Nine Days to Lockdown
By Yeyet Soriano
Genre: Romance
Archetype Cards: A repentant Traitor and the Tomboy
Keywords: blindness, amulet, disease, diamond, cries in the night, and betrothal.
Daniel
It’s interesting to see how people react to someone who they think is blind. I’m not sure why they assume I am blind to begin with, but I don’t correct them. And to be honest, since I love watching them when they think I cannot see them, I continue the charade.
When people believe they’re not seen, they are themselves. They don’t wear the masks they usually put on for the outside world. You see them raw, natural, and very, very open.
It all starts when I wake up after a late night of partying. My eyes are swollen and I am dehydrated and weak. The problem though is that there is no food or even drinks (not even potable water) in my condominium unit, so I need to run out to get something. It is very sunny, so I wear my dark one-way shades. So, there I am, weaving since the alcohol is still in my system, still in my party clothes, in my shades, so I may appear visually impaired. I enter a deli and order a large sub sandwich and a liter of water. I walk to a nearby park, sit on a bench, and proceed to eat.
When I finish, I am just still too full to move, so I just sit. And watch.
People assume I am blind, by virtue of my stance and my shades, and I don’t help matters by not moving my head a lot to follow any movement—because I have a splitting headache.
it is that day when I first see her. She says her name is Charlie.
Charlie is obviously distressed, but she is trying to keep herself calm. Physically, she is not striking in any way. She walks like she is used to being a tomboy as a kid, her head bent, and her body hunched, like she wants to hide herself from the world. Her hair, unruly, frames her pale face unflatteringly, looking like a mop. She also wears dark-rimmed glasses that magnify her eyes, and the shape does not flatter her face any. Her clothes are also baggy—an oversized long-sleeved shirt and pants that are definitely at least two sizes too large. She wears dirty sneakers. I don’t even know why I am sure she is a girl because she is trying very hard to look like a boy. But there is something in her stance and her face. I know she is a girl.
She stares at me as she walks by and I try to look obviously blind. When it dawns on her that I am blind, I see her release her breath. She sits on the other end of my bench and she takes deep breaths as if to calm herself.
I adjust my position so I can observe her while still not seeming to look directly at her. And that is when I noticed other things about her—how her hands were small, but delicate and pretty, with clear fair skin, and graceful fingers. Same with her neck, looking elegant and out of place with the clothes and the hairstyle.
“Hello,” I say, surprised that I had spoken, as I had not yet decided whether to talk to her or not.
I see her almost jump up in surprise.
“Is anyone there?” I say, trying to look confused.
She seems to remember that I am blind, so she relaxes. She faces me, removes her glasses, and stares at me from head to foot, and I feel a thrill to discover that she has beautiful eyes. In fact, it is surprising to realize that her face is quite lovely. For one second, our eyes seem to lock and I almost lose my composure, but that second is over, and she puts back her glasses and sits back on the bench in a slouch.
“Hi, yes, there’s someone here,” she says softly, almost imperceptibly, and her voice is melodic. She realizes she used her real voice so she clears her throat and starts talking in a lower, gruffer voice.
“I’m sorry, if you want me to move, just let me know.”
I smile and say, “No, don’t move. I was just wondering, because there was a shift in the air around me, so I just had to check.”
Okay, I am taking this blindness charade a little too far, but I know if I come clean now, she will slink away from me.
Lucy
I can’t believe my parents are going to marry me off to someone I haven’t even met, just so they can secure their own financial future!
How absolutely medieval.
How desperate.
And yet, it’s true.
But wait, I make it sound so bad because they’re sweet parents, who have doted on me and have given me everything I needed and wanted in life. But their backs are against the wall this time, and it doesn’t help that my mother has a heart condition that can be treated with expensive surgery.
Okay, the truth of the matter is this. My father has a debt he needs to pay. Sweet though he is, he has a bit of a gambling problem. A bit? No, a big problem. He bet our house during a particularly intense poker game and he lost. So, unless he comes up with the money he owed, we’d lose our house.
