Date: Thu, 16 Aug 2012 11:55:55 -0700 (PDT) From: John Michaels Subject: FILIPINO LOVE - Chapter Ten FILIPINO LOVE By JM Email: mmanlookin@yahoo.com Disclaimers and other info: see chapter one CHAPTER TEN As we went along, Ronni was talking excitedly about how happy he was now that he'd found me, how happy he was being able to stay with me, even if for only two weeks at this time, and also how happy he just KNEW his lola would be with everything, especially getting to meet me. He was talking so rapidly, I don't think he even paused for breath...definitely not stopping long enough for me to even respond with more than an occasional "yes", "no" or "uh huh." But I certainly didn't mind one bit. I was totally enjoying listening to his exuberant chatter, sometimes having to suppress a chuckle at his antics. We had been walking for about fifteen minutes when Ronni indicated that it was time to leave the beach and head toward the street. Upon reaching the street, I was somewhat taken aback to see the difference between the location of my cottage and where we were now. My cottage and the surrounding buildings were all of a construction-type that I found familiar. The buildings and houses where we were now were most definitely not of the same quality of construction. While they all looked sturdy enough, it was painfully obvious that the construction materials were of an inferior quality, and most of the buildings were roofed with very rusty metal. There was no reaction from Ronni as this was all very familiar to him, and I did my best to hide my shock. We had been holding hands for the last few minutes when Ronni suddenly tugged on my hand, pulling me along a little faster. I'm guessing the reason for this urgency was that we were very near our destination, and Ronni was getting excited. I guessed rightly, as Ronni directed us across the road toward a narrow alley between two of the buildings. I was only afforded a quick glance at the buildings as Ronni hurried us along, but from what I could tell, one was a sort of convenience store and the other one selling some sort of second-hand electronics. At least, that's what I think it was, since Ronni now had us moving at a fairly good clip. We turned into the alley, which went on for about 30 feet, before emerging into what I could only call a "courtyard" that was about the size of an official-sized basketball court, surrounded on all sides by buildings, most of them obviously houses. At first glance, it looked like there were three buildings on each side, although it was hard to tell for certain, since each side looked like one solid construction with only doors indicating separate occupancy on each side. It appeared that there were two on the end farthest from us, and it was in this direction that we were headed. Again, everything was built of the same sub-standard (MY assessment) materials with the same rusty roofs. Ronni took us to the house on the left at the end and stopped. Evidently, this was home. The door to the house was open, and the sounds of a TV could be heard from within. Pulling me along, he stepped inside and hollered, "Nanay! Tatay!" My limited Tagalog vocabulary told me his was calling out to his mother and father, respectively. I then heard a female voice from somewhere in the house reply, "Ronni?" Just then, a small, plump but attractive woman came through a door at the back. She had a big smile of welcome for her son, and then she noticed me, standing slightly behind and to the side of Ronni, just inside the door. Her smile faltered slightly in surprise at seeing her son accompanied by a stranger who was obviously much older, and not only that, but an obvious foreigner as well, but she soon regained her composure. Ronni ran up to her, and as they embraced each other, he was chattering away to her in Tagalog. From the few words I could understand, it sounded like he was telling her about me. That was confirmed when I saw her shoot me a quick glance with raised eyebrows. The dialogue between mother and son continued. I could sense that she was confused and concerned by what Ronni was telling her, but she never once looked angry or raised her voice. She was a mother who was trying to come to grips with the information Ronni seemed to be bombarding her with. Then, in the middle of whatever Ronni was telling her, I heard the word "lola". At that, I could see a subtle shift in her demeanor. The worry lines left her face, and I could even detect the trace of a smile. They must have come to the end of their talk, since Ronni turned and came to me, taking my hand in his. "Sorry for leave you, but I must tell Mama about you. She understand now. Come. You meet her now." We walked to where his mother was standing with a tentative smile on her face, which I returned. She was, as I said, a slightly plump woman, but definitely not fat. She had a pleasant round face, and her long dark hair was pulled back in a bun at the back of her head. She had care-worn hands, and was shorter than I first thought. Ronni's head came just to the top of my shoulder, and she was maybe half a head shorter than her son. I'm guessing her age to be early forties, but no more, although it's always hard to tell the age of Asians. They seem to keep a youthful appearance well into old age. Remembering some of the customs I had learned about the Philippines, I took her right hand in mine, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead and gave a small bow. This is a sign of respect when meeting someone older, although there may be only 10 years between our ages. Still, not only was she older, she was also the mother of my teen lover, and I DEFINITELY wanted to get off on the right foot. My action took her by surprise. I heard her give a small gasp, and when I stood up, she was positively beaming at me. Score one for the new son-in-law! Whether she was fully aware of everything, I'm not sure, but I have a VERY strong feeling I would find out much sooner than later. She immediately started talking excitedly to Ronni, and as she continued, the smile on his face grew and grew to the point that I thought his head would split. He turned to me and threw his arms around me, and mine automatically wrapped around him. "You surprise Mama," he said. "She very happy you know how to give respect." He then turned to his mother while taking my hand and said, in English, "Mama, this is Phil James, my love, my man." He then repeated (I think) in Tagalog. Must be, because I heard my name. Then he turned to me and said, "Phil, this is my mama, Venus Martinez (he pronounced it "Vee-noos", accent on the second syllable). I just realized that I hadn't known Ronni's last name. Somehow, it never came up until now. I was puzzled, however, how he knew my last name. If knowing it was through his dream or his lola, this was getting downright spooky! I decided, for my own peace of mind, to ask him. "Ronni, how did you know my last name." "That easy," he grinned. "You name on you travel bag. Sorry," he said, ducking his head in apparent embarrassment. "I not sneak. I just want to know you name." I gave him a warm hug to show that I wasn't upset. "That's ok," I said. "I was just wondering, that's all. And I didn't know your last