coffee party

it used to be a funeral... now it's more commonly called a "celebration of life". and rightly so for it becomes an impromptu reunion of sorts where you get to talk and laugh with relatives you haven't seen for ages. it is where you update each other on the what-have's and who-have's for the past years.

my grandma passed away three days ago. it's sad but i believe she's lived her life to the fullest though i will never know if there are things she wished she did. but her children are all grown and married, and half of her grandchildren have their own families as well. looking at her pictures on the wall at the parlor where she lay, my mind raced back to the past where she was younger and strong... my mom and her siblings even younger... my cousins and i mere children running around, quite unfamiliar with this reality called life.

grandma used to host these parties and celebrations. she decides on the what, the where and the how. now it's her children who does. us kids took the place of my mom's generation and our children now holds the seat we once occupied. i looked at my granddaughter ayel, still unmindful of the goings-on around her. she is now the child her father used to be. i am glad ayel will know she was there when we said goodbye to her great-great grandmother.

i wonder how grandma felt when i was born--i was her first grandchild. she took care of me when i was a child so my mom could go back to school. i used to watch her as she sat on her sewing machine, making dresses for us. my dolls used to have dresses of the same cloth and cut as mine. i watched her as she worked in the kitchen. i think it was from her where i learned how to cook.

but what i remember most about her were the afternoons where she sat on the piano and played those waltzes. i would sit beside her and watch her fingers as they roamed about the ivory keys. at five, she taught me how to play. i haven't played in more than twenty years. my fingers are rusty and i have forgotten some of my pieces but i have gotten back to it. i will definitely teach ayel to play the piano when she's older. that way she will have something of me that used to be my grandma's...

the rooster's rabbit

once upon a time several years ago, a rooster got himself a rabbit to harvest his wheat for him. the wheat field is located several miles away from the barn where the rooster lives and for that chore promised the rabbit a carrot everyday.

the rabbit lived in an underground hole a few kilometers away from the wheat field. each day he would walk to the field, harvest the wheat and walked several miles to get to the rooster's barn. as promised, the rooster gave him a carrot at the end of the day.

this went on for several months till one day, the rooster told the rabbit to milk his cow which was grazing just a few feet away from the field. it was an added chore but since it was on his way, the rabbit obliged. so every morning from then on, he would harvest the wheat and milk the cow then walked several miles to get to the rooster's barn. as promised, the rooster gave him a carrot at the end of the day.

this went on for several months till one day, the rooster told the rabbit to get honey from his honey farm which was a few feet away from the field and a few yards away from where the cow was grazing. it was an added chore but since it was on his way, the rabbit obliged. so every morning from then on, he would harvest the wheat, milk the cow and gather honey then walked several miles to get to the rooster's barn. as promised, the rooster gave him a carrot at the end of the day.

this went on for several months till one day, the rooster told the rabbit to harvest the corns from his corn farm which was a few feet away from the field, a few yards away from where the cow was grazing and just beside the honey farm. it was an added chore but since it was on his way, the rabbit obliged. so every morning from then on, he would harvest the wheat, milk the cow, gather honey and harvested the corn then walked several miles to get to the rooster's barn. as promised, the rooster gave him a carrot at the end of the day.

days, weeks, months and years passed. from harvesting wheat to milking the cow to gathering honey to harvesting corns, the rabbit now plows the fields, plants and waters the wheat and corn. he also moves the cow to greener grass and makes a new beehive each time a new queen bee was born. he also cleans the barn and feed the rooster's pigs, goats, ducks, dogs and horses. he also mows the rooster's lawn. as promised, the rooster gave the rabbit a carrot before he goes home.

the rabbit did his chores without question, though he felt more and more exhausted at the end of the day. he consoled himself with the knowledge that he now knew how to plant wheat and corn, milk a cow, gather honey and make beehives. besides, the farm animals were now his friends.

this went on for several more months till one day, the rooster told the rabbit to harvest the peas from his pea field which was a few feet away from the corn and wheat field, a few yards away from where the cow was grazing and just beside the honey farm. and, the peas were to be removed from the pea pods and laid out to dry under the sun.

the next morning, the rabbit went to the barn with no wheat or corn, no milk or honey. he went to the rooster and asked him to look for another rabbit to do the chores--for some time now, he had been contemplating about planting his own carrots and has decided to do just that. the rabbit then said goodbye to all his farm friends and walked on home.

who's for lunch?

break periods at the office is almost always fun, except for instances when we have to rush something and do lunch by shifting. but most of the time, it's a jamboree from start to finish.

our conversations would range from political candidates to political ad campaigns to tv advertisements to showbiz personalities to office anecdotes. we never run out of topics for during pensive moments, we talk about ourselves instead. at times it feels as if break times were meant for laughs and eating just an alibi.

try one of our sessions:

"has anyone else seen Isko's half-naked election poster? i took his pic a few days later during their rally."

