Lucid Desires

“Sex is natural. It is normal. It is a need. It can be our responsibility towards fulfilling the desires of our partners, or pleasure that most of us get addicted to.”

I sighed and glued my eyes to my notebook as I heard Mr. Landers, my Psychology instructor, implied how sex can be a vital part of our existence. He keeps on repeating that idea every time we are talking about needs, and wants, and pleasures. And he repeated it now for the hundredth time, I guess. He’s right. Sex can be good, but I belong to the minority of people who don’t care about that, not because I haven’t experienced it but because I know that somehow it can ruin our lives. Really.

It’s been a month since school started, and I am so thankful that I was able to get through the stressful times of the previous academic years. Those years prepared me to confidently face the upcoming academic challenges. And now, I am in the third-year level, closer to the finish line, with nothing but hopes and dreams that someday I will become a chef and a writer at the same time.

While Mr. Landers kept on talking, I shifted my gaze outside the window, and someone caught my attention. A girl, whose tears sparkled when struck by the subtle light of the twilight, was facing a guy with a dragon tattoo on his neck. I was in the middle of formulating my own explanation about what’s happening between the two strangers when the girl slapped the guy so hard in the face, leaving a pinkish mark. Then I was right. It’s a lover’s thing. I hate seeing scenes like this, but I want to rewind the part when the girl slapped the guy. It’s so satisfying to watch, at least for me. I could watch it all day.

“Ms. Reyes, can you tell me what G-spot is?” Mr. Landers asked, pinning his gaze to me.

I could hear elicited waves of laughter increasing, then decreased as I stood up. My knees were trembling and my hands were shaking, not because I don’t know what G-spot is, but because it’s my first time being asked about sexual matters by a man, and it made me feel uncomfortable somehow.

“Umm, it is originally known as Grafenberg spot...and it refers to a massive tissue held to exist on the anterior vaginal wall and is highly...umm,” I paused, easing my nervous self. “...erogenous,” I continued.

“Now, what do you feel when your partner reached your G-spot while having intercourse?” Mr. Landers asked me again while he’s walking back and forth across the endpoints of the whiteboard.

A deafening silence filled the room, escalating the embarrassment stirring inside me. Their mocking glances were darting me and I felt like I was standing inside a room with ovens turned on to a hundred degrees Celcius as my sweat gleamed on my forehead.

“I...umm...I don’t know. I haven’t tried it before,” I stuttered. “I haven’t experienced sex before.”

I froze. I felt like I was going to collapse anytime when I heard my classmates talking about me. Their voices buzzed like there were an army of bees lurking around, waiting for the right time to sting me, or my dignity

“Awwe, how sweet? Ms. Genius is a virgin,” a guy at the back yelled, making all of them laugh at me like I was telling a joke they never heard of before. “Who wants to volunteer?” he added.

I could feel my cheeks heating up. I wanted to run outside the room and pretend I didn’t exist, but I chose not to. I sat down and ate all the embarrassment I got from answering Mr. Landers’ questions. My tears wanted to fall and my heart beats like it’s pumping my boiling blood to be distributed to my taut nerves.

What’s the problem with being a virgin? At least I didn’t push myself to experience that crazy stuff. I know it’s a normal topic for adults, but it’s so hard to be in a society where losing virginity seemed to be a trend.

“Class, please refrain from laughing. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin!” Mr. Landers yelled, and silence filled the room again.

I fixed my position in the chair, took my notebook, and placed it back inside my bag while thinking about how to shut my classmates’ mouths forever, but I know I can’t. I am just a normal nerd who prefers to be in the corner and observe how everyone behaves or watch how everyone gets cheated by their “lovers.”

As I was busy organizing my things in the bag – which I always do before leaving – the bell rang and everyone stood up rapidly, leaving the room without bidding goodbye to Mr. Landers, as always. Nothing new about it.

“Class, don’t forget to use condoms when having sex with your partners. It’s better to be protected than not,” he said as he’s watching my classmates leave, then he followed.

My friend Lea, who was also a silent creature like me who prefers books over nightlife, came closer and tapped me in the shoulder, shocking me a little bit.

“What were you saying?” she asked. “You exposed your secret to all of our classmates. That’s a brave act but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Well, what I was supposed to do? I was asked, so I answered honestly.”

“That’s too honest. You should’ve just told them the possible answer. I know you know what you can feel when your G-spot is hit. It’s in the books, you silly bookworm,” she rolled her eyes, then laughed at me.

“Let’s just call it a failure. At least now everyone knows that I am a virgin. Anyway, I am ready for whatever form of bashing I’ll get from them,” I sighed.

