5 Your Romeo
She opened her email account, and there were a lot of spam emails again. What heartache, nothing from 'friends' at all. She scrolled down until she saw an email from a certain 'Your Romeo'. The email address was your_romeo@yahoo.com.
What a choice of name? Who sent it to her? She hurriedly clicked the email to read its contents. Her imagination ran wild again, and the fantasy realm unfolded where Romeo, from the 'Romeo and Juliet' epic story, sent her a letter and confessed his love and devotion to her. Alas, the email opened unhurriedly due to the slow internet connection.
Just imagine an image of something, slowly unfolding in front of the computer monitor. One would glance on the clock, watching the second-hand tick from 1 to 12 while waiting for the whole thing to totally show itself. Well, her internet connection was just a bit faster than that, but it still took half a minute before the email showed a short message.
(Hi there,
How are you? I felt bad that you didn't go back to school after we met at your classroom door. I wished I was able to help you at that time. You were crying a lot that you were not able to hear me speak.
Don't give up. You're an intelligent girl. I believe in you. I'll be here to support you if you need any encouragement or in any way I can. Btw, I got your email address from your school file.
Your Romeo)
"What the heck is this? We met there, exactly the same time I was bullied? Was he the guy I bumped into? Does he know me? He did not seem to be my classmate, for he talked as if it was his first time meeting me." Beauty was really baffled. How could he console and advise her if they do not know each other?
"To use such name, 'Your Romeo'. What did it mean? It meant 'My Romeo', my lover, right? Of all names, he chose Romeo with 'your' that represents possession. Is he my Romeo?" The assumed name was really misleading her fantasies.
Her mind was running in circles now as if it was going to short-circuit soon for overthinking about this guy. Was he one of her classmates? Would she get the chance to meet him personally? She giggled, thinking of how it might feel dating someone for the first time.
She hurriedly replied to the email, not sure what to say. The undecided just ended up writing a simple message to him.
(Dear Your Romeo,
I don't know how to call you, but I just left it as is. I felt bad reading your letter just now, even if you sent this a long time ago. I'm fine now, still trying to move on with my life. Thank you for your concern, but honestly, I can't remember you.
Were we classmates? Can you tell me your name? It will be unfair if I don't know you while you know me.
Thank you for writing.
Happy,
Beauty)
She thought of asking for a picture, but she couldn't make herself to do it. To inquire if they were classmates and ask for his name were already a great challenge for her. She wrote, then erased, and rewritten the whole line. The process happened five times before she strengthened her heart to include it in the email.
This was the starting point of their vague relationship. They sent correspondence a lot of times, and he became one of her source of enjoyment in that silent and peaceful island. He did not tell her his true name, and she tried not to ask again since he wanted it that way.
She even daydreamed that one day, Your Romeo would ask to meet her personally. She tried to draw beautiful matching clothes she imagined she would wear for that day. The girl even thought of asking Grand Mommy to ask a seamstress to sew it for her, and then she would buy matching shoes. Youthful hearts could make one foolish move sometimes. Could also be accounted as folly if not careful.
(Your Romeo,
I liked cooking and making dishes presentable. How about you? What are your hobbies?
Beauty)
(Beauty,
Really? I like to cook, but I like eating the most. Can I ask a favor? Can you cook and send a photo of your dish? Or even old photos of your cooking.
Your Romeo)
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"Hmm, will I send him one or not? Hmm ... well, OK, I'll just send him those photos."
(Your Romeo,
I was reluctant to send them at first, but I changed my mind. But these are not new anymore. I made some cooking experiments when I was in junior high school. Here, three of them. Hope you understand what I mean. Reminder: I don't want anyone to copy my designs and photos without my approval and make a fortune out of it.
Beauty)
She shamelessly used the number three with a meaning 'I love you' in mind. Since she could not express openly what's in her heart, she just used her actions, reasoning that her thoughts would pass through Your Romeo's mind like current, believing the man received the electromagnetic signals and then accepted them. No one could easily understand her thought process.
Unfortunately, it really did not get through the guy.
(Beauty,
Wow, these photos are nice. I have an uncle who has a restaurant. Can I show these photos to my uncle? I assure you that this uncle of mine is trustworthy. He might even pay you for your photos. Come on, just agree. Please trust me.
Your Romeo)
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(Your Romeo,
OK, I agree. Remember, I trust you. Don't break your promise.
Beauty)
(Thanks, Beauty, you're the best!)
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In a big office of Fancy and Elegant Food Ltd., a 10-story building in Manila, a handsome youth was sitting in front of a large table. A middle-aged man in his forties, who was the owner of the office, was sitting on the opposite side, looking at Beauty's photos. On the table, there's a golden two-dimensional, one-foot-long, rectangular plate with the name, Clyde Peres, Chairman, etched on it.
The man and the youth almost had the same features, and the latter was more like the younger version of the former. They were apparently father and son.
The older version was bigger in body structure while the younger one was medium in build. They have the same height, 186 cm, with deep black eyes and aquiline nose. These features sat on a well-shaved, manly face with a strong jaw that emits dominance.
To differentiate the two, one glance at the father was all it took to see the aura of authority, wisdom, and wealth of experience surrounding him. In comparison, the son was like a subtle tree: not as authoritative, but his charm was in his posture and manner of speaking. He could enchant others to submit and accept his every word, making others to elect him as president in every club he joined.
At the black cushioned sofa near the large table, a lady with long black, flowing hair up to the waistline was sitting elegantly, wearing a formal black blouse and skirt. Her height was a bit shorter than the middle-aged man, but her slim figure and long legs fooled others to make it look like she was taller. She wore the face of a trophy beauty when she was younger. Those facial features would also make one believe she might still be in her thirties; but actually, she was already in her late forties.
"Clarence, these are good photos. Such an artistic mind behind the intricate designs of food presentation. There are some parts that can be changed to make it more elegant and inviting. For the whole, I give a 90% passing grade. Where did you get these?" the man asked the youth, who was obviously Clarence.
He was the same age as Beauty, and he was wearing a uniform of a prestige school, Broad Ridge School of Arts. It was a well-known school from preschool to college that covered courses for the arts.
"Dad, these are designs made by a girl, one of the classmates of our delivery man's son. Do you like them? You can pay for them."
Clarence became Beauty's salesperson who had paved the road for her with this conversation. This also made his parents more curious about this unseen lady's identity that was receiving their son's attention.
