Rhythm (14 page)

I shake my head together with the others, but
Grant raises his hand.

“Yes . . .” Mr. Q checks Grant’s name tag on
his left chest. “Grant, what is it?”

“What does the Q stands for? I mean, your
name—Q—what does it mean?” he asks, purely intrigued.

Mr. Q laughs before answering. “I get that a
lot. Anyway, it stands for the number seventeen. I’m the
seventeenth child among the twenty-one. Yes, that’s possible.” He
chuckles. “Maybe my parents got tired of thinking a name, so they
decided to name us the letters instead, according to our rank in
birth.”

“That’s your full name? Q Roberts?” Grant
asks, disbelievingly.

“As short as it may seem, yes,” Mr. Q
validates, amused by Grant’s question. “Excuse me, Grant. You two
are quite young looking. If you don’t mind, how old are the both of
you?”

“I don’t mind. We’re both twenty years old,”
Grant answers confidently with an added disclaimer, “And no, she’s
not pregnant, if I may say. We’re kind of saving
that
after
marriage.”

I blush at his unexpected bluntness and bow
my head to hide my face.

“Oh. It’s nice to know that you two are
saving your purity for marriage, that’s unusual these days, but
that is definitely a perfect epitome of what should a relationship
should be like before marriage . . . pure. I’m glad that you are
preparing before getting married,” Mr. Q says with much enthusiasm
as if hearing the facts that we are saving our purity and preparing
for our marriage are music in his ears. Seeing that his answer
about his name somehow satisfies Grant, he proceeds. “If there are
no other questions, Amanda will give you the test sheets, and we’ll
start the first part. Okay?”

We all nod in agreement then Amanda appears
to give us the test sheets.

“The test is quite simple. Just choose
between the two choices in each number the one you prefer at any
given time. It should answer this question: What will make you feel
more loved? Like for number one, do you prefer to watch a movie
with your spouse or you like it better that you hear him or her say
that you are handsome or pretty?” Mr. Q scans the crowd to check if
we understand. “Remember, there are no right or wrong answers. Be
honest in answering so that you’ll get the most out of this
seminar. We clear?”

“Clear,” we answer in chorus.

“If you have questions during the test,
kindly raise your hand, and Amanda will be happy to assist you. If
you’re ready, you may start.”

I gawp at Grant and see that he is serious in
answering the test. I love this particular view. I appreciate how
he seriously takes this kind of preparation for our marriage.

I pay attention to my own test sheet and
resume in answering.

This is not that easy. I understand now the
choice of words of Mr. Q. He said that this test is quite
simple
, he didn’t say
easy
.

I always want to pick both, but when I ask
Amanda if that’s possible, she says to pick only one, that I should
choose the one that stands out for me. I say, “Okay,” then go back
to my inner struggle.

After thirty minutes, Mr. Q goes in front and
discusses the five different love languages. There are five: words
of affirmation (e.g. tell him he is handsome), acts of service
(e.g. do the laundry), receiving gifts (e.g. give him a new shirt),
quality time (e.g. go biking with him), and physical touch (e.g.
holding his hand).

Mr. Q tells us that it’s time for us to know
the results of our test, so we tally our answers to get what our
love language/s is/are.

“Now that you know the results, discuss it
with your partner,” Mr. Q prompts us.

Grant

“Okay, you go first,” Rhy instructs me.

“Ladies first, love,” I oppose.

“Fine. My results are quality time and
receiving gifts. Yours?”

“Words of affirmation and acts of service,” I
offer. “That explains it—why it seems easier for us to avoid any
physical contact, and your love languages . . . That’s why my
surprises always worked because they were always accompanied by
spending quality time. Like the cliff, parasailing, and the
likes.”

“Right, but I need to work on in filling your
love tank. I don’t affirm you that much, and the only act of
service I remember doing for you is cooking,” she fusses.

“I like you to take it back. You know that
every single time you thank me for something that I said to or did
for you is a big way of affirmation. About the act of service, I
think you’ll have more opportunity when we’re married already.” I
wink at her.

