ACT TWO

THE MAN WITH PASSION

Being enrolled at the local ballet school with an environment where mothers and daughters alike knew that you are the daughter of the prima ballerina puts such a shame on every failure I make. As a daughter of a prima ballerina, discipline, excellence, poise, and grace are the top of the tier in the never-ending list of sky-high expectations. Errors seemed to be the biggest disgrace to be created once the day has started.

Having a series of errors while I was young excretes sarcastic laughs from student ballerinas. Nakahihiya ang anak ng prima ballerina. Napakasimpleng porma, hindi magawa nang maayos, I could hear them say behind my back. They were wishing me to fall back and assume the duties of disgrace and humiliation. With ballet, discipline is the never-ending mantra.

Do this. Do that. No, bend your knees a little farther. Point your toes properly. Soften your fingertips so your figure could breathe. Draw your shoulder back.

Every passing day allows me to reflect on the activities. I didn't see my failures as hindrances to my success, instead, I saw it as the glowing light to guide me in achieving the wonders of this art.

Tatiana is one of the few friends I made when I got enrolled at our local ballet school. With a bright smile and pale skin, she was one of those students who aced every performance. Tati is very kind and talking to her makes me feel at peace. Her giggles and the hollow on her cheeks whenever she smiles always reminded me of the bond that we shared as friends.

Sa mga ballerina na ginugustong maging mahusay sa larangan na 'to, wala akong ibang natanggap noon kun'di tawa tuwing nasisita dahil kulang ang pagkakahulma ng daliri't katawan. Minamaliit. Umiiling-iling at palihim na pinag-uusapan.

This is the price to pay as the daughter of a prima ballerina, they said. But I didn't let it in my head. Pinaghirapan ni Mommy ang pagiging professional dancer para maabot ang titulo na prima ballerina. She's a prime because she worked hard until she was enough to satisfy the glaring lights and applause that filled the theater. Ang simpleng pagtawa nila ay hindi sapat para panghinaan ako ng loob.

Failures are part of the journey. I could interpret it as a dead-end but I chose to jump over the wall. Ako lang naman ang pumipigil sa sarili para gawin ang inaasam.

Tuwing may ballet lessons, wala akong ginawa kun'di perpektuhin ang porma ng katawan sa bawat talon, tingkayad, at arko ng hita. Madalas na umuuwing manhid ang buong katawan dahil sa stretching, hindi naman ako umaangal dahil ginusto ko 'to.

Whenever our relatives ask me what I want to be, I said, 'I want to be like my Mom'. She's strong, dependable, and wise. Flexible, may I add. Namamangha ako tuwing nag-bebending si Mommy sa ballet room na parang walang butong sumusuporta sa kan'yang katawan. I could only go as far as a split and a little overboard for bending, but my mother exceeded it. Kung hindi ko lang alam na ballerina si Mommy, iisipin ko na gymnast siya.

Flexibility resulted in years and years of hard work; I believe. Kapag nagkakaroon ng oras na umiiyak ako dahil nahihirapan sa pinagagawa, nilalapitan ako ni Mommy para sabihin na kayang-kaya ko 'to. That I shouldn't give up because I can't do this seemingly difficult task. It would be difficult if you won't learn it, she said; I believed.

Tita Alessandra visited my mother once again because she'll be performing an act from Swan Lake, the role that gave her the big break. The notes soared through the vast array of silence. Once again, the theater danced before my eyes. Odette graced my line of sight. Swift, feathery moves like the swan incorporated in the open spaces of the seemingly-theatrical place. Her bourrée steps are precious because of its preciseness and clarity. The movement of her arms reminded me of the graceful flap of the white swan—elegant, picturesque, and radiant.

And then... explosive like Odile, the Black Swan, Odette's counterpart.

Gone was the peaceful white because tones of black were outlined as she deployed strict moves on her pointe work. A step of coupé jeté marked the edge of her moves. When Mama started her manége, I could only admire her facial expression and the strong control of her form.

I jumped from my seat and clapped enthusiastically.

"Mommy! Ang galing, galing, galing, galing!"

Marahas ang pagtaas-baba ng dibdib ni Mommy pagkatapos niya yumuko sa aming dalawa. Tita Alessandra has this overly-satisfied look in her face. Malawak din ang ngiti. Inabot ko ang tuwalya kay Mommy ngunit nag-crouch siya kaya masugid kong pinunasan ang mukha at dibdib na bahagyang nilitawan ng pawis.

"'My! 'My! Paano po yung ano... Yung dami-daming spins! Fouetté! Isa pa po! Gusto ko pong pag-aralan 'yon."