Our house—where all our memories are stored. We can’t lose our house!
So, let’s see, Mom needs an expensive operation—check. Dad needs money to pay off a gambling debt or we lose the house—check.
Enter an opportunistic friend of my dad, who needs to produce a bride for his good-for-nothing son so he can inherit the estate left by his late grandmother (the opportunistic friend’s mother-in-law).
When did my life become such a telenovela?
In a nutshell, I need only to marry this opportunistic friend’s son, stay with him for at least six months, and then he’ll get his multimillion inheritance, my mom can have her surgery, my dad can pay off his debts, we keep the house, and I will earn a good amount of money—as part of our separation settlement—to last me and my parents a lifetime.
I am stuck in a situation which I would like to escape. But I can’t, can I? Escaping means leaving my parents to deal with the consequences of their choices—my father’s choice to bet our house in a hand of poker and my mother’s choice to ignore all of her doctors’ warnings, now requiring her to have a major heart surgery.
We need money, bad, or we will lose our house and Mom’s next attack most probably will kill her. And the solution has been to sell me to the highest bidder. Well, there was only one offer, and it was just too good to pass up.
I am a good daughter so there should be no question, right, as to what I need to do? But I am idealistic and a romantic. I still want to fall in love someday. I want to experience what my parents have. Going into an arranged marriage will not take me closer to that goal.
What if my husband is abusive? What if he wants to exercise his rights as a husband? Did he pay for my body as well?
These are things I can’t discuss with my parents, so at night, I just cry alone, careful that my parents do not hear. During the day, I just go off by myself, trying to measure my own resolve to escape or stay. Just a few hours every day. I go further and further each day. I always go back in the end. But as the day of the wedding looms closer, it takes me longer and longer to turn back.
And today, I came to this park and this bench.
And there’s this interesting guy sitting on the same bench. He says his name is Neil. It’s a good thing for me, he’s blind.
Day Two
Daniel
When I’m not pretending to be blind, I’m pretending to be a nice person.
I am not a nice guy. I’ve left a string of broken hearts and reputations. I have no remorse. Each of the women knew what I was capable of, yet they still went out with me. Maybe they thought they would be the ones to change me. So, in my defense, they entered with their eyes open. So, they shouldn’t blame me for hurting them. I never promised them anything that I was not prepared to give.
Okay, I did promise someone and I betrayed her trust. She had been the first woman I’ve ever let close to my heart. Anya. I wonder where she is now and how she is doing. I’m sure she is better off without me.
This tomboy, Charlie, sitting at the end of my bench kind of reminds me of Anya. She also has that awkward androgynous beauty that I always found appealing. I think it was that quality that Anya lost at some point, which made me also lose interest in her, thereby breaking her heart.
Am I doomed to never be contented with just one woman?
Lucy
“Have you been blind from birth, Neil?”
He smiles, and I wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t blind, but I am staring at him and I am liking what I am seeing.
He’s tall, and he carries his height with quiet confidence. He sits in a relaxed manner, and he dresses well—or maybe, the clothes hang well on him. I am sure he would have looked good even in just jeans and a T-shirt and sneakers. And his face! And although I normally go first for a guy’s eyes, everything else looks good. He can actually have just been this gorgeous guy trying to recover from a hangover, thus the party clothes and the ruffled appearance and the shades yesterday.
But he did say he was blind. He did, didn’t he?
“No,” he answers with a smile.
Damn, his smile is gorgeous too.
I wait for him to volunteer more information, but he doesn’t.
“Who or what are you running from?”
“Excuse me?” I say, startled.
He smiles again. Ah, be still my beating heart.
“Sorry, I’m being melodramatic. I like to make up stories for people I meet. And I think I made up this story about you being a runaway.”
I laugh nervously.
“Why did you think that story fitted me?”
“No reason. I don’t know. But are you?”
I think about what I would answer.
“Let’s just say that if I could, I would. Run away. But there are things we can never run away from.”
“Wow,” he says.
