The on going telenovela “The Legal Wife” has opened a can of worms. The over dinner exchange between Cecille and Carmella regarding the Monica-Adrian matrimonial discord brought about by the unwanted presence of another woman causes me severe discomfort. My insides feel as if they are in a knot. Dinner, once festive occasions, has become my silent agony whenever this TV drama is mentioned. Guilt.
She is the quiet one, always wanting to remain unnoticed. She is not into attracting attention onto herself even when her breeding is so upper class. She chooses to blend rather than standout.
When I first met her several years ago inside La Vista Village along Katipunan, she was already looking exemplary fit, well proportioned, light on her toes, the ballerina, the perfect athlete. She remains that way to this very day. Every man's dream.
Graceful that she is, she can also be one of the boys if the occasion calls it. She does not mind going down and get real dirty with me if it means achieving a goal or having fun. Not so many ladies can be as indulgent.
She is the uber supportive. With her, I am not afraid to keep trying. There were times when I fail miserably, like on most first attempts to conquer challenges tossed our way, but she endures and stays with me until I achieve full victory, until I better myself. She is loyalty defined, the perfect companion.
But what endears her to me most is her sense of self. She is not interested in keeping up with other ladies because she knows what truly defines her. She was created unique yet never high maintenance, patiently waiting for what I can afford to give. The perfect.
Very close friends know how much this lady means to me. They know the excitement and the joy she constantly brings. They know how she made me braver than brave. They know how she helped me breathe when illness in the family was beginning to rid me of hope. They know our intimacy. They understand and are sympathetic, even condoning.
But my chest is on the verge of bursting and my heart threatens to break into pieces. This secret cannot keep on fearing the light of day. Cecille, the woman I promised to spend the rest of my life with, the one I married and mother to my beautiful Carmella, has to know.
Last Saturday, while we were sitting at the table for after dinner coffee, I summoned all the courage and told her what, for years, I kept hidden. Full of remorse, my eyes dare not meet hers, I told her I have another lady. Trying to remain calm but her voice starting to crack, asked what her name is.
And so I told her.
She begun shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes welling up and her face turning red. She nearly fell from her chair.
Laughing.
I hate you, Channel 2!
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| The "Other Lady", Efcie, and me on a date somewhere in Benguet |
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