Sneak Peak: Old Clothes and Stale Coffee

Ngayon naman ay alamin natin kung paano nagkakilala sina Tito Eric at ang kanyang habibi na si Dr. Aahmes Abdel. Sabi nila, opposites attract, at magandang halimbawa nito ang dalawang genious na ito. 

====================

.

Old clothes and stale coffee.

That was my first impression of him. That was what he smelled of.

There I was, stark hopping mad with anticipation, ready to meet this brilliant mind that is well known through out the international scientific community for his advanced and unparalleled research concerning the omega gene.

Then I see this... uncouth man in front of me, sipping tepid coffee from a chipped cup in his pajamas.

“Sino `to?” he asked the lab assistant who ushered me inside the maze-like laboratory.

“Sir, this is Dr. Aahmes Abdel!” the assistant said excitedly, “In the flesh!”

He looked back at me from head to toe and smiled. Then he turned to his assistant with the same fake smile stuck in his face.

“Sino `yun?”

“Sir, s’ya `yung sikat na scientist na nag re-research din tungkol sa omega gene! Kilalang-kilala s’ya sa buong mundo dahil sa mga research n’ya tungkol sa mga omegas, particularly about their mental state and behavioral patterns! Bali-balita rin po na s’ya ang bagong head ng Omega Research team ng Universal Labs sa United Arab Countries of the Middle East ngayon!”

How rude.

I don’t think they know that I understand a bit of tagalog. But then again, the fact that they are talking in their native tongue while a foreigner is in their midst is proof enough that these people know nothing of basic etiquette.

“Eh, ba’t `di ko s’ya kilala?” he asked again. “At kung head s’ya ng UACME branch, anong ginagawa n’yan dito?”

“Sir...” the assistant looked back at me and smiled. It looked strained. “Dr. Abdel has never been in the spotlight before,” he explained, “he’s part of Egyptian royalty, and no one has ever seen him in person, not even in pictures, only his journals are released publicly in the internet...”

“Kung ganon, pano n’yo nasigurado na s’ya nga `yan?”

He took another sip of his coffee.

“Ugh...” the assistant now looks desperate. “Dr. Abdel, perhaps you could introduce yourself to the `kind’ and `hospitable’ professor?” he said the two adjectives with emphasis.

I stepped forward, looked him straight in the eye and gave him my best professional smile.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Eric Antonio. I am Dr. Aahmes Abdel. I am 22 years of age and have a PhD in Microbiology, Neurophysiology, Neurology, and Psychiatry. I have come here specifically to meet you and would like to study under your tutelage.”

He stared at me and blinked, unimpressed, then he looked at his assistant sideways.

“Bakit s’ya nakangiwi?” he mumbled. “Anyway, Dr. Abdel,” he said, looking back at me, “I think you got a lot of things mixed up. First of all, I am not a morning person, so I apologize for not being as `hospitable’ as my soon to be ex-assistant assumes me to be,” said assistant turned pale. “Second, I am not a `doctor’, merely a researcher, or a professor, if you prefer to call me that. Third, final, and most important of all,” he continued. “I do not accept students.” He gave me a quick smile, his bristled chin coming close to mine, since he was about five centimeters taller than me. “Now, Dr. Abdel, if indeed, that is your name, please kindly leave my laboratory before I finish my coffee.”

.

“Please excuse Sir Eric, he just woke up, and it usually takes a while for him to be civil after a nap,” said the assistant. “If he even sleeps at all,” he added in an undertone as we made our way towards the elevator shaft. It was already 1 in the afternoon. “You simply came at a bad time, he’s actually been working on something for some weeks now...”

“He stinks.” I said straight out. “He smells of old clothes and stale coffee. I believe he is what people call a `slob’?”

The assistant looked at me, surprised, then gave a soft chuckle.

“You’ll get used to it in time, you see, the professor lives alone and barely goes home. He’s always been so busy that he hardly has time to look after himself...”

“You seem to think that I would stay here for a while?” I asked the man who smiled fondly as he criticized his superior.

“Ah, yes, you see, he didn’t kick you out of the room himself. That means that you might just have a chance to get on his good side. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Well... you know how it is with people and their coffee...” again he chuckles. “Word of advice, since I’m your fan,” he added, “he’s not really into PhD’s and titles, heck, more than half of his staff here have more diplomas than him. You see, he graduated from a science high school at age 8 and got a master’s degree from MIT at age 13 for Microbiology and Secondary Gender study. He decided then that he didn’t want to return to school after that,” he went on.

“Also, he doesn’t really like to talk in English. I mean, he can speak the language, but he’s too lazy to bother, so I guess that’s why he wasn’t so thrilled to talk to you. He’s only 26, and he’s already one of the top researchers around the world, studying the secondary genders.”

“Is that so?” I said when he finished, though I already knew most of it.

“And also, he’s not very fond of alphas,” he finally concluded.

“He thought I was an alpha?”

The assistant looked at me with surprise once more.

“I-I beg your pardon, I just assumed that you were...”

