“Alright. I’m done with my shopping,” Rocky said while pushing her cart inside a supermarket.

“Is that it?” Rolly inspected the big bottles of rubbing alcohol and sanitizer on the cart. “Hey, hold on.” He kneeled and tied Rocky’s shoelaces. It put a smile on her face.

Rolly noticed Rocky bobbing her head. “Love, what are you listening to?”

“Beat It,” Rocky replied while tapping her foot to the music.

“Earbuds, please,” Rolly pleaded. “Michael Jackson is my jam.”

She giggled and gave him her extra pair.

“Don’t be a macho man. You want to be tough, better do what you can—” Rolly sang and began putting his best Michael Jackson moves.

“Stop that. People are staring.” Rocky looked around.

Rolly winked and continued to dance, beckoning Rocky. Shortly after, she joined in the fun. They danced without a care in the world. From crotch grab, side slide, and circle slide to kick and spin, toe stand, and the moonwalk, they did them all. The duo ended their routine with Billie Jean as the crowd clapped and cheered.

“Oh, my gosh.” Rocky bowed her head in embarrassment. She pushed the cart to the nearest counter. “Let’s go.”

“We should do this more often,” Rolly suggested.

“No!” She shook her head.

“Yes!” He bobbed his head.

“Okay, okay. But not in a supermarket.”

“What? Why not? The crowd loves us.”

At the counter, the cashier squinted her eyes.

“Hey, don’t forget to buy a birthday cake for Jazzy,” Rolly reminded.

Rocky gasped. “I totally forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me, Rolly.”

The cashier and her bagger looked at each other.

“Ma’am, that would be P1,234,” the cashier said, staring at Rocky.

Rocky handed the cashier the payment. “Excuse me. Can I ask for some assistance? These are quite heavy.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The bagger nodded.

“Sorry, pal.” Rolly massaged his arms. “I cannot help, too tired from all the dancing.”

The bagger scratched his head.

“Please, ignore him,” Rocky said. “Anyway, thank you for helping me.”

They exited the supermarket and proceeded to her car.

#

Ralph gazed at Jazzy shadowboxing in front of the mirror. Look at you. Jasmine Lopez, 13 years of age, is full of spunk. Go, get them, tiger. RULF!

“Uh-huh. Do you like what you see, Ralph?” Jazzy asked. “Daddy taught me all these moves.” She then stopped her routine and wrapped her arms around herself. Tears trickled down her face. “Oh, Daddy. I still miss you so much.”

Ralph nodded. Your father, Benjamin Lopez, 45, neurologist, was reportedly killed in a motorcycle accident six months ago.

Jazzy clenched her fists and began throwing jabs at great speed.

That’s good, Jazzy. You’ll need that when the time comes. Keep it up.

She finished her routine with a spinning back kick. “Yah! Take that!”

Whoa! What a move. I hope you teach me that someday. Ralph glanced at his short legs. Or maybe not.

“I’m done.” Jazzy rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle of water.