Our Story

Eric & Ria | Episode 2

Ria

I RELISH THE SOFTNESS of satin sheets on my skin as I hum the 'kay sara sara' tune to lull myself to sleep. The blank space on the hotel white ceiling is calling out to me and my urge to paint on it increases. But if I am allowed to vandalize the 5 star hotel,  what should I paint on it?

I remember my therapist advising me to take in deep breaths and introspect what emotion or "feelings" my heart is currently stating whenever I'm stuck in front of a blank canvass.  Painting is the best way for me to express whatever is bottled up there and my therapist gladly supports it.

I close my eyes to heighten my concentration to figure out the "feels". And there it is--the envisioning of a scene and a splash of colors: a sky painted in red, a back of a woman wearing a black coat and a hat. She is holding a gun and pointing it at the red sky. The red sky bleeds with a deeper shade as if it was shot many times.

I want to put more shades of red; the darker, the better. I need to. At the moment, I know exactly what emotion I am currently feeling and it is rage.

"Now think of the reason why are you feeling a certain way. Is there anything that happened recently to cause such strong emotions?" My therapist advises me to do this simple exercise every time I have a hard time distinguishing what I'm feeling.

Him. Of course. The man who almost took everything away from me. The man who shattered my beliefs of true love. The man who woke me up to reality.

I roll my eyes at the thought of Harold. It's been so long since I last saw him and I admit that seeing him with Gretta threw me off balance. I never thought that such occurrence would happen in this lifetime. I am hopeful of never seeing both of them again, much more together.

I turn over to my side and sigh. They look happy. I shake my head, dismissing the thought as I am the last person to usually figure out what people "feel" and the last time I thought I know, ended with a slap on my face of reality.

It was a long arduous afternoon when I excitedly dressed up to see Prince Harold. We've been going out for 4 months and I finally decided that I would give my first kiss to him and perhaps go all the way. Sure, we've been arranged but I loved the guy and wanted all my firsts to be with him. Smiling was natural for me to do then and I did--all the way to the hotel he was currently staying in.

I had dressed up in a floral dress, braided my hair and even put on some make-up. Fidgeting as I went in the private elevator, I chuckled as I remembered what he told me the last time we hung out.

"I can wait, it doesn't matter to me. I'm a patient guy and I will wait for as long as you like," he said sincerely, interlocking his fingers with mine, "We have the rest of our lives to spend together and I promise not to do anything to you, no matter how hard it is, until I have your consent. We'll wait until you're ready. I love you."

"I love you too."

Blushing, I got off the elevator and fixed up my dress. I couldn't wait to see the surprised look on his face as I rang the buzzer.

"Who is it?" He asked through the intercom and I frowned at his annoyed tone.

"Room service," I quickly replied without thinking.

The door opened and I hesitantly set foot inside his hotel room. The suite was big and had many interesting things to look at but all I noticed were the clothes laying on the floor--particularly a woman's.

"Just leave it on the table," he called out from the other end.

I didn't answer as my heart pounded loudly. It suddenly felt like I was intruding.