Twenty-Five Years of Martyrdom

You may have heard of many stories of forbidden love affairs and cried on their endings. The woman marries someone she doesn’t love, turning her back on what would make her happy. You may have hated the man whom she married against her free will all throughout the story. Well, I have a little story for you, a story of a martyr husband—the antagonist in your eyes—and his miserable marriage for twenty-five years. You should know that a man like him, get hurts, too. A lot.

I could have just said, “I don’t” or “no” and run away from my wedding night and start anew. Or I could have just said “I’m impotent” and suggest to my wife adopting abandoned children from the orphanage. Or best, I should have just jumped from the highest building or drowned myself in the deepest sea or simply, shoot myself with a .45 caliber gun. But no… I married Evelyn, the woman I loved the most, told her the truth that I cannot give her any child and let her ex-lover give me one.

June 1982. Evelyn and I were the wedding couple of the year. Despite the political upheaval happening in our country, we managed to be married in the Manila Cathedral with over five hundred aristocratic and political guests. It was a perfect traditional Filipino wedding—filipinianas made by a world-renowned couturier and kundimans sung by an award-winning Filipino trio. The reception area somewhere in Intramuros was exquisitely beautiful. With all those extravagant flower arrangements, mouth-watering East Asian and Arabian cuisines, and tables decorated with white and gold linens. I may have looked happy, amazed, enchanted and fulfilled that day—with my newly wedded wife beside me.

But her looks will never fool me. I am not an idiot not to notice the regrets and bitterness she was feeling. I am not numbed not to feel her longing for someone. I know… I can see it in her eyes that even though I am already married to her, I will never be the man in her heart and mind. Someone makes her feel happy, amazed, enchanted and fulfilled every single day, and that will never be me.

“Do you love me?” I asked her the night we were about to make love.

We were both sitting on each side of the bed, our backs on each other. We were still in our wedding attires, mine loosened up a bit and hers all in place except for her veil and high heels lying on the carpeted floor. We had the air conditioner already on before the rain started to pour down. With windows already closed, we can still feel the unusual coldness inside, urging us to rest on each other’s warm body. I felt I was all alone in that hotel room. I was about to freeze to death until I heard her finally answer.

“I can…”

Suddenly, heat ran up to my face and I can already see myself crying. Then I heard her crying, too. I can… the words she had uttered told me many things. ‘I can’ means she does not love me at all. ‘I can’ means she still and will always love him. ‘I can’ means she will try to learn how to love me as the years will go by. ‘I can’ means she could pretend that she love me for the rest of our lives. ‘I can’ means she could walk away from me and start anew.

We first met when she had her fairy tale-like seventh birthday. I escorted her, the daughter of my parents’ business partners, and gave her a bicycle as a gift. Back then, we became the best of friends—no one and nothing could get us apart. She studied where I studied. In parks, I slept under the tree where she sleeps. We spent our summer breaks in each other’s province, alternately. We lied down on the green meadows under the roof of diamond-like stars, wishing for the best of our futures. We had the best of our teenage years until… prom night, senior high. Our parents may have overheard or seen us promising to each other that night.

“I love you and when I get back from the States, I will marry you Evelyn.” I swore to her, offering her a gold bracelet from our quarrying business uniquely made just for her. I was then an 18-year-old boy making empty promises.

I left for the States for college while she pursued her studies here in the Philippines. For four years, I longed for her and resorted myself in writing love letters. I never received any reply from her but it was nothing for me. All I want is for her to know, see, read and feel how madly in love I am to her, despite how many miles we are apart.

I graduated Business Management and earned a Master’s Degree in Economics from Yale University. I came back to Manila to take over our business empire and of course, marry the only woman I love. Only to find out that she was already with someone else.
I screamed in anger. I anguished for my loss. I was devastated. High atop our building in Makati, I watched the glamorous setting of the sun in the west. It was then when I realized that my life was setting, too. It was the end of me, I thought. All these years I wrote to her, she was with someone else, someone she met in the university she studied in.

“Nothing will ever change Evee, I still love you. And I hope that you could learn to love me, too.” I replied that freezing night of ours.

On the eyes of our parents and to all other known people of the high-class society, we are engaged because of my proposal to her during our Prom night. That made her relationship with that radical student, clandestine and obviously forbidden. During that time, people were told to be what they were supposed to be. No room for freedom and so was Evee’s love for him.

One day in 1980, we heard no more of Evee’s lover. We presumed either he is dead or held captive. He was now one of those who ‘disappeared’ as we called it. This made Evee so sad she has no one to cry on. She agreed to marry me after proposing to her again. She was finally mine, but not quite.

On the day before our wedding, a dark, wounded, bearded man crashed to my bachelor’s party, looking for Evee and I. It was he… he was alive. I called Evee over and she was running to us like hell. We bathed him in my house and let him ate. I cannot believe that he was there in front of me!

“I’m impotent Evelyn.” I told her while we were sitting on the sides of the bed. “Why don’t you ask him to give us a child and I promise to be the perfect father.”
Idiot. I asked one child to father on—he gave me six. I have blinded, muted, numbed, and fooled myself. Every time she gets home, fully exhausted from an arduous night, I numbed myself. I learned to sleep at night, alone in my bed with the help of a bottle of whisky. I was beside her every time she does pregnancy tests. I chaperoned her in every pre-natal check-up she went. I bought her every baby’s needs. Tell me, did I do the right thing? I numbed myself because of love. I numbed myself because of shame. I loved her so dearly that I did all those stupid things.

On the twenty-fifth anniversary of our marriage, I decided to file an annulment case. The priest who was in charge of looking over different cases of annulment asked me, why didn’t I file it sooner? Impotence is already a ground to nullify a marriage. I said, “I love her. I just want to spend the rest of my life with her, in spite of my impotence.”