"Vien, you want to be a Swan Lake, too?"

Sunod-sunod ang pagtango ko at hinanda ang sarili para sa isang arabesque. Marahang tumawa si Mommy at Tita.

"Then, we'll ask your Tita Alessandra to teach you Swan Lake. You want that?"

Malawak ang ngiti ay tumango ulit ako bago hinatak ang dulo ng damit ni Tita. She looked down at me with admiration in her eyes before ruffling my hair. Sumimangot ako dahil sa nagulong bun.

"Tita naman! Ang hirap-hirap po ayusin ng hair."

"You're so cute, Lavien! Manang-mana ka sa kakulitan ng Mommy mo," she said as she tried to fix my hair.

I nodded and handed her the bobby pin that I got from the furry sling bag I always carry. "S'yempre po. I want to be a prima ballerina like my Mom! 'Di ba po ang galing ni Mommy sumayaw? I want to be like her!"

Tita frowned. "But do you want the sores and blisters that your Mommy has right now? Okay lang sa 'yo na hindi maganda ang paa?"

I pouted. "Hindi naman po kita ang bare feet ko kapag sumasayaw, Tita. Ikaw talaga!"

My answer resulted in their laughter.

The peak of those times.

I could only sigh and yearn for the passion that slipped away from my hands. Staring at the templates and drapes of fabrics across my now-called fabric table, did I choose the right track? Nasisiyahan ba talaga ako sa paghahabi ng tela para makahulma ng damit na magiging daan sa ibang landas? Sa landas na hindi ko alam na tatahakin ko? Iniikot ko pa lang ang mata sa natabunan kong lamesa, napabubuntong-hininga na lang ako.

Torture for my abandoned passion. Led me to what? Fashion Design. Nararamdaman ko nga ang tela. Nahihimigan ko rin ang parehong pakiramdam nito pero iba pa rin ang suotin ang mga 'to para sa pagsasayaw. Right now, it feels like I'm doing this just so I could graduate and get a job. Dapat nga na parte ng Opera ang pinili kong course at hindi 'to.

Regrets always fall at the end of the line.

Sighing for the umpteenth time, I closed my eyes and massaged the bridge of my nose. I thought that I could work a lot of ideas from Zoe Hong's YouTube channel but my mind isn't cooperating. It seeks to be a part of the long-lost passion.

Drawing my body back for a stretch, I yawned and carefully closed my sketchbook that is filled with croquis, a quick and sketchy drawing of a live model. Mayroon nang damit ang model ko pero hindi ako nasisiyahan sa kinalabasan ng ilang parte. Gustohin ko 'mang bumili ng alcohol markers sa The Cushion, baka kung saan pa ako makapunta. Kung hindi sa ballet section na naglalaman ng mga ribbon at elastic para sa pointe shoes, baka sa Pavlova makarating.

I don't want that. I've been restricting myself from that.

I glanced at the digital alarm clock before I decided to tidy up myself for a dinner at the dorm's dining hall. Pinatay ko ang ilaw ng kwarto dahil ako pa lang naman ang umookupa roon. The last roommate I had recently graduated, and there are a lot of other rooms, so I was all right with the placement of mates. Ayos lang naman sa 'kin kung may kasama pang isa sa two-bedroom dorm room, gano'n din kung wala.

I just... didn't care a lot since it happened. I have too much on my hands right now.

My oversized nude hoodie is really comfortable, the reason why it's my go-to whenever I'm up for late-night strolls or for just dinner. There was an attempt to put my hair in a clean bun but I immediately fought it. You're not a ballerina anymore, stop being a wannabe.

A sight of tightly-coiled hair in a neat, satisfying bun caught my sight. A student ballerina who just finished her disciplinary routines for her passion, I might say. There was a scratch in my heart when I passed by her. Hindi ko maiwas ang tingin sa hairnet na kakulay ng itim niyang buhok.

Finding gulping quite hard, I stepped my speed and slipped my fingers inside my hoodie to conceal the clamoring beat of my heart. Kagat-kagat ang ibabang labi ay umapak ako papasok ng elevator at tahimik na pumwesto sa gilid. There were five students who occupied the space but I didn't care if they saw how stress grew in my face. If I am still a ballerina, I would boldly care about the structure of my face. Now that I'm not, I lost count where I abandoned the need for the application of color; I just put it when badly needed.

