of the night drowning himself in self-pity and alcohol.
--ten--
Don Jose Castillo was angry; he was more than angry--he was simply furious. He went over to Anton and Clarissa's Forbes residence the following night and pounded on their door.
"Anton!" he thundered, shaking the doorknob. His wife hovered behind him, afraid and anxious of his boiling anger.
"Maybe he's not home...." she muttered weakly.
"He's here, I tell you!" he shouted, still pounding on the door. "He has not gone to work since morning, and he's not with his business associates or friends. He would not have even left the country! I'll know, Maria, I'll know, so shut up."
Maria Castillo paled, but she kept silent.
After a few more shakes on the doorknob, Don Jose stepped back and gave the door a vicious kick. It swung open easily.
"Anton!" he hollered, switching on the lights. The strong, heady smell of liquor met them. They wrinkled their noses in disgust.
"Anton! Anton!"
The whole house was a mess. Broken glass, plates and vases were everywhere. Tattered pieces of clothes were strewn among them. A mirror was smashed, its jagged fragments hung like silver daggers. Dried blood was smeared on them.
Maria was becoming alarmed.
"Jose! Something might have happened to Anton! Maybe we should call the police...."
"Shut up, Maria," he snapped at her. "Anton! Anton!"
Don Jose barged in the master bedroom. He switched on the lights. Maria gave a horrified shriek. Anton lay slumped on the carpet, motionless. His arms were stretched out before him; his hands were bloodied. Splatters and streaks of blood were graffitied on the bedspread.
Don Jose went down on his knees and pulled Anton up while Maria fluttered around making whimpering noises. He shook Anton's face, constantly shouting Anton's name.
For a moment, it looked like Anton was hardly breathing, but when Don Jose shook him again, he gave a low moan.
"Anton, wake up, you fool!"
Anton's dried lips opened and closed. His filthy breath disgusted Don Jose.
Don Jose slapped Anton's pallid cheek.
"Wake up!"
Anton struggled to open his eyes.
"Father?" he croaked out.
Don Jose pulled him up on his feet and dragged him out of the bedroom. He slammed the bathroom door open and turned on the tap. He drenched Anton's face with cold water. Anton gasped and spluttered; his eyes were opened wide with bewilderment as he met the furious glare of his father.
"Father...." It was all he could say.
"What happened between you and Clarissa?"
"Jose, he maybe hurt...."
"Shut up, woman!"
"Mother...."
Don Jose's fist shot out and Anton's head snapped sharply to his side from the force of the impact. Rich, red blood trickled lazily from his nostrils.
"Do you realize the scandal and the shame you have brought to our name?" Don Jose's eyes were blazing. Anton only stared back dully.
"What did you do?" Don Jose demanded. "What are you doing to your marriage? Why did she went back to her father in anger and tears?"
"Perhaps they should tell you...."
Don Jose whipped his hand across Anton's face. Maria was crying desperately for him to stop.
"Do not be impudent! Why are you doing this to us? You are threatening to tarnish our name in polite society!"
"I don't care anymore, Father...."
"You will go to her and save your marriage, Anton," Don Jose ordered him. He dragged him out of the bathroom and into the litter-strewn den. He pointed to the phone.
"Call her!"
"I can't...." Anton mumbled helplessly.
"And why not?"
"She wouldn't want to talk to me anymore...."
"And why wouldn't she do that?"
"Because I'm gay, Father!" Anton yelled vehemently.
Don Jose and Maria stood still, staring at Anton.
"I'm gay!" he yelled at their faces, his voice becoming hoarse.
"Puneta!" Don Jose muttered harshly.
"I'm gay...." Anton repeated, his voice quavering.
"I didn't raise you to be like that!"
"You never did...."
"Why are you doing this to us? You have shamed us all!"
"Us?" Anton raised an eyebrow. "Or is it only you? What do you care about me, anyway?"
"Do not talk like that!"
"I'll talk anyway I like, father!" Anton yelled again. "You think you could hold me back with guilt should you have another heart attack? I don't care anymore...."
"Anton!" Maria gasped.
"In fact, I wish you are dead!"
Don Jose's face was purple.
"Ungrateful son!"
Anton turned swiftly and brought his fist against the shattered mirror. The gilded frame shook as the glistening shards of glass sliced his knuckles. He slammed his fists into the glass again and again. Maria went to him, pleading him to stop. Anton was crying when he faced his father again.
"I did everything you asked me to do..." Anton sobbed, crumpling to the floor, his hands a bloody mess. "Everything! My education, my job and even my marriage--all because of you! Why can't you be the father I wished you would be? Why?"
Don Jose did not speak.
"You are a poor excuse for a father," Anton cried. "I hate you!"
"Stop it, Anton," Maria hushed him, still holding him in her arms.
"I hate you!" he repeated.
