Daily Tribune“Beyond doubt the work of a powerful writer. Can make male writers red with envy in conveying the power of sex and loss.” —Timothy Montes. This story contains sensitive themes. Reader discretion is advised.
Photo by ASTRONAUD23 on Unsplash
As the car he was riding pulled up to a stop as the traffic light turned red, Donis caught sight of a stranger outside. Just another random face amongst the throng of commuters, waiting for the next available jeepney or bus or tricycle or taxi to pass them by. A young woman, with hair dyed a bright purple. She suddenly looked in his direction, and they had a brief second of eye contact through the car’s untinted window. She gave him an awkward smile before she immediately averted her gaze. Donis reminded himself that it was a smile of pleasantry. Not invitation.
Still, he found his gaze travelling down her face and to her chest, the low-cut tank top she wore accentuating her breasts. Just then, the light turned green and the car jolted into motion. He felt the vibration from underneath his smart leather shoes travel straight to his crotch. With a guilty cough and a red face, he shifted in his seat and adjusted his duffle bag over his lap, staring intently at the swinging air freshener on the rearview mirror. Thank God, the driver was too focused on the road to notice. Still, fresh out of rehab, and already falling back into old habits.
Deep breaths in, deep breaths out.
He could do this. He wouldn’t be affected by the sensations creeping up his body. He wouldn’t even look at any woman outside again. He had to do this. With every sway of the car, the air freshener swung from the rearview mirror and hit the windshield with a dull thump, thump, thump that reminded him of the chime of his cellphone’s ringtone with every message that he received from his wife a month ago when she stormed out.
“I tried to look the other way, Donis, I really did.”
“You need help, and I’m not just going to sit around this house until you do.”
But…sex was just sex. Donis really did not understand what was so wrong with that. Even though his wife, Venus, would always be the only woman he loves and will ever love, he knew what the doctors at the Houses of Recovery Rehabilitation Centre called him: a sex addict. As if his cravings for the pleasures of the flesh somehow made his love worthless. There didn’t need to be strings involved — just the performative, awkward, sweet, rough act of it. Love and sex could be mutually exclusive. He had known that ever since he was nine years old.
As he sat in the back of the car, watching the scenery turn familiar as he neared home, he let himself get lost in the vibrations of the engine that travelled dangerously and sinfully all over his body. He closed his eyes and pictured first his wife’s naked body, and the moles that hid under her clothing that only he knew about. Then of his most recent affair before going to rehab: Maria, a fourth-year accounting student who liked biting his shoulder when he made her come. Then, of Anna, the casino dealer who looked amazing in her black and white uniform and her long legs, who could bend in ways that even a gymnast would be jealous of. Then, of Lily, the nurse at the clinic of the office he worked in, whose sweet demeanour hid a beast with moves that made even him blush. He had tasted the salty skin of so many women, swallowed their cries with his tongue in their mouths, touched them until their smells were etched in his fingers even after he had washed them thoroughly.
These were all beautiful moments of passion, but they were just sex. He did not bother with the pretences of affection and made it clear that he did not want to be attached to them.
He only ever made love with Venus. He conveyed it through the tenderness in which he caressed her skin and tasted the valley between her breasts. With her, he took his time, always making sure she finished first before he did. Donis never did dare to make eye contact with all the others when he reached his climax, afraid that they’d see the pleasure and mistake it for something deeper that he couldn’t give them. But with Venus, he could bare himself even more than what his nakedness could offer her. When he reached paradise where stars swam in the space behind his closed eyelids, he always made sure she knew. He always made sure she knew that she was the cause. She was the key in which all the secrets of heaven were unlocked to him. Venus was the anchor that tethered his raging fire. She understood that there was more to him than the golden facade. Her brown eyes would turn black as he danced to the melody of her whimpers, enveloping him with a gaze that spoke of devotion. After she came, he knew he would always be close behind. She was his wife and lover.
Donis never hid his urges from Venus even before they got married. After all, he had assured her so many times that she would always be the woman he loved, and that the others were just a means to scratch an itch. And what was the crime in that? He never missed an STD testing appointment. He was a safety guy with an assortment of condoms that bordered on a collection. He always got their clear consent, never initiated contact unless given the green light. And above all, he never got with a married woman. And all seemed well. Venus had said “okay” at first when he informed her of his affairs, until eventually it turned to an indifferent “mhm”, and then to a careless “do what you want”, and then to silence.
Silence that culminated in her exploding at him after dinner one summer night, as he was rubbing her shoulders and planting hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Venus suddenly pushed him away from her, just as Donis was about to ask her if they should go to bed. As she stared back at him and took in his aroused state, she gave him a look of pure disgust and pain. Donis, who had never found a sexual encounter intimidating, suddenly felt uncertain. And when Venus stormed out of the house, only bringing with her a tiny purse with her wallet and her phone, he stood up from where she left him and looked at himself in the mirror, trying to see what she saw. The red of his face and the bruising of his lips, at any other time, would have made him feel like a god. But that time, he only saw a disgusting pig. Venus had never said no to him before, so why now? Was she tired of sharing him with other women, despite knowing she was a cut above the rest? Why was she leaving? Why?