She laughs. “That sounds like a plan.”

“Okay, is everyone ready for the final part?”
Mr. Q asks. “Questions are now ready to be entertained.”

The first one to raise a hand is Andi. “Hi. I
just want to ask, what shall I do if I’m having a hard time
speaking the love languages of my spouse?”

“What’re his love languages?”

“Physical touch and acts of service. I’m
having a hard time at both.”

“You a career woman?”

Andi nods.

“Knew it. I will advise that you take a time
off your work to work on in speaking your husband’s love language.
Most of the time, we need to make time for the most important
person in our lives. I think you’re having a hard time not because
they aren’t your love languages. You’re having a hard time because
you don’t have time to speak them. And I just said the word time
for the nth time in record time,” he ends his serious advise with a
joke.

“I get it. Thank you so much, Mr. Q,” Andi
says before looking at her husband who’s now smiling from ear to
ear.

Most of the questions are about how to
address the love languages of their respective spouses or
spouses-to-be, and that’s how it goes for the rest of the Q&A
portion.

Both Rhythm and I enjoy the seminar—it
doesn’t even feel like one. It’s more of a fun learning experience
for us than a boring lecture. We compare each other’s notes and
these are the things that are noteworthy:

1. Speak your spouse’s love
languages even if you don’t feel like it.

2. Make time to speak your
spouse’s love languages. If it means that you should file for a
one-month vacation leave, do so.

3. When your spouse doesn’t speak
your love languages, speak his or hers. It will most likely lead
him or her to reciprocate it.

“I love you, handsome. Thank you for today,”
Rhy tells me with a look that says, “I’m speaking your love
language.”

“I love you, too, beautiful,” I tell her
back. “Ready for my surprise?”

Her brows furrow. “You
don’t
have a
surprise.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

I don’t wait for her to argue with me. I lead
her to the truck, drive to our destination, and let her absorb
everything.

“A wedding on a cliff? Really, Grant?” She’s
teary-eyed once she sees the venue of our wedding. It may not be
the cliff we always go to, but I think it will do.

“Like it?”

“That’s the understatement of the year,
love,” she informs me. “If every time I speak your love languages
you’re going to have a payback that I approve, then I don’t see
that I will ever get tired speaking them. Ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever,” she repeats happily.

Rhythm

“Rip, you look like someone
not
Rip,”
Lola states as she catches sight of me all prepped up in my wedding
gown.

“Should I be worried? Grant might back out
the moment he sees Rip is not here,” I make a flippant remark.

“No worries, he’ll adapt.”

L haven’t said the words
you, are,
and
beautiful
to me since she saw me. I’m starting to worry that
there’s something wrong with me. I peek in the full-length mirror
to check what it might be. Is it my hair? No. Is it my makeup? No,
don’t think so. Is it my wedding gown? Nope. Or is it just . . .
me?

“Okay, fine. You are beautiful, Rip—very
beautiful. In fact, your beauty might have affected my standards in
dating. I might consider being serious with one guy just so I could
experience what you’re experiencing now.”

“That sounds promising, L,” I reply with a
relieved laugh. “There’s no wonder you’ll get married someday, too.
You deserve the bliss I feel right now.” I offer a silent prayer
for my best friend to find the man God has for her. “And, thank you
for the compliment. It helps ease the nerves of a bride, you
know.”

“I know,” she admits.

A knock on the door startles us.

“Who is it?” L, who serves as a guard, asks.
She’s making sure that Grant will not have his way in seeing his
bride before the actual wedding.

“Us,” my mother and father reply.

“Come in. Rip’s decent,” L invites them.

They are both teary-eyed when they see
me.

“Oh, honey. You’re perfect,” Mama says while
wiping a tear that betrays her.

“Grant is one lucky guy to have someone like
you, darling. You are very beautiful,” Papa declares and adds,
“Just like your mama.”

Mama blushes at the unexpected compliment
from Papa.

“Oh, no. Don’t flirt at my wedding day.
Olivia and my siblings are here, Papa,” I remind him.