"that's baaaaaddd...! you have a crush on him. or stalking him."

"...am not!"

"what about the ad of Cesar with his daughter singing si Montano, sa senado..."

"Ruffa's daughter Loren saying 'nyaaah...nyaahhh... nyaaah...' in a Nido ad. they spoofed that in Bubble Gang."

"Ruffa, i see her a lot on tv ads."

"and Gretchen."

"Claudine is looking more like Marjorie these days..."

"saw Loren's "pensive' expression in her tv ad?"

"what was that all about, anyway?"

"Manny is dancing and carrying kangkong!"

"and a sack of rice, too."

"who's voting for Richard?"

"Anjo is running again."

"i like Fred Lim. i'm voting for him."

"Loren appeared in Markova."

"she was nominated for best actress."

"whaa..?!?"

"Dolphy served her minatamis na kamote in their interview scene."

"the movie of Jeffrey 'Radyo' is okay. nice cinematography."

"Ruffa Mae ate hammed human leg at the last scene."

"Kris was nominated for best actress in a massacre movie... her shouting scenes were flashed onscreen."

"Gina for Shake Rattle and Roll. she was trying to shoo the manananggal away with a stick, hahaha!"

"who was that child who played as Gina's son?"

"that was IC..."

"i liked Ai-Ai's performance."

"the Best Shake Rattle and roll was the first."

"yeah, with the manananggal and the refrigerator that eats people."

"have you seen George's movies? kissing scenes are so grose! he could eat you alive."

"why do movie villains always look dirty and bearded?"

"my husband looks like a movie goon--Dante Varona."

"the one who jumped off the San Juanico Bridge.."

"Dante Varona and Chanda Romero..."

"ha... ha... ha..."

"why do villains always say modus operandi or epektus or shipment? everyone knows they're doing something illegal already, right?"

"tagalog films always have a dance scene..."

"yeah, at the beach."

"Lito shoots two villains with one bullet. he divided it in half with a balisong."

"the movie was Julio Valiente."

"he's running for mayor in Makati."

"horror movies always has a haunted house. either they went there for a vacation or somebody inherited it."

"action movies has the hero shooting while flying sideways..."

"before killing each other, they talk and make confessions, too."

"with a wall between them..."

"always have a beerhouse scene. and a sexy dancer."

"Victor Wood is running for senator."

"weren't he linked with Madam Auring before?"

"now it's Archie..."

"saw an interview of Madam Auring saying she was pregnant. she craved for green mangoes, hahaha!"

"a later interview had her saying she had a miscarriage. how old is she, really?"

"probably 70."

"saw a video footage of Madam's visit to Bataan i think. to archie's family. she looked older than Archie's mom. she could even be Archie's mom's mom."

"she said she was 39. her eldest son is 35, that means she became a mom at 4."

"let's watch Shrek 3 next Friday!"

"is it showing? i haven't even seen Spiderman 3."

"is it showing in Glorietta?"

"yeah. let's all go see it."

"i can probably use my electronic gift certificate at last. let's eat at Max's..."

ayeliti

that's what we call her sometimes, a pet name for her nickname Ayel. it was my husband P who started calling her that.

she came into our lives unexpectedly. i hadn't counted on being a grandmom last year, but there she was--a tiny person oblivious of her surroundings. when my son R timidly handed her over to me three days after she was born, i felt a lump in my throat. "my son's daughter..." i thought to myself, "that makes me a grandmom".

having known how and what it was like to be a mother in my teens, i was already going through several levels of anxiety. R was not ready for fatherhood... not yet. technically, he was still my "baby", just learning to stand by himself. my mom, including some friends and relatives advised me to stand back and let him face up to his responsibility and obligations. it was his (their) decision to begin with.

i did... i mean, i tried to steer clear to let him be the father he wanted to be. i was just a few yards away, anyway. during the first weeks, he would knock on our door to ask if it was normal for babies to cry continuously even after they have been fed... or what could have caused the tiny blisters on her face... or how soon can she be given a warm bath...

i am always awakened by little Ayel's cries in the wee hours of the morning, accompanied by R's voice imploring her to go to sleep already. at times like this, i would hastily put on a robe to see how they are doing, and then take little Ayel and rock her softly till she falls asleep. my heart goes out to my son R who badly needs to get some sleep himself. he could hardly keep his eyes open.

