Wild Child

13 June 2005

Dear Friends,

When I think of Robec, I always remember a smiling face.  Robec is one of my dearest friends, if not the dearest, in medical school.  Marie is lesbian and was Robec’s classmate and confidante in college.  Bebang is lesbian and came from an exclusive school for girls.  Robec is sexually fluid, i.e., bisexual.  I’m gay.  We formed the core LGBT group in our batch in medical school.  We were quite notorious for being able to mix business (studies) with pleasure even during toxic moments.

Robec was a wild child.  Her pretty face and friendliness attracted admirers.  She never got involved in LGBT activism, but she had always been there to give me support.  She once marched with me in Remedios Circle during the Pride March as part of the medical team.

On our third year, Bebang, then our class president, convinced Robec to join the Miss Medicine contest.  Robec was at her chubbiest then.  “You have the face.  Now you also have the body.”  Robec relented and smiled through our teasing.  We got ourselves hoarse during pageant night.

Robec once got romantically involved with a sorority chancellor.  It was, I would say, a match made in heaven.  They parted ways as good friends.

I can not forget how Robec survived being kicked out of her home for getting pregnant out of wedlock.

She learned about the guy’s first family too late.  We were in our last year then.  Robec moved from place to place just to survive.  She stayed with Marie for some time during her pregnancy.  I heard she gave birth in a government hospital, but she told me she gave birth in a private lying-in.

It was surprising how she was able to juggle clinical clerkship and pregnancy while looking for support wherever she could.  Her humility saw her through.  The guy left her and the baby.  From a life of luxury to the slums, my dear friend survived.  And, I never heard her malign anyone.

We asked her to go back to her family.  We thought it best for the baby.

When she returned, her father would dote on the baby but would rarely acknowledge her.  I think Robec found more warmth when she was alone fighting for her and her child’s survival.

I last saw Robec on my birthday in 2004.  After that, we just communicated via text.  We had become busy with our respective medical practice.  She once planned to open a clinic in Bicol where we would be partners.

I recall texting her around 3 weeks ago, but there was no reply.  It was unusual because she would always reply, even after a day later.

On June 6 (Monday), Bebang called me about the news of Robec’s drowning.  We confirmed our friend’s passing the next morning.  How can a competitive swimmer drown?

Only Bebang, Joey, Cathy and I were present among Robec’s medical school classmates during her burial.  Many visited her while at Funeraria Paz where albums of Robec’s pictures showed milestones in her life and the places she’d been to: L.A., the Eiffel Tower, Disneyland, her 4 years of schooling in Nigeria, etc.

Before transporting Robec’s remains from Paz to her final resting place, Nica, Robec’s daughter, asked Cathy while I looked on, “Ililibing na po ba siya? (Will she be buried now?)”

I did not – and could not – speak during the eulogy because I wanted to speak about Robec’s indefatigable might during her pregnancy.  Her family and relatives who were not aware of what had happened might get offended.  She was never an LGBT activist like me, but her life was a cause in itself.

Bebang and Joey had better things to say.  They gave justice to the life of a wild child who swam until she ran out of sea.  My face was dry, but the dam broke when the first mound of earth (11:45 a.m.) touched the white box six feet under.  The truth that Robec is now beyond the veil finally sank in.

Wency Cornejo’s “Hanggang (Until),” the theme song of the film Dekada ‘70, played in my mind as the earth covered my beloved’s casket.

Bebang, Joey, Cathy and I had lunch together after.

Thank you so much.

Yours truly,

Robert Baytan

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The letter was sent to friends via e-mail on noted date.

Spare

There are a lot of things in this world that I can not afford, but I can afford to be kind.  Kindness, on the rare occasion that it strikes, is the only "positive" privilege left for neurotic people like me.  Nagmumuni-muni lamang ang tumatanding bading (The aging gay man simply ponders).  Gandang araw (Good day).

Once Upon a Time

9 May 2005

Dearly Beloved,

If I’m not mistaken, Lily’s first boyfriend is Fred.  They became steady when we were in third year high school.  When our senior year started, the two had broken up.

Lily was 1 year ahead of me in grade school.  I’m hazy on the details, but I think she stopped schooling.  She returned and became my classmate on the fifth grade.

Fred transferred to our school, as far as I remember, when we were froshies.  Fred was the only pure Filipino student in our batch.  Most of us were from Chinese ancestry.

On our senior year, Fred was seated in front of me.  Lily was a column away behind me.  Fred became a good friend.  He became aware of my intimacy with Lily and told me that he wanted Lily to be with me more than with anybody else (other than himself, of course).

Lily and I never became official.  It was one of those MUs (malabong usapan or mutual unclearness).  People – or probably I – just assumed we were steady.

Lily and I were not exactly in good terms during prom season, so she dated somebody else during prom night.  I can not recall who went out with me that night.  I think I went solo.  I do not remember Fred’s date either.  Selective amnesia rules.

Lily and I were in good terms come graduation time.  We continuously communicated via phone at least once a month for 2 years while in college.  She finished Interior Design in an exclusive school for girls.