Don Jose dropped his glare and turned his back.
"I hate you!"
He walked quickly towards the door.
"I hate you!"
He was already outside. Yet he could still hear Anton's voice bitterly crying out.
"I hate you!"
--eleven--
Rumors about Clarissa and Anton's break-up were hot topics in society pages. Both families, however, refused to comment on their delicate relationship. Anton's superiors granted him indefinite leave.
Anton was in a catatonic state for three weeks. He refused to eat or drink; he would stare into empty space for hours, then suddenly break into crying spells.
Maria moved in with Anton, fussing endlessly over him like a mother hen. Anton was a little grateful for her company; he didn't know what else to do after Clarissa left him.
He spent his hours wallowing in self-pity and bitterness, still crying out his hate for his father.... And hate for himself.
The fair, balmy days heralded the onset of sun-kissed February. Anton still made no contact with the de Zobels. He wanted to know what had happened to Clarissa and to his daughter Christine, but he didn't have the courage to call her. When he mustered enough guts to call Clarissa, it was Don Simon's stern voice who answered on the other end.
One night, the phone rang. Anton warily answered it.
"Hello, Anton," she greeted him pensively.
He snapped to attention.
"Clarissa...." he murmured softly.
"How have you been doing?"
"I would be lying if I tell you I'm fine."
"I'm sorry to hear that...."
"How's Christine?"
"She's fine. She smiles a lot... it was your smile I see on her face...."
"How are you? How have you been doing?"
"I'm okay, Anton, thanks...."
"Clarissa, I have to see you...."
"No, Anton," her voice hardened. "I don't think that would be a good idea."
"Please...."
"It's over... Everything's over with...."
"I have to see Christine! I also have the right to see her!"
"Don't do this to me, Anton...."
"No! Don't you do this to me, Clarissa!"
"Anton...."
Silence.
Anton distinctly heard a sob on the other line.
"I'm leaving the following morning for New York, Anton," she continued, her voice breaking.
"What?"
"I'm bringing Christine with me," she added. "Papa said it would be best if I leave the country for a while."
"But for how long?"
"I don't know, Anton," she murmured. "I don't know...."
Anton paled.
"That means I won't see you or Christine again."
"I'll try to come back."
"Clarissa, let me see you before you go...."
"I can't. Papa told me to stay away from you."
"Please... think about Christine... let's forget out differences and think about Christine!"
Clarissa choked back a sob.
"My flat in Valle Verde... there will be a despedida... come after midnight...."
"Thank you, Clarissa..."
"Anton...."
"You don't know how much this means to me...."
"Anton...."
A long pause. Anton waited still.
"I still love you...." Clarissa murmured.
Before Anton could speak, there was a click and the line went dead. He stared at the phone, and stared at it for a long time.
I've always been in love with you....
--twelve--
"What are you thinking, Anton?" Clarissa asks tenderly, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. Anton shakes his head and hurriedly wipes his tears. He sighs heavily.
Madonna's thin voice still wafts from the living room speakers, still full of loss and longing.
"Madonna," he murmurs, looking at her. "I didn't know you liked Madonna."
"I never really liked her," Clarissa shrugs, giving him a weak smile. "But that song... it keeps haunting me... it was so beautiful...."
Anton does not speak. Slowly, he takes her hand and gently leads her to the living room. Clarissa looks at him, puzzled.
"Dance with me?" he says, grinning at her.
"What?"
"Dance with me," he repeats, placing a hand on her side.
Clarissa's eyes twinkles. Grinning widely at him, she places a hand on his shoulder and clasps his hand. Slowly, they swayed to Madonna's pensive music.
Wish you well....
Clarissa touches Anton's eyes.
"Your eyes are red," she says softly. "Are you always crying?"
I cannot stay....
"Is it bad for a grown man to cry?" he whispers.
You deserve an award for the role that you play....
"I don't think so," she answers, still looking at him tenderly.
"I know what you're thinking," he sighs. "I'll always be half the man you used to know...."
"Let's not argue, Anton...."
"I'm sorry...."
No more masquerade....
"I don't want to hate you, Anton... you are such a sweet man...."
You're one lonely star....
"Clarissa...."
I've always been in love with you....
"I will always love you," she whispers.
I guess you've always known....
Anton hugs her and starts weeping again, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. He buries his face in her hair. Clarissa gently caresses his neck.
You took my love for granted why, oh why....
"Don't leave me," Anton softly pleads.
Desperately.
The show is over say goodbye....
"No more words, Anton," Clarissa murmurs. "Just hold me while we dance...."
Her hair smells so sweet, her body so warm and comforting. Anton holds her tighter.
"Hold me before our last night is over...."
Say goodbye.
End of Part 3
Copyright (C) 1996, 2003 by Nelz Agustin. www.nelz.org