Ayel is now seven months old--a very energetic child who can't seem to stay in one place. she may be my son's daughter--"his" obligation and responsibility, but what the heck. she is our little girl and she has all our love and attention. even my mom who reminds me against smothering Ayel smothers her herself. and i've made it my hobby to take her picture almost everyday--to capture every possible moment of her growing up.

Ayel has given us more than she can ever comprehend for she has become the excitement in our normally routinary existence and gave each one of us a new role to play in her life. she has given us fun and laughter with her smiles and antics. our formerly individual schedules have been synchronized so that there will always be one of us looking after her. and though we were not aware of it before, this little girl with her reddish-brown hair and bedimpled little cheeks is the cherry that completed our pie.

certified baby girl

last sunday, my husband P and i were ecstatic. we had little ayel's ears pierced. she is now a certified baby girl and we think she looks prettier with earrings.

it wasn't the first time for me for i had my son's ears pierced as well when he was about 11. what can i do? i said no but his dad said "let's let him, for experience". that, and the fact that he had earring holes, too. it makes me laugh everytime i think about it. my son R was in grade four at LCC. the nuns rounded up all male students with pierced ears and demanded that their parent/s meet with the guidance councilor. i told R's dad that he should be the one to attend for obvious reasons. he did. when asked if we allowed R to have his ears pierced, his dad smiled meekly and scratched his head. when they saw the father had ear piercing too, it was him who got reprimanded by the nuns.

R's earring holes are still open but he does not wear earrings anymore. his baby girl does.

love is not a feeling

a friend of mine asked me how i was able to do it.

"do what?" i asked.

"moved on," she said.

move on... there's that word again. "i didn't. i stayed behind and lived on," i answered.

my friend D had her heart broken. it had been three years but she still cries. desperately wanting to be in love, she went in and out of relationships, each one failing miserably. i empathize with her. i do not know exactly how she feels but i know the feeling. she said she felt betrayed and played for a fool. yes, that's one.

ugly and unwanted. two.

worthless. not necessarily but... okay, three.

she found it hard to concentrate not just with work but with living. grave... but true at times. four.

she turns to food. others yes. it's the opposite with me. five.

self-pity and low self-esteem. six. seven.

sceptical and found it hard trusting, men especially. eight.

she went on and on and on...

it's amazing how one can feel several emotions all at the same time. actually it's not "feeling" but rather "a going through".

"love is not a feeling", i told her, "it is an activity". i read it in a book by dr. m. scott peck. it makes sense--love is actually an action word.

"but why do i feel it in my heart" she asked.

""probably the intensity of the emotion, makes the heart beat faster," i said.

what do you do when you are in love? you think about him, you call or text him, you wait for him to call or text you, you cook for him, you do a lot of other things for him (or her) ... all action words. hugs & kisses, too.

it's quite easy to guess when the relationship is about to go pfffttt. he does not call you, he does not return your calls, he breaks your dates, he does not fetch you, he forgets special ocassions, he dates another girl...

but love is not only a verb. it is also a decision, which by the way is also an action word.

funny farm

i live in a funny farm and there's nowhere else i would rather be.

for starters, my mom is dr. doolittle incarnate--she talks to her dogs and our house cat... sometimes she sings to them. other times, well...better if you could hear her. i often tell her that she might get the surprise of her life when her dogs answer her one of these days.

"cedric, (or chester or curtis or amy or vanna) didn't i tell you that one bark is enough?!? more than one bark is too much!" i'm trying to imagine how a dog would control its bark to just one "whoaarrfff!". i couldn't, but it makes me laugh.my husband on the other hand talks to his plants. and his flowerhorns, too. tells them to behave while he's gone. ever seen a cactus in her bestest manners? or a flowerhorn sitting in the corner of an aquarium, behaving?

weekends are always a treat. my mom and husband debates on anything under the sun... or roof, for that matter. but don't get me wrong--they also laugh most of the time. my mom is a mom through and through for she always has a reminder for everything we ever do, or a suggestion for a better way of doing what we do. the ratio of words output would be 20:1, with mom on the lead and always on the advantage.