“Sorry, let’s talk about something else.”
We do. It is the second day of our meeting. I am still not sure why I came back to this park, to this bench, at this same time, but I am pretty sure it has something to do with wanting to see him again.
Day Three
Lucy
I stare at the gigantic rock on the ring on my finger. Is that even a real diamond?
“It’s real, Luce, isn’t it gorgeous?”
I looked up at my mom’s happy and excited face and I wonder whether she thinks I was even happy with this arrangement. Because everyone is treating this like a real-life engagement and wedding!
“And it’s a perfect fit!” she says, the excitement in her voice unmistakable.
I have a retort ready, but I avert my eyes and look back at the ring. I remember that Mom never had an engagement ring. My father couldn’t afford one. So, she never experienced all this. She is excited because she is happy I am experiencing this. She might have forgotten that this was a marriage of convenience.
“Luce?”
I snap out of my reverie. I force a smile on my face.
“Yes, Mom?”
“It would have been better if you had been present when Tony arrived.”
Tony is my father’s rich friend, the father of the man I am marrying.
“I’m sorry, I was . . . busy.”
“You’ve been busy a lot lately, disappearing for hours on end.”
I stare at her.
“I need to do some things, Mom. Before the time comes when I can’t do them anymore. Things for myself,” I say softly.
That silences my mom. She pats me softly on the shoulder, and the happiness and excitement leave her face. In their place is an apologetic expression that is somehow worse.
“Was his son even present?”
My mom shuffles and refuses to meet my eyes. I knew it. The man I am marrying isn’t also thrilled with the arrangement.
“When will I finally meet him? During the wedding?” I say, laughing that laugh that wants to come out like a sob.
“There’s a dinner, a week from now. You will meet him then.”
“That’s like a few days before the wedding. Not enough time to get to know the man I will be spending six months of my life with.”
Mom is silent.
“Mom, am I expected to live with him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“He has his own place in the city.”
“I see.”
“Luce . . . I . . . if you don’t want to do this, then don’t. We’ll . . . we’ll find another way.”
“Oh, c’mon, Mom. There is no other way. These opportunities don’t come our way every day, and it is perfect, save for my life in the next six months after the wedding. But it’s a small price to pay for keeping our house and saving your health. But you guys have to keep to the agreement—Dad cannot gamble again, and you will do what your doctors tell you to do.”
Mom nods. She has no more words.
Which is just as well.
I look at the time on the clock on the wall and I realize I have to prepare to go.
He would be there on our bench in a few hours. It would be the third day since we met. I am past caring why I go back. I just know I need to see him again.
Day Four
Daniel
Charlie is trying to run away from something she can’t outrun. Why do I want to protect this girl? It is so unlike me to even care. I mean, I can just stop coming back to this bench in this park. I have other important things I need to do and focus on. What do I really know about this girl? Apart from the fact that she is trying to disguise herself and that she seems to be running away from something?
From our conversations, I gathered that she is in her mid to late twenties. She’s an only child and she’s basically working as an accountant/bookkeeper for several clients, supporting her parents. Her dream is to travel—anywhere, where she is not bogged down by responsibilities.
Mind you, she never told me the above herself. I just gleaned it from different conversation threads we had. But I am a bit of a detective myself, and I am confident about this profile I have amassed about her.
Damn, I wonder what profile of me she has put together based on our conversations in the past few days?
Lucy
Neil’s rich—that much I could determine from his clothes and the way he carried himself. He is confident. He knows his way around a lot of things and I bet he gets his pick of ladies—sight-impaired or not. He is a catch.
He never talks about his blindness and always skirts around it when I bring it up. Which makes me think maybe he isn’t really blind. I should be mad, right? But I’m not. I just assumed he was blind. He never outright said he was blind. He wore the shades, yes, and acted like he was blind—but nothing overt. He never used it to take advantage of me or whatever. Although I know that if I had known he wasn’t blind the first day, I would have run away. So maybe . . . that charade—if it is a charade—is warranted, or else I won’t be here still with him.