“Do you think perhaps he thought the same?”

“W-well... I guess... you do look quite intimidating,” he looked up at me. “with all those credentials, one would think that you are an outstanding alpha... so... are you a beta?”

“I am not,” I replied before going back into the maze of halls.

“Where are you going?” the assistant called after me, but I was already turning a corner.

The place was a glass labyrinth. A whole floor dedicated to research, full of enclosed, air-tight work stations for individual experimentation, each equipped with state of the art equipment.

I took 2 left turns and three rights to get back to the pantry in the middle where we left Professor Antonio, and saw him slumped on a long sofa with a book covering his face, his hand still holding the half full cup of tepid coffee on the table.

“Ahem.”

I tried to call his attention.

“A-he-hem,” I repeated, “Professor Antonio. Mukhang hindi po tayo maayos nakaintindi.”

That seemed to do the trick as he took the book off his face and frowned at me.

“Ako po si Aahmes Abdel, isang omega, mahal ko po ang mga gawa mo. Mahal ko po ang kagalingan mo sa larangan ng science and medicine. Nagpunta po ako dito dahil mahal na mahal ko kayo.”

He stared at me with his jaw hanging.

I believe I said it right... how I put his work in high regard? I had my filipino friend translate that properly for me.

“Gusto ko po mag-aral sa ilalim mo, kung maaari, gusto’ng gusto ko pong mapailalim sa iyo.”

He’s still not moving.

“Professor?”

“Pfft!”

Now, he starts laughing, a low chuckle that quickly turned into roaring laughter, which was joined in by a couple more. I turned around and saw Mr. Assistant and a young woman laughing with him.

“Aba, marunong ka palang magtagalog, Dr. Abdel?” asked the assistant, “Dapat sinabi n’yo agad kanina...”

“Nako, hayaan n’yo na lang s'ya mag-inggles!” Prof. Antonio piped in, “at baka mamatay ako kakatawa tuwing nagsasalita s’ya!” he laughed again, “to-to-o-ba-na-ma-hal-mo-a-ko-dok-a-mes?” he mocked me, “a-lam-mo-ba-ang-pi-nag-sa-sa-sa-bi-mo?”

“Opo, alam ko ang sinasabi ko,” I replied, “mahal na mahal kita.”

That seemed to silent him.

“Define `mahal’?” he asked as he sat straight on the couch with a smirk on his face.

“Mahal – to hold someone in high regard.”

“Tama nga naman,” said the assistant from behind.

“`Wag kang makisingit dito, Pedro,” the professor called out, then looked back at me. “At sinasabi mo’ng mahal mo ako?”

“Of course,” I replied. “You are like an idol to me, I put you on a high pedestal and treat you as a hero po. That is how high I regard you po and your contribution to the scientific community. Ganyan kita kamahal.”

And again, he laughs at me.

He is starting to irritate me.

“Do you have autism? Hindi ka lang parang robot magsalita, pati itsura mo walang kaemo-emosyon."

“And if I do, dahilan po ba iyon para hindi mo po ako tanggapin?”

“H-hindi naman...” he held back another peel of laughter.

“Kung ganon tinatanggap mo na po ako.”

“Wala pa ako’ng sinasabi...”

“Wala `pa’, meaning, balak mo in the future?”

That made him shut up. It seems I have outwitted him.

“Haay...” he sighed in resignation, “Sige, kung mapilit ka, bahala ka’ng gawin kung anong gusto mo, kahit tingin ko, wala ka namang matututunan sa `kin.” he started to sip his coffee again. “Basta’t `wag ka lang makiki-elam sa mga ginagawa ko.”

“Kung ganoon, tinatanggap mo na ako?” 

Finally! I gave him my most radient smile.

He seems to flinch. 

“`Wag po kayo mag-alala po, hindi po kayo magsisisi, alam ko po balang araw matututunan n’yo rin na mahalin ako.”

He spits the coffee.

How disgusting.

Good thing it didn’t stain my white coat and slacks, at well as my white designer shoes from Paris.

“Maayos lang ba kayo po, propesor?” I asked him. “`Wag po kayo mag-alala, basta nasa tabi n’yo lang ako palagi, napaka saya ko na po.”

The laughter seemed to multiply as I look around and saw more researchers surrounding us.

“Sir, sagutin n’yo na!” said the  girl with assistant Pedro.

“Oo nga, sir, eto na ang prinsipe n’yo, mukhang naghihintay sa labas ang puti n'yang kabayo!” said another assistant.

“If you mean my ferrari, it is color black.”

They start to laugh again.

“Sige, sinasagot na kita!” Prof. Antonio said with a grin. He stood up, walked up to me, and placed a hand, one inch on top of my left shoulder where he kept it hovering. “Mula ngayon, ikaw na ang Habibi ko!”

“Why Habibi?” I asked him, frowning. I can tell that he was making fun of me again.

“Hindi ba’t sabi mo mahal mo `ko?” he grinned, “And since ikaw ang kauna-unahan, at malamang, ang nag-iisang taong magsasabi n’yan sa `kin, ay pumapayag na ako’ng maging s’yota mo.”

