1st ♕

I watched as my phone's backlight went on and off. The ballad song that was her ringtone went on for a while. During these past years, I associated that particular sound to a fire alarm. A distinct tone that would always tell told you that something was going or would go wrong whenever you heard it.

I might as well get drunk in my tears tonight,

'Cause I miss you, 'cause I love you.

It was her favorite song, Good Meeting You. So whenever she had the slightest time to call, I'd get to hear the song again.

I never asked about the singer. His name might be long forgotten in history, for all I knew. And whoever he was, he had committed a humongous crime against my world.

With the unusual attachment my mother had with that song, I had placed my bet that it was the very song that was playing on the background when she had met my dad. Maybe it was in a bar, dimly lighted as the music softly haunted the place. I'd never known the story. I never had the chance to ask. I personally couldn't even imagine asking. My situation was not as simple as I'd prefer it to be. But it might be one of those I'd speculated before.

One thing that was clear to me was that my mom drunkenly loved my dad in the most literal sense. Like she was intoxicated with the thought. Obsessed, even. I'd like to blame her, really, but my dad got this looks that could make anyone go in absolute awe whenever he passed by, or after they passed out, whichever came first.

Flipping over the cover of my cell phone, I said, "Hey, Mom?"

"Georgey honey, how are you?" she answered back on the other line.

"I'm okay. How are you doing?" I lay down on my bed; the cushion was flattened in between my bed and my back. I could feel the wooden frame pressing against my spine. All this while, I'd regarded the situation as ticklish. Since we lived in the world of make-believe, it was up to you to label things by your own definition. So mine was ticklish.

"Mom misses you so much. Why didn't you drop by when I was there the other week?" she asked with enough worry. My mom worked in real estate. She was everywhere, showing people different homes that could be theirs.

How ironic.

"I was busy with school," I replied.

"Really? I told you to take it easy. School is nothing, trust me," she told me.

"I applied for college," I answered.

"You'll only waste your time there. Just get in love and go get married, like the way I did. You'll miss half of your life—"

I heard her make a sound as if to throw up.

"—be back in a moment."

"Sure. I'll wait," I told her, going back to the textbook that I was reading earlier. It was odd to hear those words from my own mother, but it was like her to say it.

I had no idea where she got that source of conviction. For one, she was thoroughly aware that I hadn't been in love. The last time I felt my heart flutter, I killed it. Before anyone else could, I did the job. Two, what was love? It was nothing but a loophole. An opportunity to make yourself vulnerable. How could something like that be your source of happiness? Be your life, for that matter?

I shuddered at the thought.

So upon reminder, I thoroughly scanned the page of the history textbook that I had borrowed from Pete a few weeks ago. Having the thought that I'd just spend my life wasting away, like my mom, was scary.

"I'm back. I feel so much better after getting it all out and having a sip of coffee. Hangover's such a kill," Mom said, after I answered her call again. "So about your graduation yesterday, I know I've missed it. To make it up to you, I'm going to send over a little bit money for you to spend on yourself."

"Really?" Excitement came out too soon.

"Just get it from the usual place," she added.

"Will do. Gee... thanks," I said, sticking a paper between the pages of the book that I was holding. I might as well get the allowance that would save me from hunger for about a day or two. Or three. Hey, it was a graduation present. I should expect more.

"I know you'll like it! I'll talk to you again later. Oh, before I hang up, is your dad there?" The eagerness in her tone was hard to miss. This drunken love just went on and on for ages.

"Um..." I paused, thinking twice. Then settling for a fictional answer, I continued, "...he left about an hour ago. He's looking for a decent job nowadays."

"Is that so?"

Surprise. Surprise.

"Yeah," I lied. The last time my dad had a real job was eons of years ago.

"I'll just call you again... maybe later. Oh, Roger's back. Bye for now, honey," Mom said all in one go.

"Okay," I answered, and then I heard the subsequent click. There was nothing new. In fact, I'd get a heart attack if Roger wanted to talk to me, or even be remotely nice to me for a change. Or let my mom talk freely to me without his lingering jealousness for whatever reason he possessed. Mom, in whatever state of mind, knew enough to end the call before I'd hear unnecessary things.

Roger was my mom's husband. Legal husband, that was. Ever since he had known about my existence, which my mom thoroughly hid until a month before the wedding—when the news abruptly came about when Roger met my biological grandmama—he clearly told Mom to get rid of me or else he would never set foot in church. Mom instantly sent me over to my dad without a word. I wasn't invited to their wedding. I wasn't surprised, either.