I pleaded for the custody of her six children. I cannot imagine our kids being with their biological parents. I will never trust them. I loved these kids with all my heart. I gave them everything they needed, wanted, everything their parents did not give them.

Who was there every time Alessandra was having asthma attacks? I bought her medicines, brought her to the hospital when necessary… I wake up in the middle of the night because of her loud wheezing coughs and complaints that she cannot breathe. I was there to embrace her… to comfort her.

Who was there when Munich has a basketball game? Who was there to cheer him up when they lose? Who was there when his friends lifts him to the air for winning the game? Who was the one who coaches him privately? Who was the one who told him, “Son, you may not be good in your academics, but you’re good at sports. Not all 15-year-old boys out there make it to the top broadsheets with a full-page sports article about them.”

Who was there during Soleil’s play? I remember her on her first theater experience where she played the lead character. She was there backstage, very nervous and already thinking about backing out. I said, “No way are you gonna do that!” I hugged her so tight and told her that everything is going to be just fine. “Once you’re out there, the spotlight is only focused on you and you already can’t see anybody. Just think that you own the stage and no one is watching you. Do everything you practiced in front of a mirror inside your room. Imagine being alone.” “You’re not watching me?” she asked. “Of course I’m watching you… daddy’s here, alright? Just like how God watches us,” I answered. She was so cute and lovely out there. At first, she was just a very shy little girl, probably an introvert, but after that play, her self-esteem grew. Now, she is one of the most sought after theater actors in their school.

Who scolded Fidel when he had his first fistfight against some bullies in their class?

Who aided Avalanche on his yearly science projects?

Who was worried as hell when we knew that Katharina was lost during their Girl Scout jamboree? Were the two ever got worried? Had they thought calling us and keeping in touch of what was happening?

I was more than a father to them. I was their teacher, their brother, their father and mother. My wife and her lover never cared. They never loved their children the way I did. Some say that children may have the guts to spite their parents but never could the parents be able to spite their own children. On the contrary, Evelyn proved to me that a mother could be so indifferent, irresponsible and uncaring to her children.

Three years after I filed for annulment, there was this night I will never forget…
By 10 p.m., almost all our employees already made their way home. I was alone in the building, in my own office. It was so quiet and I did not turn the music on because I want to relish the tranquility of the room. At 3 a.m., while I was busy reviewing project proposals, I heard a woman crying very hard. Knowing that I was the only person left in the building, I got up and roamed around outside my office. There, I saw a woman in her corporate attire, sitting under the reception table. She was crying very hard, sweating heavily, her make-up were a mess and her high heels lying on the floor away from her. She was my secretary, Alyza.

Alyza has been with her boyfriend for ten years now. They met in college and fell madly in love with each other. But everything between them became a routine. In the morning, they would exchange text messages, saying how they love each other then remind them what they should do now like eat, take a shower or go to work. Then they would eat lunch together and at night, they would bid each other a good night’s sleep. Every single day goes the same. When they celebrate their monthsarry or anniversary, they would just eat together in a nice restaurant, exchange gifts and see a movie. For ten years, there was nothing spectacular, nothing special. At first, it was okay for them. But as time passed by, they got bored, tired and lost their appetite for each other.

It was their tenth anniversary that night when I saw her looking so devastated. I knew exactly what happened even though she did not tell me. They finally broke up.
“Honestly Alyza, it was a good thing that you two finally broke up. You do not deserve him. You are a witty, gorgeous, passionate, thoughtful woman. You did your best to make your relationship work, to let the fire burning despite the cold times. I see you everyday, thinking new, wild, outrageous things out of love just to keep him beside you. You know, he was lucky to have you. You are the girl every man dreams of. And you’re lucky to get out of that lopsided relationship.”

I said these words to her as if I was talking to myself. She was lucky to have me, but I was luckier to leave her. Why would I waste my life with such woman? She was not meant for me… I worth more than her…

In an instant, I rose to my feet and returned to my office. I clutched my coat, cell phone, wallet, and a long brown envelope. I left the office and advised Alyza to go home. I need to walk, a time to think, a time to see something… see me… see my worth.
I started walking along Ayala Avenue. Then, I swerved left and walked on the sidewalks of the Ayala Triangle Park. A voice inside me said things that helped me realize how lucky I am with my children, free from Evelyn, and her lover. There in that night of peaceful solitude, I realized how blessed I am and how strong I will be without Evelyn by my side.

I walked further until I reached the Pasig river. In the east, I saw the sun rising up. I closed my eyes, savored the warm rays of the sun and the cool breeze of the wind. Slowly, I opened the envelope and read the papers inside, saying that our marriage is finally nullified and I have the full custody of our children. Finally, I knew my worth.

I raised my right palm on the level of my chest, as if I was begging. Then I meditated on my burdens, frustrations, and feelings of hatred. I flashed in my mind scenes in my life where I was hurt, sad and desperate. All those memories of Evee and her lover, and all those emotions accompanying them, I simply gathered and put on my palm. I somewhat felt the current from my heart to my hand, and felt the weight of it. I opened my eyes, and blew those away.

Sometimes, we meet someone whom we think is best for us. We get to know wonderful persons, fall in love with them, and marry them. But what if… out there, someone’s better than them? We often think that we had the best, but actually, we had not. Best persons in the world are not the ones who will be with us forever. They are the persons who will be a part of our lives for a brief moment, letting us realize our worth and make us a better person.

I’ve never felt so light and happy after blowing all those burdens, memories, and emotions away. I’ve never felt so overwhelmed after gazing the rising of the sun.