The glassy chandelier that emitted golden glow inside the luxurious amber elevator put my figure into shame. Kitang-kita ko sa gilid na salamin kung gaano kapagod ang mata sa pagtatapos ng requirements. If only I was aware of how I didn't fit inside the lift's luxury, I could have taken the stairs instead. I could care less, besides, I am doing it to graduate—not for my passion, the word that always leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

But I'm too tired to care. I just want things to be done. Since the thinning of that golden word, I grew accustomed to living just to fulfill my role. Life seemed to be boring and deterrent after that. Passion built and molded me to become who I am. When I stepped away from it, it took all of my soul and left nothing but regrets.

I seethed a voluntary sigh when the elevator released a tiny sound. The withdrawal of the metal door toward its birth signified that I should deal with other batches of people who are speaking and inhaling passion. Sa bawat pasilyong nadaraanan, hindi mawawala sa mukha nila ang hirap ngunit sa likod no'n ay kaginhawaan at paniniwala—paniniwala na pagkatapos ng paghihirap na 'to, makakamit ko na ang pangarap.

Lucky are those who are determined and strong for their dreams are achieved.

Buntong-hininga muli ang aking pinakawalan bago itulak ang matayog na pinto na may disenyong inspirasyon ang arkitektura ng Roma. Clearly, all of the nooks and crannies of this school are birthed from passion. Mula sa pangalan ng bawat building at rooms hanggang sa disenyo ng banyo, mapahahanga na lang ako. Their passion and dedication brought them here. All that's left for me is to be dedicated to my work which is seemingly foreign to me.

Wala na nga talaga.

The sparkly chandeliers hanging from the proud, high ceiling blinded all my worries. With paintings decking on the walls that served as accents to the golden, French-inspired dining room, down to the aristocratic chairs, linens, and candelabras, the school could also do as much in making me believe that I'm living in a palace.

My feet took me to the long table that classified the student's course. I took my appropriate seat before removing the napkin beside the cloche. Napangingiti na lang din ako tuwing makikita ang buong pangalan na nakalagay sa harap. It makes me feel special.

Lavien Rosette Sevilja

The usual protocol: wait for the bell to ring before eating. Patuloy ang pagdagsaan ng mga estudyante at paghahanap ng upuan. Desperately searching for ideas, I busied myself by indulging my inner peace through the intake of notes from the live orchestra. Ilang minuto pa ang hihintayin bago mag-bell. Ngunit sa sunod na mga segundo ay nagkaroon ng kaonting komosyon sa may pinto.

I could hear some of the students toning down their screams because of certain reasons. While they are busy losing their poise, I am busy thinking about what dinner the school prepared for me tonight since they are in charge of the meals tailored to the student's health and diet, of course. Kailangang-kailangan lalong-lalo na ng mga... ballerina.

Nasilip ko ang sketchbook ng babaeng nasa tabi ko. She made a nicely-sketched croquis with some swatches at the side. Meron ding tela na nakadikit sa katabing pahina kung saan iba't iba ang kulay at texture na 'to.

I might not get some ideas from the notes but I got one from her. Brilliant. Makatutulong.

Mabilis kong inalis ang tingin sa nakabukas niyang sketchbook at humalumbaba sa lamesa. Inikot ko ang tingin bago ito pumirmi sa naglalakad na grupo ng mga lalake. There are a lot of girls who are staring at them, so they must be the reason behind their muffled screams. The four of them went to the table where passion-induced students occupied.

Nagkibitbalikat na lang ako at nagsimulang kumain nang mag-ring ang bell.

"May portfolio ka na?"

Natigilan ako sa pagkain nang kausapin ako ng babaeng tinitingnan ko ang sketchbook kanina. With poise, I moisted my throat with water before beaming an answer.

"Wala pa," matipid kong sagot bago ipinagpatuloy ang pagkain.

A hint of regret filled the back of my mind. This is not your local ballet school where people would judge your leaps, Lavien. You are not a ballerina anymore. Stop being this snobby because your petty title won't bring you up.

Hindi ko rin naman alam ang sasabihin. I was used to pushing people away, especially those who reek of full-blown passion.

She let a minute pass before speaking. "Um... alam mo ba kung bakit sila hinahangaan?"

I side-glanced at her. "No."

Pasimple kong kinagat ang ibabang labi. Gosh, I sound so bitter when I couldn't even find a reason why. Is it because I could sense them walking with passion? I shouldn't care. I shouldn't find it interesting in them.

Selfishness and conceitedness filled my being once I left my passion. Sa dami ng oras na itinutuon ko sa sarili, wala na akong ibang magawa kun'di ako at ako lang. Learning about myself, studying myself, and lecturing myself—all of those revolves around me. It gets tiring as time passes by, but I have no one to tell—and I have no intention to tell—so I lived with it.