my son is the soft-spoken one. a soft-spoken great escape artist. he'll be there one minute and gone the next. there were even times he disappeared in the middle of my sentence and would return home in the middle of the night or early morning. when asked where he had been to, his usual response would either be "just a few blocks from here..." or "practicing with the band". he's a sweet kid, though. never forgets my birthday, greets me every mother's day, valentines, christmas... i think he got that from his dad. he's my big taz. you should see his room.

every afternoon i come home to a living room with scattered feeding bottles, toys, baby powder, bottles of lotion, baby oil, combs, pillows, hair clip... amateur handiwork of little ayel, our baby taz. everything she grabs, she puts in her mouth. and she loves paper--she would rip wallpapers off the wall, shred them to bits and leave a trail for us to follow. i would often find her under the sofa, lost in her thoughts. makes me wonder what she's planning to do next.

as for me, i believe i am the anointed arbiter of our herd, content just to stand in the middle. sometimes at the back. at times from the side. come to think of it, i stand in all directions.

there is nothing more i want to do at the end of the day than to rush home to these sometimes crazed and funny people who keeps my world alive. just the sound of their voices assure me that everything is just as it should be.

what's for dinner

my son R is now in his mid-20s and already a father to 7-month old ayel. but i guess no matter how old one may be, we'll always be our parent's little boys/girls.

while cooking dinner one day, i was surprised when he said, "mi, what happened to daddy? it was like he became a different person?"

"define different," i answered.

"like he was not daddy anymore. i wanted to trust him like before but i had this feeling like daddy got lost somewhere inside that man's body. he looks like daddy, talks like him but it isn't him. do you understand what i mean?" he said.

i simply nodded. i knew exactly what he meant.

"what do you think happened to him...?" he continued.

i could not find the right words to answer him. pointing at our house cat instead, i said "look at him... sitting there, relaxed and asleep. have you noticed how he runs around all day long, goes out for hunts during the night? but where do you find him when he's not doing his stuff?"

"sleeping on the steps or on top of the washing machine.." R answered softly.

"what do you think will happen to our house cat if we leave him out on the streets?" i asked him.

"he'll probably become wild or fierce and fight with other cats. or he will probably keep on looking for us or for a new family to live with," he said. "so...?"

"losing one's family can change a cat..." i said, "but it doesn't mean it has forgotten us."

when he was about 4 or 5 years old, R was bitten by a puppy. the pup didn't make it so his dad and i took him to the doctor and had him vaccinated with anti-tetanus. on top of it, the doctor recommended a series of anti-rabies vaccines--18 of them (if i remember right) to be administered daily at the san lazaro hospital. R's dad took him there diligently for 18 consecutive days for the scheduled shots.

then when he was around seven, he was hospitalized for more than a week due to high fever and his dad slept in the hospital with him from the day he was confined to his discharge. for my part, i would visit R in the evening after coming home from work and bring clothes, food or whatever supplies are needed.

"so you see," i told my son, "your dad made time for you while i went to work when you should have been more important." truth was, i wanted to be there with them but there were hospital bills to pay. but still...

R and his dad shared a lot of good times together, and i often tell him to always keep those in mind. what happened between us was not his fault, he was in fact, an ally to both camps engaged in a crossfire.

i know there are times R wished his dad was still around... that he misses him sometimes. i am not sure about so many things but in my heart, i want to believe that his dad never stopped loving him. that it's not about being a "bad" or "uncaring" parent for i honestly believe there is no such thing. that sometimes, it's our own unhappiness that scares and inhibits us from giving love back to others.

seeing my once little boy carrying his baby girl in his arms accompanies my sigh with a sob. and silently, i pray that this little girl will always have her daddy around--to talk with, to play with, or simply hang around with. they might even have little conversations like these while cooking dinner.

the clutter that is my bag

rummaging through the cabinet for an alternate bag last night, i suddenly realized that all my bags were big. no, not big... huge. there they were in an assortment of colors, huge bags that can accommodate a week's supply of clothes.

now why do i carry a bag that could dislocate my shoulders?

i emptied its contents, staring in amusement. i had a purse for id cards, credit cards, membership cards, insurance cards, sss & bir cards, discount cards... another purse for paper bills, a coin purse, several pens, pencils, note pad, keys, handkerchief, folding fan, purchase receipts, several letter envelopes with papers inside, a comb, a bottle of cologne, a digital camera, a small plastic box with rosary, a cutter, a small golden buddha, toothpaste and toothbrush, a cellphone, a snake... (kidding).