name either until you introduced your mother." Just then, Ronni's mother spoke to him. I saw her gesture toward the back of the house then pointed at me. "Mama say we go have tea. Also, she bake cake. She want to serve you." With that, he again took my hand, and we followed his mother. As we went, I was able to observe the rest of the house. We had entered from the courtyard into what was obviously the main family room. There was a care-worn but comfortable-looking sofa, a few plain wooden chairs, a small TV sitting on a rickety-looking stand and a small floor fan that was valiantly trying to keep the worst of the heat at bay. The narrow hallway we were traversing was in the middle of the back wall of the room, and as we went along, I saw a door on either side that led into a small room on either side. As we were walking, Ronni explained that one of the rooms is where his parents slept and the other is where he slept with his brother and sister. We had paused briefly while he was telling me this, and I looked into the room he had indicated was his. There was a battered wardrobe on the far wall and a small bureau beside it. There was no evidence of any kind of a bed, so I asked him about that. He pointed to three rolled-up mats in the corner and said that was what they slept on. Because of how small the room was, they roll them up in the morning. I was beginning to get a clearer picture, now, of what life for the average Filipino looked like, but my education wasn't over yet. There would be more. We continued our short walk, coming to a narrow room that spanned the full width of the house, obviously the kitchen. But a kitchen unlike any I had ever seen. In the middle of the back wall was a door that led to the outside. Centered, but to the left of the room, was a well-scrubbed table, surrounded by six plain wooden chairs. To the left of the door was a sink not much larger than a hand basin, with a single faucet. To the right of the door was a stone hearth-like structure that vented through the roof, and a grill over the firebox. This was obviously the "stove". There was also a small refrigerator on the right-hand wall, the rest of that space taken up by a large open-shelf cupboard containing various pots, pans, plates, a few glasses and other assorted cooking and eating utensils. And while the rest of the house had concrete floors, thinly covered by small rugs and thin linoleum, the kitchen had a dirt floor. I'm guessing that maybe the kitchen was added after the rest of the house was built. I had read that a lot of Filipino homes had an outside kitchen accessible to the house. This was done primarily to keep the heat from the cooking range outside. It looks like this may have been the original design of Ronni's house, and that the kitchen was enclosed sometime later, which would explain the dirt floor. But dirt or not, the kitchen, like the rest of the house, was immaculately clean. Overall, the house was very small – maybe "compact" would be the polite word – and it amazed me that a family of five lived here. The cottage I was renting was almost twice the size and was designed for no more than two. But everything I had seen in his house, while not of the best quality, was at least in fairly good condition and serviceable. It suddenly occurred to me that what I was seeing was the home of a family in the lower to mid middle class. It was quite an eye-opener, that's for damn sure! Mrs. Martinez indicated to Ronni and me that we should sit at the table. I took my seat as she busied herself getting the tea ready with water already hot from the ever-present fire under the grill, and Ronni pitched in to help her, which I thought was a sweet gesture rather than something to impress me. In the short time I've known him, I can see that he's his own person. He doesn't seem the type to do something just to impress. He got dishes, cups for tea and eating utensils from the cupboard and placed them on the table. He then went to the refrigerator and took the cake his mother had made and brought it also to the table before sitting down beside me. He immediately grabbed my hand and leaned into me. Mr. Subtlety he ain't!! But it certainly wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he wanted. I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him as close as I could without knocking him out of his chair. This obviously wasn't enough. Once he felt my arm around him, he gave my the most wonderful smile, got out of his chair and placed himself firmly on my lap with his back to my chest. He then reached back, grabbed both of my arms and wrapped them around his chest. God!! I was in heaven! Holding him in my arms has become the most desirable thing in the world to me, and I was't even bothered by the fact that his mother was present. Of course, there is a bit of the devil in my angel as he gently started wiggling his butt against my rapidly inflating cock. When he felt the results of his efforts pressing into his back, he turned his head with a big shit-eating grin plastered across his face to see what my facial reaction was. I gave him a quick peck on the nose and a pinched his left nipple. I didn't pinch hard enough to hurt, but it certainly got his attention! At that moment, his mother appeared at the table with the tea, took a look at her son sitting on my lap and... Giggled!! She actually giggled, then started laughing. This got Ronni giggling as well, but I'm sure my face was fire-engine red! I had just been sussed by the mother of my teenage lover! She didn't even know I existed until a short time ago, and here I was, in a playful encounter with him as he sat on my lap. When she regained her composure, she started talking to Ronni. This caused another fit of giggles from him before he turned to me and said, "Mama say there is chair for everyone. We not have to share." "I don't mind sharing, especially with you, but for now, I think your mama is right. It will be hard to eat and drink with you on my lap. Any other time, my lap is all yours," I said. I'm glad he wasn't upset. Just the opposite. He was laughing as he got off my lap and went to his own chair. I just smiled at him and shook my head, which set off even more giggles. Then I turned to his mother, smiled and shrugged my shoulders. She chuckled, shook her head, and then surprised the hell out of me. "He like you much." I could here Ronni giggling once again (I'll NEVER get tired of that sound!). It felt like my eyebrows shot up into my hairline! When I found my voice, I asked, "You speak English?" With a shrug of her shoulders, she said, "Not much. Very little." I smiled and shook my head in bemusement. At that point, she proceeded to pour tea for us all, then started to cut the cake. I recognized it from my research as Lemon Sponge Cake, something that was almost a staple in most Filipino households. As she was handing the plate with my portion, there was an explosion of young voices, as two of the most adorable little kids I had ever seen, a boy and a girl, burst through the back door. How am I doing? Let me know at the email at the top. Thanks. Donations always needed to keep this free service going. Send to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html