Peter Solis Nery (writing for “My Life as Art”) will be living off-the-grid for the rest of March 2021. You don’t know if it’s because of COVID. Or if he’s getting even richer than he is now. Or if he’s into another one of his spiritual quests. He will most likely be back in April. His most avid readers, meanwhile, may enjoy the episodes of his novel-in-installments “The Adventures of Peter Valentine.” It’s available on Wattpad, but who reads Wattpad anymore? Haha!)
THE beautiful blond Corbin Morin woke up late and naked on the Sunday morning after making love all night to Peter Valentine in Lisa Buenafe’s small Mid-Century Builder-style house on Prince George Street.
He lazily picked up his clothes which were scattered on the floor, and stretched some before putting them back on. When he joined Lisa and Valentine in the kitchen, the two had already prepared a table spread of brunch with waffles, sausages, ham, bacon, cheese, a mixed arrangement of fresh fruits, and reheated Filipino dishes like adobo, mechado, pancit, and puto cheese in addition to a freshly made pot of pork ribs sinigang complete with kangkong and radish.
Corbin was, of course, amazed, maybe scandalized, by the amount and variety of food on the table, but he only wanted a beer first to fix his hangover.
“It’s a Filipino thing,” Lisa explained all the food. “Besides, it’s a Sunday, we can just laze around here in the kitchen, and eat all day.”
“Budweiser’s okay?” Valentine asked Corbin as he opened the refrigerator. “I don’t think they have Bella Ciao in Vancouver,” he added. Then, he turned and asked Lisa, “Do you, Liz?”
“What’s that?” And then, she said, “No, I only stock Buds.”
But Corbin smiled, impressed. “You know your beers,” he told Valentine. “Budweiser is okay.” Then he smiled his killer smile again as he teasingly addressed Valentine, “And I can tell that you know much about Quebecois. Your terrible French trick was amusing and cute last night. There’s nothing sexier than a Filipino trying very hard to speak French just to pick up a Quebecois.”
Valentine snapped open the beer can, and kissed Corbin on the lips before handing it to him. “I got friends in Quebec, you know. But in Montreal though, not Quebec City. I’ve been to Montreal a few times for the Jazz Festival and the Canada Day celebrations.”
The three of them talked much, and ate very leisurely: Corbin had his beer, Lisa had waffles and things light and healthy, while Valentine enjoyed the rich and sinfully delicious Filipino food. He skipped the rice all right, but had a plateful of reheated two-day old pancit, two big slices of adobo, and three bowls of the sinigang soup.
Corbin had two more beers before he finally started eating. But by then, Lisa had joined him with the beer, and between the two of them, they moved on to their second six-pack of Budweiser.
Lisa had taken a cup of coffee with Valentine before brunch, and since Corbin didn’t take anyway, Valentine helped himself with the rest of the brewed coffee in the big pot.
And they all laughed, and talked nonstop about their life histories, crazy adventures, and, Valentine thought, about other things that ought not to be discussed in the kitchen on a Sunday.
But Lisa was determined to go ahead with her wicked plans. Pure evil. She was a predatory she-wolf in the sheep’s clothing. From out of nowhere, she asked about Corbin’s bisexuality.
Valentine shook his head, feeling sorry and uneasy. He liked Corbin, and he didn’t like it that the stranger (that he intimately knew, but Liza didn’t), was put on the spot by his trusted, and considerably good, friend.
But part of him also wanted to hear what Corbin had to say. He wanted to know what, and how, Corbin thinks — his beliefs, his limitations, his ideology. But mostly, he was hoping that Corbin would champion or defend, and speak gallantly about what they had after Lisa left them alone together.
Because Lisa had planted the doubt, Valentine really wanted to hear from Corbin that he was more than just a drunken fuck on a Pride weekend.
***
The thing about coffee and Valentine is that coffee makes him go. Since Corbin was chugging his beer all morning, Valentine helped himself with several cups of brewed coffee during, and after, the protracted brunch; in addition to the first cups in the morning while he and Lisa were preparing the food.
When Valentine’s natural laxative started working, Corbin was in the middle of explaining his sexuality. Miserably, Valentine excused himself, and just wished that Lisa would remember and tell him everything after Corbin was gone, and they were just best friends alone.
The bathroom scene was terrible. Valentine was in a rush to get back to Corbin and Lisa. But he was detained by explosive diarrhea. He knew it wasn’t just his coffee. And he was thinking — Could it have been the reheated pancit? There was something off in the pancit earlier, but he finished his plate anyway because he wasn’t the type to throw away food.
When he finally finished his toilet business, he hurried back to the kitchen, but only to turn into stone right where he stood.
He died standing, frozen, petrified as in the legends.
For what he saw was the Gorgon Medusa’s head full of snakes, and it was held by his blond Perseus. And Perseus was kissing the Gorgon’s mouth!
As his body turned into stone, the last warmth of humanity coursed from Valentine’s heart to his eyes, where they found expression, and incessantly flowed, like silent tears.
Valentine stood there crying, and muffling his cry; trying to think, but he couldn’t anymore. He was feeling numb seeing his viper of a best friend French kissing his blue-eyed blond Quebecois.
When they finally broke up their drunken kiss, Corbin and Lisa were disgusted with each other.
Corbin was sorry, but he didn’t have the nerve to talk to the heartbroken Valentine, who rushed back to the bathroom.
Lisa ordered an Uber ride for Corbin, and the Quebecois just left without saying goodbye to Valentine, who was inconsolable, and silently shedding tears while also sitting out a diarrhea on the fucking toilet bowl./PN