I know what is waiting for me in the next week or so, so these precious moments I have with him make me feel like . . . I still have a choice. Like I can still have a different life.
Day Five
Daniel
I need to come clean. I need to tell her I’m not blind. I mean, I can’t keep up the charade for too much longer. The hours I spend with her daily on this bench have been . . . precious. I mean, I keep coming back and I want to know more about her. I’ve never felt like this before. I also want to save her and protect her from whatever it is that is looming in her life.
I hold the dark shades in my hands, considering my next move. I sit very still, with my eyes straight ahead, already in character before she arrives, just in case I change my mind.
But there is something distracting me. And I have to focus on that something.
Oh, it’s someone. A woman in a flowing bright mustard dress walked slowly toward me. She is breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair is blowing in the wind, her eyes staring at me, her smile a challenge.
Oh, shit.
It’s her.
And it’s too late. Because I’m sure she has seen my expression. If she didn’t before, she now knows I have been lying.
The question is, what will she do about it?
Lucy
I knew it. He’s not blind. I guess I knew it from the start, but I just went along with the charade, because it was nice talking to him. Maybe he thought I would run away if he said he wasn’t blind. He wasn’t half wrong if he did say so on the first day. But now? I’ve spent enough time with him that his being not really blind is not so bad. I mean, look at those eyes.
Without his usual shades, his eyes are everything I’ve been dreaming of for the past few days. Liar or not, he is gorgeous. Let’s see how he squirms out of this one.
I was careful in picking out the dress I was going to wear—flirty and sexy yet conservative, with sleeves and a hem below the knees. And the shoes—nothing too hard to walk in, but high enough to accentuate my legs. I also took care of my appearance. I blow-dried my hair and put on some light makeup. When I looked in the mirror before I left home, I wondered, if I did dress up and took a bit more care about how I presented myself to others, would I still be alone today and forced into a loveless marriage? Or would I already be married and maybe with kids?
He continues to stare at me, and I see a smile form on his lips. I love that smile, those lips. Oh dear, I can’t do this. I am getting married in less than two weeks!
I nearly stop walking, and he senses my hesitation because he stands up and walks up to me.
“Hi,” he says when we are a foot apart. He is tall and my line of sight is his broad chest. He is wearing a casual dark-gray T-shirt, fitting snugly, molding his upper body.
“Hello,” I answer, looking up, and meeting his eyes.
“So, I’m not blind,” he says, smiling. “In my defense, I had a major hangover and everything was really blurry that first day we met. My eyes were also sensitive so I couldn’t handle the bright sun.”
I stay silent, staring at him.
“But I do apologize if I led you to believe I was blind.”
I smile. “You are forgiven.” I move to sit on our bench.
“Ah, what about you?”
I stop and turn. “What about me?”
“What about your apology?”
“What should I apologize for?”
“I just told you I wasn’t blind. So, I have seen and I remember how you looked the last couple of days we met.” He gestures towards me. “This is nowhere in that girl I met and got to know. You were also hiding something.”
I smile. “Believe me, I looked closer to how you met me than now. But yeah, this is me, only more cleaned up. I just needed for you to admit you weren’t blind and this was the only way I thought how.”
He smiles. “I’m not complaining. Tomboyish you were cute and adorable, but this you? Beautiful.”
I must have blushed, because I felt the heat rush to my face.
“I think I like the blind you better, less cheeky,” I retort.
He laughs. We sit side by side. Suddenly, the distance between us the past few days as we sat on opposite ends of the bench is gone.
“Let’s start over. My name is Daniel, although my friends do call me Neil. I am not blind, but I do party a lot so I am privy to lots of hangovers so my trusty shades help manage the headaches the morning after.”
“I’m Lucy. I’m don’t usually dress like a runaway little boy and I just invented the name Charlie—from Peanuts.”
Daniel smiles.
“I also don’t dress like this often,” I add.
I extend my hand and he takes it. We shake on it.
But the feel of his skin on mine shakes my world too.