Yeah, me and my life.

"George!" Mom called from outside my room. "Can you buy a few ingredients from the market?"

"Coming," I replied. Before anyone would think that my mom suddenly teleported outside my room or we were only having friendly chitchats on the phone when we were both in the same house, it wasn't any of that.

I had two moms.

Two.

Wasn't that sweet? It made my world go round. Maybe having one wasn't enough, so they gave me two. For the record—and my secret amusement—I both called them mom:

Mom no. 1

Mom no. 2

But I must admit that, at the end of the day, Mom no. 2 was the better side of the dark clouds. The silver lining. I might have been scolded multiple times by her, but we shared a lot of things together.

Like my dad.

And by sharing, this time, it didn't mean that I had to move out and go to someone else's house again. Surely, I was created by two people only. Since my mom had thrown me away to my dad, where else could I go? Biological grandmama, maybe, but she wasn't that fond of me.

Between Mom no. 2 and I, Dad was our common ground, from the day Mom no. 2 made the mistake of saying her vows to him. I took my fair share of responsibility for what happened, because I let her say those words and never warned her of the danger to come. The killer look was everything my dad had. Past that, there was nothing. It was all superficial. So I tried my best to get along with Mom no. 2, and we were doing a great job for about five years now.

"Are you coming out here, or do I need to drag you out?" Mom no. 2 asked. I could hear her footfalls getting closer to my room.

I got out of bed. "Almost there. Almost holding the—"

The door of my room slammed open, almost breaking to pieces. She must know that we had no extra budget for that this month. She should really take it easy.

Mom no. 2's dark brown hair that was tied in a bun was all over the places; a worn out shirt hovered over her usual jeans. "Does it really have to take you five minutes before you get out of bed?"

'Door knob,' I really wanted to say, but she beat me to it.

"I'm on it," I said, pulling out a clean shirt from my closet.

"Did you already get paid for your part time?" Mom no. 2 asked, emptying her pockets and producing some change. "All I have left are these and..."

As usual, there was nothing after the 'and'. I got it. We didn't have enough to last for today. "Yeah, I can get it from old man. What do we need?"

Mom no. 2 handed me a receipt with some things written on the back. "You can omit some things if you don't have enough."

"It's okay. I think my pay will cover everything," I said to her, heading to the front door. "I'll be back in a few."

♔~♕

I went to get the money that Mom no. 1 gave me as a graduation present. I had nowhere else to get it from. The place where I was working at couldn't afford to give me more than three shifts per week. The business was bad these days, old man said. Donations were also few.

When I received the money that Mom no. 1 had sent me, a part of me was expecting more than what I'd always known. You know, wishful thinking? But with her drunken computations, a graduation gift for her daughter amounted to five cheeseburger meals at a fast food restaurant.

Or make that four. It was short by fifty cents.

I found myself getting amused. Dwindling on trivial matters wouldn't make fifty cents appear out of nowhere. So with a wistful sigh, I headed to the market.

At first, I was puzzled why the main road leading to the market was busier than the usual. And then, I was surprised. And then, I got annoyed. Busy was a norm here, as this town was the capital of Triavia. But today seemed like another town had managed to squeeze its way into ours.

"Ouch! Watch it," I told this guy, who bumped right into me. Wherever you made a turn, someone was at your face. Everyone was walking and bumping into each other. It was a tough fight to get where you wanted to go.

"Weirdo," I heard him mutter in response.

Freak.

"It's today. They're giving out the details today," a girl said to the other one walking beside her. They were heading in the same direction as I was, so eavesdropping was hard to avoid.

"I'm so excited for this! Do I look okay? Shall we go back to the salon before the interview?" the other one bubbly replied.

"We should! I heard that the prince will..." the voice faded away. The two of them were walking in a fairly fast speed. A part of me wanted to catch up and hear what they were going to say, but I was dragged back when a wave of people joined the moving crowd. Going back was an impossible option as well. There was no other choice but to just go with the flow.

The last time I was out of the house was yesterday. From what I could recall, several of my classmates were talking giddily about something. I didn't catch what it was, though. Maybe this was it, whatever commotion was going around.

The mood around town was so festive that it was as if a new king would be crowned anytime soon. But I saw the news several days ago, and the king was very much alive as he was giving his speech. Why would there be a need for a new king?

