Romance of the Four Juans

"My Life", that song by Billy Joel is playing on the radio, making the head of the house, Dante Silverio, feel lighter in spirit, so light he's even dancing and singing along to the song. This was only broken by the arrival of his ex-wife, Angel, who declares that she had prepared a surprise for the birthday boy. Dante deflates. Angel is the worst gift giver ever. When prompted to reveal the gift, she said something that made everyone pause and stare at her as if she'd grown two heads overnight. “I beg your pardon?” Dante grips the armrest of his chair. “I convinced all your sons to come and be your surprise guests.” She repeated. “All of them? At once? How did you manage such a feat?” “I simply told them that their incredibly rich father was dying. If it’s something boring like it’s your father’s birthday, no one will come. You should be dying.” “Dear Lord! What did I do to deserve this?” Dante stood. Angel is so cruel, springing this news on him so early in the morning, without regard for his health. “So, how many years do I have left?” “I told them to stay with you for a year.” “A year? That is long, Angelina!” “Not at all. When you see them and get to know them, you’ll find that a year is too short.” “What do you expect me to do in that period of time?” “Well… be a father.” Dante pursed his lips. True. He’d never been much of a father, never been involved in most of his sons’ lives for that matter. Out of his four sons, he’d never met the two middle children. At night, when dark thoughts plague his lonesome self, he would often think back to those two, what they are like, what they've become. They must resent him. Oh, and their mothers! One is eccentric, the other has no feelings for him whatsoever. Both rejected him in such a painful way, it’s a wonder that they’d permit their sons to come now after all these years. It really begs the question. How did Angel convince them and their mothers to see him now? So, this is it then, the beginning of his end. Dante went into the house, started nitpicking at everything, bracing himself for the onslaught of foreign feelings in the name of re-connection. The children came by order of birth, starting with the questionable eldest son, Huan, who arrived with his red motorcycle, wearing a leather jacket and fingerless gloves. His long hair immediately became a spectacle the moment he removed his helmet. It’s at shoulder-length now which he ties into a bun as he walks towards the usual people of the house. He greeted his mother first, giving Angel a hug and a quick kiss on the cheeks before taking the hands of his godparents, his parents’ oldest friends who live on either side of Dante's house, Asyong to the right and Cookie to the left, and putting it on his forehead as a sign of respect. Stretching back to his full height, Huan sighs before facing his estranged father. He never really thought he’d be back in this mansion again after everything that happened between them. Twelve years, it has been that long since he packed his bags and left, yet Dante’s house hasn’t changed a bit. It’s still the same as Huan remembers it, massive, cold, and overly dramatic. “Yo!” Huan grins, even raises his palms up and then salutes. Huan knew he could only muster an awkward hello because he’s still afraid to be in close contact with this man who raised him. “You grew your hair again. It makes you look more like a girl.” Dante comments. “It’s a good look on you.” That was it and Dante cannot look at his son in the eye again. He turns, taking a plate from the table and filling it with tiny cakes. Parents should lose to their kids. That was what Angel told him when Huan was about ten. It was a conflicting time for him as a father. Huan wanted to do something he disapproved of, and he had always wondered if that had been a wise decision then. The kid has always made him second guess himself. “I heard you were dying.” Dante turns towards his son once more. “Angel is a liar.” he says more to himself than to Huan. “So are you.” “Is that how you talk to your elder?” “You disowned me.” “I had the feeling at the time that you no longer wanted to be my son.” “That is true.” “And now?” “I’m here, aren’t I?” “Why did you come back?” “You’re sick.” “You believe that crap?” “I believe mama.” Dante sighs. It’s pointless, he’s already losing his temper, but the boy is just standing there, smiling at him like a fool, enjoying the fact that he was able to rile him up. Huan chuckles as his father sighs in defeat. “Want to know what you’re going to inherit if I die? Go to work on Monday.” “No. You can’t get rid of me like that, papa. Whoever said I want to work for you? I’m here for a long vacation. Even if you are indeed sick, I will still find time to relax in this stressful environment. Don’t make me feel responsible for anything, a?” His old man rolls his eyes and changes the subject. “How is Cho Rong?” Huan humors all of his father’s questions despite how uncomfortable he feels about it. It’s been more than a decade after all, there must be a lot of things that Dante wants to know about him. Though Huan is sure that Cho Rong is feeding his father information about him, it must feel inadequate still that Dante has to know it from the source. So, Huan answers in his usual straightforward manner. “Tread carefully.” Huan warns. “Do not test those waters, papa. Cho Rong and I are still at war.” “Be nicer to her. If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t have discovered that your girlfriend is cheating on you. Cho Rong is a good friend.” “What Cho Rong did is not commendable at all. Because it’s a circumstance where telling is better than showing. I did not appreciate what she did. I was perfectly at peace with Soo Yeon, if you must know. If it was up to me, I would’ve preferred not knowing.” “You can’t be serious! Don’t tell me you’re still meeting that girl after knowing what you know now?” “That bridge has collapsed to the point of no return, father. Soo Yeon is married.” “Married? Ahy, Huan. You should’ve beaten her to it.” “Beat her to it? Who would I marry? Unlike her, I don’t have an extra lover on the side.” “The best revenge is to have a better relationship than what you had with her. Do you have plans to get married at all?” “When I’m thirty-five.” “That’s nice. Thirty-five is a good age to be married. But please don’t wait until you’re thirty-five to start looking. Okay? Start early. Date now.” Huan catches him looking at his motorcycle. “Why don’t you have luggage? Are you not staying after all?” “I was under the impression that I still have my things left around. Or did you throw them away?” “Of course not. But it’s been more than a decade since you wore them last. You think they still fit?” “If it doesn’t, maybe I can borrow a shirt or two from your other children.” Huan laughed at how uncomfortable Dante looked when he touched the subject. “I think it’s nice... I mean, I won’t regret being here if I have something like that... siblings.” Dante Silverio looks at his son, and for the first time, he realized the mistakes he made as a person, as a man and as a father.