S’yota? What does that word mean? Perhaps, a slang for teacher?

“Thank you, Prof. Antonio, I assure you po, you will not regret this.”

“And since sinabi mo rin na gusto mong lagi ako’ng makatabi,” he continued with a big grin on his face, “ay ikaw na ang gagawin ko’ng personal assistant. Kailangan mo’ng sumunod sa `kin 24/7 at gawin ang lahat ng iuutos ko. Mula ngayong oras na ito.”

The room fell silent.

The laughter and snide remarks all came to a halt as he kept his hand floating an inch above my shoulder.

“I accept your challenge.” I replied.

This is probably a test, a right of passage before he decides to take me in as his protégé.

“Tumagal kaya s’ya?” I heard someone whisper.

“`Di ba, naospital ang huling personal assistant si Sir dahil sa stress at pagod?”

”At nag-mental breakdown naman ang nauna doon dahil sa mga demands n’ya...”

”At yung isa, hindi na nagpakita matapos n’ya utusan ng ilang ulit pamunta kung saan-saan!”

”Oy, break time na ba? Ba’t ang daming bubuyog na bubulong-bulong sa paligod?!” Prof. Antonio told the crowd who quickly dispersed.

“Ano, handa ka na ba’ng sumunod, Habibi?”

“Opo. Ano po ang unang gagawin natin? Saan ang laboratoryo?”

“Bigyan muna kita ng ground rules, ha?” he stifled another laugh, “Una, `wag mo na ko po-in at nakakapika. Mas maganda, `wag ka na rin mag-tagalog at ako ang nahihirapan sa `yo.”

“Affirmative.”

“Pangalawa, bilang personal assistant, ikaw ang magiging secretarya ko, slash-runner, slash-alalay, slash-utusan, slash-buhusan ng init ng ulo, slash-tagatimpla ng kape..."

“On it.”

I went to the pantry section and placed some ground coffee in a clean mug.

“Oy, sandali, alam mo ba ang timpla ko?”

“Two teaspoons full of liberica, one of arabica, and a dash of lilac sugar.”

“Pano mo nalaman?”

“I have a keen sense of smell.”

“Ganon ba?”

“Yes. It can be very useful in my line of work since...”

I suddenly stiffen as a pungent aroma filled the air.

“Ugh... did you just... pass gas?”

“`Pag nahulaan mo kinain ko kagabi, bibigyan kita ng bonus points.”

”Something rich in sulfur... broccoli?”

It was fun seeing the grin in his face disappear.

“Woah, seryoso nga ang ilong mo!” he seemed to see me in a new light now. “Dahil d’yan, bibigyan kita ng bonus.”

He took a post it from his pocket and wrote something on it, then, he stuck it on my forehead.

It seems to be a phone number.

“Karinderia `yan ni Aling Tinay. Gusto ko ng kare-kare.”

“Huh? What about the bonus you just told me?”

“Umorder ka na rin ng gusto mo,” he replied. “Pasalamat ka ililibre kita.”

He then took the cup of coffee I just made and patted the air on top of my shoulder.

Well, I guess a lot of people have a thing about touching others.

“Sige, tawagan mo na `yan at gutom na `ko. Masarap ang Nilaga nila, try mo.”

“Where are you going?”

“May tinatapos pa akong reaction...”

“Oh, an experiment? May I observe your procedures?”

“Hintayin mo ang delivery sa lobby at bawal silang umakyat dito.”

”Huh?”

”Pedro!”

”Sir?” assistant Pedro just came out of thin air.

“Pakisamahan `tong Habibi ko para masanay sa pasikot-sikot sa trabaho.”

”Yes, sir!”

”Wait a minute, Prof. Antonio, I would prefer to watch you conduct an experiment!”

“Matapos ko’ng kumain,” he replied, “sa ngayon, gutom ako, pa'no `ko makakapag-isip nang diretso?”

“But...”

“Sige na, Pedro, go. Shoo! Shoo! Isama mo na si Habibi!”

“I am not your Habibi!”

He looked at me and grinned.

”Hindi ba’t ilang beses mo’ng sinabi na mahal na mahal mo `ko? Sabi mo, gusto mo’ng mahalin din kita, kaya mula ngayon ay ikaw na ang Habibi ko,” again, he placed his right hand an inch above my shoulder. ”Gusto ko’ng makita kung paano mo `ko paiibigin sa `yo.”

I took hold of his hand and pressed it down on my shoulder. He looked surprised and tried to pull it away, but I held on to it tightly, and looked him straight in the eye as if making a vow.

“Then I promise, I will make you want me to stay.”

We stared at each other, his light brown eyes wide open, an eyebrow slightly arched, while I gave him the most intimidating gaze I could muster.

“Mwa-ha-ha-ha!” he grabbed my shoulder tightly. “I will look forward to that then, Habibi,” he snorted as I frowned at him some more.

“Don’t call me Habibi.”

====================