“I’m not flirting. I’m stating a fact,” he
answers in quick defense.

Another knock stuns us.

“Who is it?” L does her role as a maid of
honor quite well.

“Sam,” Grant’s mom responds.

“And Walter,” Grant’s dad adds.

“Come on in, guys,” L opens the door for
them.

Sam and Walter gasp at the same time when
they set eyes on me.

“Rip, you’re ravishing,” Dad compliments me.
“I bet Grant will cry the moment he sees you.”

We laugh at his remark.

“He’s right, Rip. I’m floored by how stunning
you are. I can’t wait to see Grant’s reaction,” Mom dreamily
says.

“Thank you all so much for giving me a boost
before I walk down the aisle. I need it badly,” I let out a deep
breath that I don’t realize I’m holding.

And yet another knock surprise us.

I look at L, and she looks at me. “Who is
it?” We both ask.

No answer.

L walks to the door and asks again. When no
one answers, she opens the door slightly and closes it the moment
she sees who’s on the other side.

“Go away, Grant. You know it’s bad luck to
see the bride before the ceremony.” She protects the door like her
life depends on it.

“Rip doesn’t believe in luck and so do I,
Lols. So please, just a sneak peek,” Grant begs.

I smile at Lola and walk to the door. I want
to open it, but I don’t.

“Hey, love.”

“Rip, let me see you before the wedding
starts. Please.”

I laugh at his insistence. “You’re right, I
don’t believe in luck, but I do believe in surprises. You always
have something for me. I don’t. This is the rare occasion that I
can surprise you. Well, the second, after your 20th birthday.” I
smile as I reminisce that day. His reaction was epic, and I want to
see it again. “But I’ll let you hold my hand. Is that a deal?”

He doesn’t respond right away. When he does,
he says, “Okay, babe. Deal.”

He can’t hide the excitement in his voice
because this is also a second time for us—second time that he will
be able to hold my hand, after his proposal to me.

I open the door a little bit, just enough for
our hands to hold.

He intertwines his fingers with mine and
says, “I bet that you’re beautiful, baby.”

“You bet? Why do you say?” I flirt with him.
Geez, I’m flirting with my groom
.

“Because your hand is beautiful, and I know
that all of you are just like your hand,” he pauses. “I think even
better.”

I giggle. “I miss you, love. I can’t wait to
see you,” I tell him honestly.

“Then I’ll better go.”

After the word
go
, he’s gone.

Our bodies quake with laughter.

I really do miss him.

“Well, we better go as well,” Walter
announces.

They all kiss and hug me before going.

Then I’m alone.

I glance once again in the mirror and fight
the tears that are threatening to fall.

Before I walk down the aisle, I pray.

“Thank You, Father, for giving me this
opportunity to unite with the man whom I love. Who, in return,
never fails to make me feel loved. Thank You for Grant’s life.
Thank You for all the provisions You have given us to make this
ceremony possible. Thank You for our families who are here to
witness our holy union. Thank You for everything, Father. This is
more of Your day than ours. This I pray in Jesus’ name, amen.”

Someone knocks just as I say
amen
.

“It’s time,” one of the event organizers
proclaims.

I take a deep breath before opening the
door.

I see that Grant is already on his post,
fidgeting. I observe him for a while and indulge in his beauty. I
still can’t believe that someone like him will love someone like
me. His every feature is like photoshopped. So perfect.

And I don’t want to make him wait anymore so
I bounce from foot to foot as I prepare to walk—no, run—my way to
my groom.

Grant

I see Rhy running towards her post, and I
can’t help but laugh . . . and be stunned, amazed, floored by the
running bride.
My bride.
To say that she is a beautiful
bride is the genuine understatement of the year. Is she really
marrying me?

“You might want to close your mouth, dude.”
Cale, my best man, pokes me.

“Thanks for the reminder, man,” I retort.

As the entourage makes their way, I make a
silent prayer. “Thank You, Lord, for Rip. Thank You for this day.
Thank You for the gift of companionship that I am about to have.
Thank You . . . for everything.”