Pagod na si Mama sa nangyari noon. She's not in the right state of mind to think about my problems because when passion sucked the soul out of me, it killed her. The withering of the light in her eyes is a heartbreak. The once prima ballerina whose form that is one with the theater disappeared like specks of dust in the wind. The hope she gave me also disappeared.

Withered. Abandoned in the dark. The eternity of darkness in my once rainbow-filled soul.

Living with my regrets and what-ifs at this school, I could do as much to be kind and be disciplined. Kahit iyon 'man lang na naituro ng ballet ang dinala ko. The rest is history. I don't want to keep thinking about it because it kills me.

The next day, I started to fill my sketchbook with some textures from the earth and fabric from the rolls. Kaliwang pahina ang nakadikit na tela't iba't ibang bagay, sa kanan ay ang croquis. This time, I created a deep magenta dress with drops of darker-toned tassel starting from the chest freely flowing on the lower area. Inspired by the sheer fabric and tassel earring that I saw from a Fashion Design student. Lihim akong napangiti nang bahagyang matuwa sa ginawa.

At some point, where my schedule doesn't demand a lot of presence at the Couture Room, I lingered my bored self at The Grand Library. Napakaraming references doon para sa pinili kong course at doon ako nag-uubos ng oras para makakuha ng inspirasyon. Minsan, nakatutulog ako ro'n at nagigising na merong umiiyak na estudyante dahil natapunan ng kung ano ang ginagawang drawing. With tear-stricken face and a frown, they are forced to clean up and restart their mess.

How I wish that my life's as easy as that. The appearance of the restart button then there. Safe. Sound. Yet it's perilous. I didn't want to risk it—straying away from my disciplinary routines. As if following a schedule, I immediately left my seat and went to the forbidden tree of Lavien Rosette.

The Pavlova Ballet Room.

It was the bleak of the day, and I wasn't expecting any of the elegance-induced people to be here. Kahit hindi sinasadya, napadaraan ako sa gym at nakikita na roon nag-uubos ng oras sa gabi ang mga ballerinas. At some point, I imagined myself being as graceful as them. Leaping my heart through every fold of the notes in the air before landing with such grace that leaves elegance on every path.

The sight of the empty ballet room, strictly resembling the Sevlja Mansion's ballet room, clenched my heart in pain. It restricted me from breathing. The diction of sadness, grief, and regrets started to fill every void of my being. Taking a step forward with my disapproval reflected in those floor-length mirrors, dictated me that I am disobeying the discipline I employed for years.

Do not dance.

Do not grace and waltz the theater.

Do not be a ballerina.

An endless list of 'do-not' with the thought of disregarding my love for the art of graceful dancing. Nararamdaman ko ang alarma sa likod ng utak, nagsasabing na huwag kong gawin 'to dahil may iiyak, masasaktan, at maghihirap.

Sunod-sunod na bumuhos ang mga ibinaon kong alaala habang iniikot ang mata sa pamilyar na lugar. The place's similarity to the community I invested in my juvenile years brought back different feelings—but one thing topped: regret.

Naririnig ko ang mahihinang bulong ng instructor kasabay ng utos na sundin ang tono ng piyesang nagmumula sa matayog na piano. Kung paano gawin ang tamang talon at huwag sirain ang linya para bigyang daan ang sentro ng paligsahan. Mahihinang lapag sa sahig kasabay ng arko ng katawan at tayog ng kamay. Malagkit na balat dahil sa pawis na bitbit mula sikat ng araw hanggang sa paglubog nito.

Binalot ako ng nakaraan kung saan ayos pa ang lahat. Kung saan malaya ko pang nagagawa ang sinisigaw ng puso. Kung saan nananaig pa ang kagustuhan ng kabataan ko. In the distance, I could imagine myself sitting near the corner as we got lessons on how to work with our pointe shoes. Having my first pair at eleven opened a lot of doors for me.

If I could maneuver my body with pointe shoes, I could land a role for Swan Lake... or any other big roles for the theater. I could master it, I heard them saying because I'm flexible and a fast-learner like my Mom. Madaling-madali kaya nakuha ko agad ang titulong 'yon sa isang contest.

I could only smile in resentment. I could only imagine. Hanggang do'n lang ang gagawin ko para hindi ako tuluyang mabaliw sa ginagawa.

Why not just give in to your guilty pleasures, Lavien? What's restricting you? My discipline. Hindi ko alam kung magpapasalamat ako ro'n o hindi. No matter what I do, ballet is etched at the back of my mind. Gustong-gusto kong alisin sa sistema ko pero kinalakihan ko na kaya walang ibang magawa kun'di mabuhay sa gano'n.