i have small bags (all of which were gifts) but never get to use them for the only thing i can put in it is my purse. and i can't leave home with just my purse. my husband jokingly remarked that it just might be the bag causing my back and shoulder pains. i go to work with that bulky thing and a heavy portfolio with office stuff to complement it. i just love giving myself a hard time.

on second thought, if i can find myself a bigger bag i could probably bring my granddaughter to the office with me everyday.

fully-clothed Isko M.

well what do you know... just saw isko moreno with danny lacuna, campaigning in sta. ana. he was fully-clothed this time, as opposed to the poster i saw a few days ago. i intended to ask him several questions, but ended up taking his picture instead. anyway, my unanswered questions were:

1. was that good-looking guy in briefs really you?
2. was that picture edited or there really was a bulge in front?
3. were you the one who picked that picture for the ad?
4. did you have those posters made? and posted?
5. do you think you'll win as vice mayor?
6. would you like to carry my granddaughter and have your picture taken with her?
7. do you have any plans of making movies again? (if you don't win)

their convoy was composed of about 50 or more (cars, vans, jeeps, etc..) i think. they were throwing candies and guess what... shampoos & conditioners?!?. makes sense actually. the candy will keep your saliva flowing after staying in the sun too long (from watching their parade) and then you can take a bath after.

after seeing that poster and him in person, i've come to a conclusion that he does look better with clothes on.

into the blur 3 : a masquerade ball

at first, everything looked as if it was going to be great between them. they used to talk a lot about so many things... took walks by the bay at night... danced to slow music... laughed and held hands most of the time... she felt secure--at least for a while.

he said he would give up drinking--she didn't ask him to. but he did, for a while. then his friends started coming over on occasions at first, till she noticed that they come over after every payday. hers, of course. then it became an every-weekend thing. she didn't mind... at first. but gradually, she started hating it whenever he became drunk for he would turn into some kind of fool devoid of all reason. he would taunt her as if testing how far she could go. he would open up issues, mostly about her family. how he resented it each time she gave them something, anything. she had already seen his violent streak, which presents itself quite very often.

while he kept things from her, he made it his business to know everything. who texted... who called... where she went... he was always lingering about, watching them from the side of his eyes each time her mother came to visit. he would make her recount each and every little detail of what they have talked about. he would demand that she tell him every single thing she intend to do before doing them. she felt stupid--handing her pay over to him when it should be the other way around. she didn't want them to fight about money so she let him handle whatever she earned. to shut him up.

all she wanted was for him to be happy and content. she thought sharing with him everything she had would be enough. but the more she gave in, the more unreasonable his demands became. he was trying to change her into something she will never become. the relationship she thought they had is turning into a tug-of-war. he had to be right, always. if he didn't have his way, he'll go berserk and kick things around. he also had this habit of waking her up in the middle of her sleep just to ask about trivial things that can wait till morning. or he would purposely turn on the lights and slam doors to rouse her.

she felt herself slowly drifting away from him. everything has to be about him, how he feels, what he wants... she talked less, smiled even lesser, kept to herself more and more each day. it was as if he was two different persons. he would be nice one day, crazy and mean the other--like one wearing a mask. problem was, she couldn't figure out which one is the face and which is the mask.

lying in bed with her back against him, her eyes were closed but she was secretly awake. her thoughts no longer in random--she was thinking of a way to get herself out of the ball.

hearts don't get broken, promises are

browsing through my posts, i noticed that most of what i had written were sad. or somewhat depressing. i guess it's because i had been into a lot of them. i've heard so many times that the zaniest and funniest people are those who have gone through fire and i'm inclined to believe that. pain makes us stronger and having been through worst, there is only one way to look at life from then on : with a smile, or if you can, with laughter. now i look at small and petty things as they are--small and petty.

i knew i've gotten over my cross when i learned to make fun of myself, forgive and accept defeat. i can even look back without regret and bitterness. it actually makes me chuckle everytime i do. besides, i don't want to die a cynical grumpy old woman, wallowing in pain and remorse. what i want to be is me--crazy, funny and fun. if possible, i would like to die laughing.