Daniel
The feel of her small hand in mine—it is totally right. This is good. This is bad. Why now?
No longer weighed down by my blind-man charade, I can study her face freely, and I see that there is something she is still not telling me. I mean, who am I that she should tell me everything, right? But I want to know everything about her.
“Lucy? What are you not telling me?”
She looks at me sadly, her smile tinged with regret.
“I only have a few more days that I can come back here. Then I have to say goodbye.”
It almost feels like a physical pain, the impact of what she said.
“How many days?” I ask.
“Four more days, excluding today.”
Four days. A lot can still happen in four days. She can change her mind. My own situation can change.
Day Six
Lucy
“Mom, Dad, don’t worry, I’m coming back. But I just need to go away for a few days. Trust me.”
That is what I tell my parents, but I don’t trust myself to really come back. But what the hell, I owe it to myself to be happy, even for a while. Before I come back to the reality of the next six months of my life.
I wait for Daniel on our bench, a carry-on bag at my feet. It is early in the morning, earlier than our usual afternoon meeting time.
I am going to do this.
I need to do this.
Daniel arrives and we drive a few hours outside of the city and stay in a quaint little inn near the sea.
Day Seven
Daniel
I am going crazy. Lucy . . . is just everything I’ve always wanted in a woman. Last night, our first night together, was nothing short of magical. She put her entire trust in me and I—I didn’t want to take advantage, but I just really wanted to kiss her. And when we were kissing, I just wanted to love her. And she let me. She let me. And it was different from all the other encounters I’ve had in the past. And because of that, I knew. I am screwed. I cannot lose this woman. To hell with the consequences.
Lucy
Last night, I gave myself to Daniel and it was everything I’ve ever dreamed it would be. Oh God, I’m falling in love with this man. And although I’m happy because I am experiencing all of these before I am saddled with the arranged marriage waiting for me in a few days, I am sad because I don’t want it to end.
Day Eight
Daniel
I don’t want this to end. After being the one who always ended my “relationships,” I am so freaking helpless about this one. Lucy had been very clear about the rules. Four days and after that, we couldn’t see each other again. Suited me fine at first, but as the days went by, I knew I was falling for her. Hell, I must have been in love with her from the first time we met.
I am ready to give up everything else for her. But she isn’t ready to do the same for me. She said so. She said she needed to go back, and she needed for “us” to be over by then. It hurt, but I have to respect her.
Because I love her.
Damn, this is my karma. I’m sure of it.
Day Nine
Lucy
I stare at the locket that Daniel holds in his hand. It is beautiful.
“It belonged to my mother. She gave it to me before she passed away and she made me promise to give it to a special woman in my life.”
I feel a sob catch in my throat. The past few days had been magical. Everything that I had wanted to experience before I entered my arranged marriage, I was able to experience. I thought it would be easier to accept my fate. It had just become even more difficult.
“Daniel, I can’t accept this. You should give this to the woman you would spend the rest of your life with.”
“There is no such woman in my life right now, except for you. And you wouldn’t have me. So please, just accept this, as a token of my love for you. Because I do love you, Lucy. If you told me to run away with you now, I would gladly do so.”
The tears fall on my cheeks.
“Daniel, I love you too. But I really can’t. I—” I break down and cry.
He takes me in his arms and kisses my tears away.
Gone
Daniel
I knew before I even opened my eyes that she would be gone. Last night we had already said our goodbyes. But seeing the empty space beside me in the bed hurts so bad.
I also realize what is waiting for me at home. The reality of my life . . . without her.
I slowly get up, shower, and pack.
The drive back is uneventful, except for thoughts of escaping and finding her, even if she explicitly told me not to. I have to control myself and drive on.
I promised her.
Lucy
Tonight’s the night. The past few days were just a dream. Tonight is when I will meet the man who will own my life for at least six months.
I dress carefully. I want to make a good impression. I didn’t want them to suddenly back out of the deal at the last minute. I should look like I am worth it.