He shook his head to clear the painful memories, and he resolved to let the past stay in the past. The only way to move forward was to commit to actions that would let him meet his wife where she wanted to be met. Step one, rehab, was done. Thirty days without wine, women, and song, done, all for his marriage. Next step was going back home to their house at Magallanes, making up with his wife, and showing her that he was doing all this for her. Donis was denying who he was at his very core just so he could make Venus happy.
When the Grab car he ordered pulled up to their gate, he shook his legs to clear them of the manic energy that had been building up during the ride. Before Donis stood up, he looked underneath his duffle bag to take a peek if there was evidence of his building excitement. And when he found nothing standing where it shouldn’t be, he exited the car. He made his way through the front door and up the winding stairs of their house, his stride purposeful. He was a man renewed and a man who overcame the most primal of instincts. Venus would see him in a new light. He remembered her angry face the night she stormed out, and he replaced that image with her face the day of their wedding. Where there was agony and disgust before, there was now love and gentleness and acceptance. He walked faster, letting the excitement pulse through his body until his heart hammered in a crescendoing rhythm that bordered on ecstasy. He hasn’t even touched her or seen her yet, and he was already throbbing and ready.
This was the proof of his devotion to her. Taking two steps at a time as he made his way to their bedroom, he could already see his wife’s face in his mind’s eye.
He was coming. Yes, he was coming. Almost there. I’m almost there, Venus. I’m close. Oh, God. I’m almost there, Venus. I’m coming.
He would make love to her and only to her from now on, and they will come together. He would be hers. He would fight so that he would be hers alone, and no one else’s. She would hold him with her tender hands. He would look at their matching gold bands, and he would be reminded why he endured thirty days in that dismal place in Quezon City to begin with. Donis knew he would find Venus on the balcony of their bedroom, with a novel and a cup of tea. She did this every Sunday afternoon, basking in the sun with only a small fan to help with the heat. Her feet would be tucked underneath her, her hair in a messy bun instead of the sleek look she always wore when she worked. She would be waiting for him.
But he felt before he saw that something was missing. In his excitement, he failed to see that her keys weren’t hanging by the door, that her usual shoes were missing from the rack. He didn’t hear the silence of the fan that should have been buzzing. He didn’t see her golden band sitting on top of the coffee table with a note that bore his name. He tore open the bedroom door, already unbuttoning his shirt and preparing to loosen his belt, and only then he felt her absence. Their bedroom was just as he left it a month ago when he packed his things with Venus watching silently. The air was musty from disuse. The aircon and fan were turned off.
Then, before he could turn around and make his way downstairs to search the rest of the house, his phone chimed Venus’ familiar ringtone.
“I love you, but you just make it so difficult. I’m staying at my mother’s for two months. Let’s discuss our separation when I get back.”
He sank to his knees right there in the middle of their empty bedroom, staring at the gold wedding band on his finger that he had been fidgeting with the entire ride home. With hot tears spilling down his cheeks and a guttural cry, he unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. Donis bit the knuckle of his left hand where his wedding ring sat, feeling the cold metal against his tongue, while his other hand worked deftly in between his legs. Agony, and then ecstasy, and then wretchedness. The sound of groans and gasps filled the room, accompanied by the breeze and the sounds of the Manila summer air outside. When he felt tremors of pleasure rack through his body, it wasn’t Venus on his mind anymore.
Instead, he was back at his childhood home. A two-storey house that faced the west, letting in the orange afternoon sun. From his perch on the second-floor balcony overlooking the main street, he heard the rustling of the leaves from the trees. And from behind him, he tried to block out the sounds of gasps, giggles, and moans coming from the main bedroom. He had to keep his eyes and ears open. He had to stay alert.
His mother had entrusted him with the most important of jobs. She had knelt in front of him, and Donis knew he had to listen carefully and prove to his mother that he was worth the trust she placed in him. She was giving him the most important of jobs, a task that weighed heavily on his young shoulders. He knew the gravity of the consequences should he fail.
She told him, You’re a big boy now, Donis. I need you to watch the street and then knock on the bedroom door to warn us if you see your father’s car coming up the driveway, okay? I have to know if he’s coming. Let’s keep this a secret between you and me. Your father won’t understand. I love him, but he just makes it so difficult. And sex is just sex. I’m sure you understand. Yes? Yes. That’s my brave boy.
Donis felt his heart hammering in his chest. Felt the blood rise up to his head until his extremities were numb, felt the cold sweat coating his hot and aching body. Faster and faster, as if time was running out. Desperate throbbing, gasping and crying. He heard the slick sounds of carnal pleasure pulsating in the bedroom, the sensations building up in a symphony of quickened heart rate and dilated pupils. Still, he kept an ear out for the rustling of the trees outside. Outside, the rumble of a passing car echoed through the street. He felt the vibrations in the air land on his skin and travel straight to his crotch. A lump formed in his throat, making him incapable of forming any words. Donis barely comprehended the dread and guilt and fear as the realisation sunk in:
He was coming. Oh God, he was coming. And she didn’t know.