A pity party for the once-golden ballerina of the year. This is commitment that we're talking about. Lalaban ako dahil alam kong kakayanin ko kahit na mawala ko pa ang sarili ko. Kahit na parang nabubuhay ako para gampanan ang paulit-ulit na normal, gagawin ko. Mapasaya lang si Mommy. Maibigay ko lang ang kasiyahan na pinadarama niya noon.

But my heart tugged the strings and asked for a little redemption. Just a little... just to sate my lust... just to compensate a tinge of those lost years.

Nakatatawa nga naman. The more we deprive ourselves of the things that we love, the more we dwell ourselves towards it. The force of attraction—the similar repels, the different attracts. It's what we lived on. Seeking our guilty pleasures and regrets would wash upon our beliefs, reminding us of the disobedience we created.

Pero wala akong magagawa. Naaakit ako.

A seething jolt of pain entered my body as I closed my eyes, flapped my wings like the swan, and molded my body in a form that gave me the break as a Little Prima Ballerina—Odette of Swan Lake.

Malalalim na hininga ang ginawa ko at pinabalik-balik ang tingin sa repleksiyon ng nakasaradong pinto. No one would guess that I'm here, I'm sure. May kadiliman ang paligid at kailangan pang tumitig kung may tao sa loob. That is, unless, they're busy so they'd pass by. Matutuwa ako sa gano'n.

Ito ang una't huling pagkakataon na gagawin ko 'to. The next, I won't allow it. Mahirap na at baka bumalik sa nakasanayan. Sa dulo, baka humantong sa pagsisisi at pagbabalik sa nakaraan. I don't want that—my mother doesn't want that.

Mommy, I'm sorry, but I have to do this. Just one chance and I'll stop.

Inayos ko muli ang pag-aalala ng porma ng katawan. As if muscle memory filled my body, all of the pieces went to its places. Humahapdi ang dibdib ko. Naiiyak ako dahil dumadaloy ang pakiramdam ng nawawala kong sarili. I am starting to feel again but I know this would be momentary. After this, it's nada. I'm back to being a desperate fashion designer.

Mariin kong ipinikit ang mata at pumorma ulit para ihanda ang sarili sa araw-araw na pinagpa-practice-an na fouetté. Thirty-two... just thirty-two whipped turns then I'll stop myself from this disobedience.

Pointing my feet up, I immediately stumbled. Kinagat ko ang ibabang labi at humugot ng hininga dahil sa pagsisisi.

I can do this. Stop putting those years to waste.

Struggling for rounds and rounds of failures, the symphony fell in my mind. The numbers of jumps and stroke clicked and everything fell into place. Binanat ko ang braso bago suminghap at umikot kasabay ng pagtingkayad ng isang paa para sa tuloy-tuloy na ginagawa.

I held my breath the entire time I did the fouetté. Parang gusto kong umulit pero nakahihilo na. Wala pa ako sa kalahati pero alam kong sapat na 'yon at tatagal ng ilang taon. With a satisfied smile that reminded me how I sated my lust, I fixed myself after I got a hold of my consciousness.

Huli na 'to. Hindi na 'ko uulit pa.

I took a step forward yet my bubble immediately disappeared when I heard slow claps from the distance. Nanigas ako. Hindi ko maiangat ang tingin. Shaky breaths filled my consciousness as I tried to rethink what I did.

Someone saw me. Someone saw me dancing. It is enough to make me run but I am held frozen on the spot. As if someone forced me to grow roots and do pirouettes like a mechanically-powered ballerina in a music box.

Dahan-dahan kong inangat ang tingin. His dark pools of curiosity met my nervousness. His stare shook me to the core. It unnerved me. It seethed disobedience. It seethed wrath. Tahimik lang siyang nakatayo roon, labi ay nakapinid sa linya, at wala na ang palakpak ngunit nasa pormang tapos na ito.

But those mocking claps stilled and it's enough to wreak havoc in my seemingly-peaceful mind. His claps demoralized me. His stares are unhuman. Something is oozing from him and I don't like any single bit of it. Parang namamahiya. Parang nagmamalaki.

May gusto ka bang patunayan kaya nandito? Gusto mo ba akong pagtawanan?

Before, I yearned for the claps after every performance. It was my drug. I loved hearing it. But now that the tables took a spin and all that's left for me is to be the one who gives applause, it destroyed me.

Bakit ka pumalakpak?

"You danced so well. Why did you stop?"