I wear an elegant black dress that had been my mom’s, but we’d repaired and restyled it a bit. I wear my hair up and put on makeup, this time a bit heavier, yet still understated. I want my husband to see me as a woman who agreed to the arrangement but would not be broken.
I also wear the locket that Daniel gave me, my amulet for whatever will come. It proves to me that the past few days were not a dream.
They were real.
He was real.
What I felt was real.
I am real.
Whatever happens, I will hold on to that.
Dead Man Walking
Lucy
“Luce? It’s time.”
The voice comes from outside my bedroom door. I breathe deeply, look at my reflection, and nod to myself.
“I’ll be right down, Mom,” I say calmly, my heart beating wildly.
I walk slowly, deliberately, open my bedroom door, and walk through the hall to the stairs that would lead me to my future.
At the top of the stairs, I hesitate, then I go down, one torturous step at a time.
I see my mom and dad looking up, trying to look happy, but concerned for me. They look embarrassed. I want to hug them and let them know I have accepted my fate. I am okay with this. I have accepted this.
Then I see Uncle Tony, my family’s savior. I’ve never met him in the past, but I’ve seen pictures and have heard about him from my father ever since I was a kid. Uncle Tony is a handsome man, and I can only hope that his son would be the same. But more than just the physical aspect, I hope his son would be a good man, that he would not take advantage of me needlessly, and that he wouldn’t make me regret agreeing to this arrangement.
It is then that I see the man beside Uncle Tony. He has his back to the stairs, and based on the way Uncle Tony is gripping his arm, I see that the man is not happy to be in this house. I can totally relate.
He is taller than his father. His shoulders are broad. From behind, he looks so much like the person I should forget that the pain of not being with him just comes back in torrents.
I falter. I stop midway down the stairs.
I clutch at my amulet and I whisper his name, “Daniel.”
The man turns brusquely and looks up, his face set in a frown.
Our eyes meet.
And time stands still.
Lockdown
Daniel
I had it all planned. I was going to meet the woman I was supposed to marry, and I would apologize that I couldn’t marry her. But I will give her everything that was agreed on—even if it meant liquidating all my business ownerships, and my assets. I don’t care if I ended penniless, and if I don’t get my grandma’s bequest. My mom would have understood; I’m sure she wouldn’t have wanted me to give up real love for a charade.
My father is not pleased, obviously, and until the last minute, he is still convincing me to go through with it.
So when he grips my shoulder, I know it is time to meet the unfortunate woman that her family was “selling” to me to secure their future. I turn around and look up the stairs to see her.
Oh, my dear god! My breath catches in my throat. The memories of Lucy flash through my mind.
“Lucy,” I whisper.
Everything now makes sense!
I am the man and the situation she is running away from. She is the one I am being forced to be with.
What are the odds?
“Anthony Daniel Lorenzo, you promised to be a gentleman about this agreement,” my father whispers, rather hisses, into my ear.
I nod, not taking my eyes from Lucy’s. She had stopped in the middle of the stairs, her hand on the locket I gave her, her shoulders shaking.
Gentleman, my ass!
I shrug out of my father’s hold on my arms and take the steps two at a time until I am at her level.
She continues to shake, and her eyes are filling with tears, but she is beginning to smile.
I can’t help but smile too.
I take her face in my hands and then . . . I kiss her.
Lucy
My world spins around. I am in his arms, I am safe!
I don’t understand what is happening, but his lips on mine, and our bodies pressed together make sense to me, so I just let go and live in the moment.
Whatever happens can happen, as long as I am with Daniel.
The End
About Yeyet
Yeyet Soriano has been writing her entire life, first as an angst-ridden teenager, then as a single working woman, then as a married working woman with kids. Though the themes of her written works have changed over the years, she held on to one truth—she needed to write to keep the voices in her head at bay. She is the author of Turning Points, In My Dreams, The Retreat, and Until . . . Whenever. Her day job is that of an IT manager in charge of the Asia-Pacific region for a multinational corporation. She is married to a man