In Central Park, right around the huge fountain, I saw people gathering around. It was also when I realized where everyone was going. With all the due shrieking and fainting going along, I also noticed that the mob was mostly composed of girls around my age. Some of them were from my high school.

Someone approached me, as I was getting near the crowd. She asked, "Are you also here to get some flyers?"

I turned to my right and saw a lady around Mom no. 1's age. She had a pile of papers in hand. Wondering what was going around, I asked, "What flyers?"

She handed me one. "Didn't you know?"

"Know what?"

"Well, that's a first."

"What flyers? A raffle?" I read the contents of the paper that everyone seemed to be getting frantic about. I was about to ask the lady if they were giving away grocery coupons or free meal stubs, but I reminded myself that one should keep enough dignity for herself. A second later, after I read the first part of the paper, I realized that the fuss wasn't about giveaway foods.

Too bad.

Why was I even caught up here? I should have stuck to the original plan of going to the market to buy the ingredients that Mom no. 2 had asked me to bring home.

"Are you also going to try out? It's open for every girl your age," flyer lady said.

"A tiara fit for a princess. A prince in search for a girl. Are you the one?" I read the contents in a monotone.

"You got that right! It's time to find a princess for the younger prince," the flyer lady was very much happy to tell me the news.

"Is that so?" The younger prince's life was harder than I had imagined. I thought that dealing with my parents was torture enough, but at least I didn't have to play a role in a search like this.

"If only a prince was looking for a wife when I was your age. You girls are so lucky," flyer lady continued saying, looking around at the frantic mob. These girls looked as if their whole lives depended on this.

"I can't believe how unfortunate I am, then," I replied, skimming through the details. The flyer said that one of the qualifications was that the prince wanted someone with an interesting personality. If he were here, he'd know that ninety percent of the girls lining up for him had it. From what I could see, his life would never be dull again.

Lots and lots of screaming. And crying. And all the mad love.

I pitied the guy.

There were two princes in Triavia. The Crown Prince got married eight years ago, creating a commotion like this, from what I'd heard. I was only ten by then, so I couldn't clearly remember a thing about it. The eldest was currently being shaped to be a king someday, so he mostly got the attention. From the papers, it was said that the Crown Prince was an intelligent man, far wiser than his age.

The younger one was seldom put in the spotlight. He was always lurking around in the shadows. When his older brother was digging up grounds for ecoparks, he was clapping his hand in the background. During instances when his brother did the first throw in a baseball game, he was in the audience, still clapping in support. And when his brother had endorsed the newest Olympic-sized pool in the city, he had become true to himself. Unfortunately, instead of being a reliable source of support, the younger prince had been caught sleeping on one of the beach chairs around the pool and getting a tan.

It was one slip, and everyone made a big deal out of it.

From that day on, the younger one was called the laid-back prince. But all this while, I could understand where he was coming from. When someone else was doing the job all right, there was no reason to make a scene and steal the spotlight.

"Isn't it amazing how the princes get to choose from the royalties to the common people?" flyer lady said. She liked staying by my side and talking to me. "During times like this, everyone is equal."

"Isn't it because those princes just want to broaden their choices? It's still for their pleasure," I answered. "There's no one else who gets it better than them."

"But it's not that easy to choose from such a vast number," flyer lady replied.

"They don't have to, really. No one told them to. They should just stick to the normal tradition of our ancestors and marry someone of their status."

"You're different," flyer lady noted.

"I get that a lot." Whether good or bad, that was the compliment I mostly received.

"Just try it out. You'll never know," said flyer lady. "See what they're up to."

"Not my thing," I said, holding my hands up. "You'll never catch me dead walking to that interview."

"Don't assume things like everything is definite."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm only saying that you're talking as if you know for sure what will happen tomorrow."

"It's all about choices. I only chose not to. I'm sure the younger prince will not realize that he missed someone like me, because he doesn't even know me in the first place," I explained to her. "The line will be long. There are thousands to choose from. There will be someone interesting from that vast number, I presume."

Flyer lady moved her forefinger side to side. "There's nothing definite unless it happens."

"I won't. Look," I replied, exasperated, "I just need to buy some things at the market. I don't even know why we're talking about this. I'm the last girl in this kingdom who will ever be fit to be a princess. So really."

"You'll never know," she said with an amiable smile. "I might see you there later on."

"Not happening," I said, waving a hand goodbye. "Just call the next in line."

~Author's note~

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