“You are really unpredictable, Eunice,” she said. “Hey, I have to get going now. I and my mom will be celebrating her birthday at her friend’s house. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She kissed me on the cheek and headed outside.

“Please greet your mom for me!” my voice echoed down the hallway.

“I will. Please take care of yourself. You might lose your virginity on the way,” she yelled, then laughed.

Lea and I have been best friends since my first year of college. We have many things in common and we always have each other’s back whenever we have problems, may it be academic or personal. At first, I thought I will never have friends here in City College of New York, but Lea saw me sitting on the concrete stairway alone,  introduced herself to me, and offered her friendship. I admire her for that. Without her, I would probably be alone throughout the years with no one but my shadow as a friend.

When my mom decided to leave her business in the Philippines and live with my dad here in New York two years ago, I have no choice but to continue my college here. This is not really my choice because I was afraid that I would not make it through, knowing that it would take me years to adapt to this new environment.  The University of the Philippines was my dream school, but destiny didn’t agree.

I thought when my mom decided to live with my dad here, all will be well. I thought their relationship will be saved, but I was wrong. My dad chose his addiction to women over his own wife, so my mom left him – and me. Now, I am living with my dad, but I only got the chance to see him sometimes because when he gets home, I am already asleep.

I stopped by at a book store to buy some books about werewolves or vampires and went to a convenience store to buy some chips and soda. It was already eight-thirty in the evening when I got home. I was surprised when I saw my dad’s car already parked in the garage. As I opened the main door, moans and grunts filled the air. A pair of heels was placed beside the maroon flower pot and a woman’s coat was hanged in the rack.

As usual, dad brought another woman again.

I strolled past the first room, which was supposed to be my mom’s room, and stood in front of my dad’s room with the door open.

“Could you please lock your door for privacy at least? You are not the only one who lives in this house,” I yelled, and they stopped what they’re doing. They were both covered in a red blanket, and my dad’s sight went in my direction. “And please, lower your noise. It’s disgusting!”

“Just close the door, please,” he commanded. From the way he spoke, I can say he’s drunk.

I rolled my eyes and headed to my room upstairs, disappointment filled my heart. That’s the reason why mom left us. I hate my dad for being like this. Instead of giving time to his family, he chose his addiction to sex over us, destroying our family and the foundation I thought I could lean on.

As I already got into my room, I removed the cellophane covering from my newly bought books and placed them on the shelves. A picture I placed between my old books dropped to the floor as a slightly reorganized the shelves. My tears were lurking in the corners of my eyes as I saw my parents’ genuine smile while they were hugging me. It was a picture of us when I graduated from grade six as a valedictorian. Of all the family pictures I have, it’s the oldest one but it’s my favorite because their smiles were pure and their eyes tell a story that I will forever treasure.

I didn’t notice that I have been staring at the picture for almost an hour. I wiped my tears when I realized that  I should prepare myself dinner. I pinned my gaze at the woman sleeping in my dad’s bed, torturing and slapping her a thousand times in my head, as I had my way downstairs.

Dad was in the kitchen to drink some water. Sweat covered his back and I could hear him panting. Scratches were visible on his back like he was scratched by a crazy cat.

“When are you planning to stop all of this?” I asked, breaking the silence.

He stared at me while he’s drinking another glass of water.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said harshly.

“Oh, I forgot. I really shouldn’t be telling you what to do, because you are my dad. And as a father who is still married to his wife, you must know in yourself that what you are doing is wrong.”

“Your mom failed to give me what I want. She is my wife but she can’t satisfy –,”

“Have you ever asked yourself if you are being a good husband and a good father?” I cut him off. “You keep on bragging about your desires without even thinking about how mom would feel, or how I would feel. You are so selfish.”

His hands turned into fists while he stared at me with anger on his face. He took another glass of water and sat on the chair beside the refrigerator while I was opening a can of corned beef.

“If only your mother could give me –,”

“If only you knew that marriage is more than just sex, you would understand everything.”

“What do you know about marriage?”

“No. Ask yourself, dad, what do you know about marriage?”

He threw the glass on the wall, breaking it into pieces, and walked away. I continued preparing dinner for myself, not noticing the tears that fell down to my food. Questions kept circulating in my mind. Why does my mom marry a guy like him? Why do I have to be born in this family? Why my dad is like this? These questions seemed like bombs that could explode in my brain anytime.

Realizing how my mom suffered in the hands of my dad, I promised myself that I would never, ever, be hurt by a man. Not in this way. Not in other ways.