Fred kept in touch with her too (intermittently or continuously, I never asked).

I stopped calling Lily on a regular basis when I became aware of my homosexuality.  It was a struggle I felt I had to face alone.  We were nearly through with second year college (1988), and my true identity was catching up on me.

In 1991, I met Fred on a regular basis at the university because his girlfriend, Beatrice, was my schoolmate. Beatrice is deaf-mute and lived a few houses away from Fred’s.  Beatrice belongs to the first batch of deaf-mutes to earn a certificate in accountancy in our school.  In the same year, I fell in love with a man for the first time.  That man is Tom, also deaf-mute and Beatrice’s batchmate.

Beatrice became my good friend because of Fred, and I told her about my emotions for Tom.  She distanced herself from me when she began her affair with Tom (while going steady with Fred).  I never told Fred because I knew he would notice soon enough.

Before Tom and Beatrice graduated, Beatrice broke up with Fred to be with Tom.  Tom and Beatrice now live abroad.  My love for Tom was unrequited.

On 10 January 1993, I met Lily and Penny at McDonald’s Grand Central.  We stayed at the far end of the food chain.  I asked Lily to come alone.  I was totally surprised to see Penny.  I met Lily to confirm that we did have an MU and to tell her about my homosexuality.  She accepted me as I am, although Penny said that they had thought I asked to meet Lily to ask for her hand in marriage.  I apologized for the disappointment.

Fred, as mentioned earlier, kept in touch with Lily.  I learned a long time ago not to ask Lily about her love life.

In the mid-1990s, especially while I attended medical school, Lily, Penny, Mark, and I would go out on weekends.  In high school, Lily and Penny belonged to a clique called Pink Ladies.  Mark was one of my closest friends.  Penny and Mark, never romantically involved in high school, fell in love and married in the year 2000.  They now have two children.  During those weekends, I told Mark about my plan to propose a domestic partnership (not marriage) to Lily where she would bear my children while we pursued separate love lives.  I never approached Lily about that matter because she deserved better.  She has no idea to this day.

In September 2004, I attended a medical mission in Quezon City organized by a Chinese foundation where Lily was a volunteer.  One of Lily’s friends at the foundation asked her if I was the one.  I saw that woman at the wedding.

Late April this year, Lily invited me through text to attend an unspecified gathering on May 8.  I was supposed to be on duty.  She told me to take a leave or “magagalit ako sa iyo (I will get mad at you).”  I asked her if it’s her wedding or her child’s baptismal.  “Basta (just go),” was her reply.

Three days before the wedding, I asked her where the gathering would take place.  San Agustin Church 7:00 p.m.  I knew then she would get married.  I was not sure if Fred was the lucky guy.  Lily hid her relationship with Fred in high school from her family because Fred is not Chinese.

When my and Fred’s eyes connected for the first time outside San Agustin Church, I approached and congratulated him.  He said, “Sorry ha.  I will take something away from you.”  We laughed at that.

At 7:51 p.m. Philippine Standard Time, Lily walked the aisle as the music played on.  I did not stand up.  I wanted her to walk undistracted (as if I could distract her from her big moment).  As she passed me, butterflies were released from either side.  People cheered.  Three butterflies nestled on the train of Lily’s wedding dress.  At the time, I felt that the three butterflies whispered my last "I love you" to her.

While Lily and Fred said “I do,” I imagined Lily as a goddess much like Aphrodite, and the image of a missile landing on the back of Fred’s head suddenly flashed in my mind.  Where did that come from?

Lily saw me for the first time that night during the picture taking at the altar.  I gave Lily a peck on the cheek as Fred looked on.

During the reception at Father Blanco’s Garden, Mark told me teasingly that Lily is the one who got away.  Only Zeny, among those invited by Lily, knew that Lily would marry Fred.  Zeny has been Lily’s confidante since even before the Pink Ladies.  Penny, Mark and I found out who the groom was on the wedding day itself.  Penny vacillated between Fred and me.

There was a mixture of pain and happiness when I heard Lily and Fred exchange vows.  Something in me wanted to cry.  I was/am happy for Lily.  Fred is a good man worthy of her.  There was pain because the fantasy that Lily would grow old with me as a longtime friend would not be fully realized.  She would have Fred to grow old with, both as a friend and a lover.  But, that’s my selfishness rearing its ugly head.

I think that with Lily’s marriage went my heterosexual aspect.  She is the only “lover” that I loved the longest, and with tenderness.  I actually asked myself if it’s [my] internalized homophobia that clings to a heterosexual past.  But, my heart says love knows no gender, whatever one’s sexual preference.

For some reason, I’m still reeling from Lily’s wedding.  I’ll be fine, and always be Gay and Proud for the world to love or hate.

Lily is the only woman I was willing to give up the world for.  Once upon a time.

Yours truly,

Robert Baytan

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The letter was sent to friends via e-mail on noted date.  One of the recipients was my editor at L magazine, so the letter was published in L in 2005.  The names had been changed, of course.