the usual advice i got from friends then was to "move on". move on...where to? i had no plan B (i.e., in case of dissolution of marriage, press button to deflate; or get hidden plane ticket, withdraw all cash and take europe vacation, have a few drinks, shop till you drop...). so i didn't. i stayed put and planted my feet firmly on the ground so i can stand up. so here i am, standing--with a silly grin on my face like a child come out of mischief (and a boxful of ideas & stories to write about).

i am working on being a better mom, a more loving wife, and a super great grandmom. i am making an effort to spend more chat time with my own mom and share more laughs with her. that is what pain has done to me. time may heal all wounds, but it is laughter that will remind you that there are more things in life other than a broken heart.

vote : wisely

walking towards the tryke station this morning, i saw an election poster of isko moreno saying "vote isko moreno for vice mayor". he was slouching on a bench, in his underwear. i am not sure if it was edited, but the poster i saw even showed something bulging in front. that similar photo there on the right which i found on the net.

surprisingly, i didn't have any reaction at all. not a smile, not a frown, not a crease on my brow. now, is no reaction a good thing or a bad thing? i often hear the showbiz cliche "good or bad publicity is still publicity". ummm... no comment on that one.

we have been awakened to our senses by rolling drums and campaign music these past weeks. i am often taken aback by candidates who would suddenly shake my hand as i walk home. "my name is blah-blah-blah..." he would say, "for congressman. i am the protector of women's rights and violence against women." uuhh, okay...

remember how adults scare children (silly thing) by telling them they will be abducted by the "mumu" or the "bumbay"? whenever our baby ayel gets too fussy and won't sleep, we tell her "hala, kukunin ka ng kandidato..." to this, she would smile and giggle--and fuss some more. good thing she doesn't really understand a word we're saying.

back to isko. i'm sure he didn't single that photo out for his ad campaign. somebody must've found him real cute in that pic and decided to have posters made for him--free of charge. they even posted it on the walls for him. from the goodness of their hearts.

what can i say? politics is politics is politics... whew!

p.s. that's whom i'm going to vote for--wisely. (by the way, is wisely with a MR. or a MS.?)

into the blur 2

she went about methodically, preparing the appetizers and the dinner after. but inside was this gnawing feeling that makes her want to cry. he kept on talking but she wasn't listening for her mind was miles away. suddenly there were loud voices. "the we has arrived..." she told herself.

she went to them for the customary welcome. he was always extra pleasant to her when his friends are around. after setting the table, she mumbled something about tidying up and excused herself.

she could hear their laughter as she moved about, putting the house back in order. taking a shower after, she laid on the bed her mind in random thoughts. and without meaning to, she feel asleep.

she didn't know what woke her up--it was 2 in the morning. slowly she got up and saw him emptying the last glass of alcohol. without saying a word, she started picking up glasses here and there and putting them on the sink.

"i'm hungry. let's eat." he said.

"you go ahead," she answered, "i'm not hungry at all."

"i want to eat. come on, let's," he insisted.

"i don't feel like eating. i just want to clean this mess up and go to bed," she said.

"what is your problem?" he snapped.

"look, it's 2 in the morning. i'm tired and i want to go to sleep. can't you just go ahead and eat and let me finish here?" she asked.

"you're taking me for granted," he replied.

"i'm taking you for granted?" she said looking at him, "i came home, prepared everything for you and waited till you finished so i can clean your mess up and now i'm taking you for granted?"

"you always take the side of your family," he suddenly said.

"and what has that got to do with this?" she answered.

"it's true, isn't it? you're always patient with them." he said.

"they do not hurt me the way you do," she said softly, "and i do not take sides. you treat them indifferently. you're mean and rude to them."

he started banging and throwing things around, cursing loudly.

"will you stop that!" she said, "that's what i hate about your drinking. you become a jerk!"

"i'm not drunk. am i drunk? i'm not drunk," he said.

she wanted to hit him and slap him back to his senses. "you're really a jerk. i'm getting sick and tired of this," she said.

"get sick all you want, i don't care!" he shouted, "you are not leaving me."

"stop shouting. i am losing my patience. i'll get you arrested," she said.

"think you can still call the police when you're dead?" he taunted.

"you don't have the guts. not the slightest, " she said between her teeth, "for if you do, you'll be homeless and penniless. how can a leech live without blood to suck from others?"

"don't dare me," he yelled.

"come on, do it!" she dared.

there was a long silence between them. "come on, let's go to bed," he said softly.

"go to hell..." she snapped and slammed the door to his face.