A Challenge More Than I

April 7, 2013

6:08 am

Christine Romulo

"Wake up! You need to get ready!"

Hazily, I open my eyes. I see the sun barely rising. She goes on to open every single curtain in my room. She even pulls my blankets away.

"I said wake up, Christine! Father's going to kill you if you are not at church within an hour."

I can't even deal with this right now. I try to rise up, but it's far too early. Somehow, she is already dressed up – like a 16th-century lady though. I see her browsing through my closet. Somehow, she just pulls out a white dress that I never wear. She tosses it on my bed before scurrying through my vanity.

"Wear that. Don't wear anything revealing!"

I get up and stretch for a bit. As I was just starting, she suddenly tosses a towel over my head.

"Don't be a slowpoke! Hurry up and take a shower."

In my annoyance, I put the towel over my shoulders. "Why do I have to get up this early anyway? And why are you suddenly choosing my clothes and saying that I have to be at the church right now?"

Without even looking at me, she pulls a pair of pearl earrings from my jewelry box and places it on the dress. "Christine, I had you signed up to become a pianist down at the church. You are a capable pianist. You can sight read. I think you will do."

That's when she got me. I can see her clearly now for what she is doing. I did not sign up for this. "And what is this? Father's ploy to make me into a nun?"

"Shut up, Christine! We both know there are rumors circulating about your promiscuity. Be grateful that, as your family, we are trying to fix this altogether. Now do your part and take a shower."

With that, she walks out of my room with her clattering heels and jingling bracelets. Well, I guess I can't do anything about it now. Father did say something about this yesterday. Eh, I don't really care. I suppose I can still do my work despite being… a nun, I suppose.

After an hour of preparation, and an eternity of Margaret's annoyance, we arrive at the church quite early. That there is no one there. As I step out of the car, I see this church at its full glory. The sun rises behind it like a new creation. The gardens that surround it speak as if the church is the master, and they are the mere slaves. As I look, I cannot help but be in awe.

"Come on," Margaret says, as she beckons me to go inside.

The inside of the church speaks more than its exterior. I see the sunlight piercing through the stained-glass windows. The floors reflect the light of colors from the stained glass. Each step I take, I hear my stilettos clatter loudly. It is empty but beautiful. In front is the altar of the priest with a crucifix right above it. On the side is a piano with various seating for the choir.

As I walk, I now find myself at the center of this church. I find myself at the spotlight of the sunshine piercing through. It was as if I am a dancer in this masque. I look behind me, and Margaret is gone. Where did she go?

I look at the piano once more. It is tempting to touch for its beauty. However much I try to stay away, I find myself drawing near it every second. I see it closed, but I open it in its full glory from the cover to the chair. I carefully sit as if I am already taking the position. This is who I'll be for as long as the rumors die down. I reach for the keys. It's quite… beautiful. I begin pressing a few notes just to see if the tuning is right. It is perfect.

And that is when I unleashed my fire. I put my stuff down and remove all the jewelry from my arms. This is how I will scream my agony to be here. I began playing the first notes of the Moonlight Sonata. Its first movement, of course. As time goes by, I shifted to the agonizing third movement. I hear the music in every corner of this church. You won't like me being your pianist, Word Miracle Church, for I am not a gentle spirit.

As I finish the piece, I feel my sweat coursing through my face. I can even feel myself panting out of tiredness. I look around, and there is already one person ready for a mass. I see him look at me with a smug smile. It's a smile that I want to erase off his face. It's as if he is picking a fight with me.

But somehow, I look at him. He is quite the appealing man. Oh, hell no. He is not the bodybuilder type, but the classy ones, like the smart executives in my father's office. His eyes are covered with spectacles that widen his eyes. His hair is smooth and is the color of mahogany. Even his lips speak the same language.

That's when I knew. I want him.

I put all my jewelry on. I look at him again, and he seems oddly disinterested. You will be interested soon enough. I walk towards him as slowly as I could. Still, no attention from him. My, oh my. This is a challenge more than I.

"Hi," I say amiably towards him.

I look at him in the eye with a pleasant smile from my face. He simply nods with a blank face. "Good morning."

He does not even show any form of intention. An odd man indeed. I sit beside him and keep my smile straight. "It's quite early to be here, don't you think?"

"Same goes for you," he replies monotonously. He looks straight ahead, not looking at me. "A great performance, by the way, but your interpretation is all wrong."

My eyes widen. I cannot help but purse my lips. This is not a man that you can sweet talk to take him to your bed. "Oh, and how is it wrong?"

"Moonlight Sonata is about passion, not fury. Frankly miss, you show the latter. Better off play a Kreutzer if you are going to pick a fight with Beethoven."

Smart man. Even he made me speechless. It looks like I am not picking a fight with a composer. I am picking a fight with a… stoic. "And, what do you know about passion, sir? Do you have any lessons you can teach?"

He lets out an amused smile. "Start with your piano lessons, miss, for I have none to teach. You are playing a game with the wrong person."

With a seductive smile, I twirl my hair before him. "What game am I playing then?"

"Seduction," he says frankly. "Like the game of Delilah and Salome. Sad to say, Miss Romulo, though you have the name of 'Christ' in your name, your virtue is not the same."

With that, he rises from his seat and walks away. I feel defeated at my own game. But still, it got me thinking. How does he know my name? Who is that man?