Ang Pangit Mo
This was the first thing Mom said to me when we saw each other again at the O'Hare Airport. The air was cool and it smelled like Chicago.
"Bakit ka naman nagpakalbo mahal??? Ang pangit mo na tuloy."
She grabbed my stroller hastily and ran outside, waving to an SUV that soon drove away when a parking attendant waved at it.
"Yan tuloy, ang bagal mo, pinaalis si Tito Gene mo."
We waited by the road for Tito Gene's car to go around and come back to us, upon which we promptly loaded my stuff, and exchanged pleasantries. With the two of them up front, me sitting by myself at the backseat, it felt like a childhood family trip. Except I wasn't a kid anymore.
"So, Adrian, where you want to eat?"
"Haynaku, hon, bata pa lang siya alam ko na ang gusto niya. You want pizza, diba anak?"
I'm not used to them calling each other 'hon'. Also, I don't appreciate being coddled like this. Although some pizza sounded nice at this point.
"Sayang lang talaga ang buhok niya, no, 'hon? Haynaku Adrian kailangan mong mag-hat pag kinakausap mo ako, nakaasar tignan ang pagkakalbo mo! O kaya I'll buy you a wig!"
"Are you serious, Mom?"
"Oo, ganun kita ka-love. I'll buy you a wig."
"Hon, he's not a kid anymore. Pabayaan mo na siya kung yan ang gusto niyang buhok. Right Adrian?"
Mom sulks. "Alam naman niya na Mommy hates it, e ginagawa pa rin niya. Tulad lang siya ng bunso niyang kapatid."
Even with Mom's new GPS, it took us some time to find the pizzeria they wanted. At this point, I didn't care what we ate. Finally we settled on a pizzeria along Milwaukee Ave. Pizza D'Oro served free bread baskets while we waited for our Meatlover's Pizza, which Mom ordered. She also ordered another bread basket for us to take out.
We dropped by Mom and Tito Gene's Office to close shop, then Tito Gene dropped us off at Mom's apartment. Mom's apartment was small but comfy enough. The floor was carpeted and the kitchen was tiny and two persons couldn't fit. Against Mom's personality, it was messy, and there were unwashed dishes.
She showed me my room, which was half-full of boxes. Or half-empty? All the books and clothes I left when I left two years ago were inside the wardrobe. I was going to collapse into the bed, but noticed that it was unstable, with loose screws.
"Oh well, I guess that means matutulog ka sa tabi ko tonight," she said.
If I was maybe in grade school, this sort of thing wouldn't be so awkward.
"So, anak. Tell me about your diploma."
I was just falling asleep on Mom's bed when she started talking to me. Her room was dark, save for her nightlight which was kinda of like a lava lamp, except it had jewel-colored beads swirling around it instead. They made clinky sounds when they touched the glass.
"...You remember last year, Mom? I was working in a call center. And I was just sick and tired of work. Then one day Tito Angel called me up and offered to fund the rest of my college. But when I went to UP, it was too late to enroll for that sem. And I really wanted to get out of that call center as soon as possible. So he suggested I study in Cebu instead. At IAFT."
"Anak naman..."
"You weren't here last year, you wouldn't understand how I felt... So I applied at IAFT, but I had to get an honorable dismissal from UP."
"Anak why you would do that?"
"I was sick and tired of everything. Hindi kami binigyan ng baon ni Dad. Hindi mo kami binibigyan ng baon. I was depressed. I wanted to go to Cebu."
"Why didn't you go back to Chicago na lang?"
"I ASKED YOU TO TAKE ME HERE! E hindi mo ako pinapunta jan, wala kang pera."
"E bakit naman umuwi ka pa kasing Manila e..."
"Kasi sabi mo mababayaran mo utang mo sakin... Akala ko magagawa ko na sa wakas thesis ko... E anong magagawa mo? Wala."
Then a silence saved only by the clinky jewel-colored beads.
"I'm sorry, anak..."
"It's okay, Mom."
"I knew I wasn't the perfect Mom for you. I had a lots of debts. I'm trying, anak."
Then, a sob. Silent, but you could see it, trailing across the room, dancing sadly with the clinky jewel-colored beads.
"I feel so bad. My marriage was a failure, and di ko kayo naasikasuhan while you were growing up."
I hug her, and kiss her, awkwardly, on her cheek. "It's okay, Mom. It's all in the past. Tulog na tayo."
She embraces me. "Nung bata kayo, hindi kayo makagawa ng kung ano kung wala ako. Sobrang dependent kayo sakin."
"We grew up, Mom." And, in my heart, I whisper, "Please grow up too."
"Bakit ka naman nagpakalbo mahal??? Ang pangit mo na tuloy."
She grabbed my stroller hastily and ran outside, waving to an SUV that soon drove away when a parking attendant waved at it.
"Yan tuloy, ang bagal mo, pinaalis si Tito Gene mo."
We waited by the road for Tito Gene's car to go around and come back to us, upon which we promptly loaded my stuff, and exchanged pleasantries. With the two of them up front, me sitting by myself at the backseat, it felt like a childhood family trip. Except I wasn't a kid anymore.
"So, Adrian, where you want to eat?"
"Haynaku, hon, bata pa lang siya alam ko na ang gusto niya. You want pizza, diba anak?"
I'm not used to them calling each other 'hon'. Also, I don't appreciate being coddled like this. Although some pizza sounded nice at this point.
"Sayang lang talaga ang buhok niya, no, 'hon? Haynaku Adrian kailangan mong mag-hat pag kinakausap mo ako, nakaasar tignan ang pagkakalbo mo! O kaya I'll buy you a wig!"
"Are you serious, Mom?"
"Oo, ganun kita ka-love. I'll buy you a wig."
"Hon, he's not a kid anymore. Pabayaan mo na siya kung yan ang gusto niyang buhok. Right Adrian?"
Mom sulks. "Alam naman niya na Mommy hates it, e ginagawa pa rin niya. Tulad lang siya ng bunso niyang kapatid."
Even with Mom's new GPS, it took us some time to find the pizzeria they wanted. At this point, I didn't care what we ate. Finally we settled on a pizzeria along Milwaukee Ave. Pizza D'Oro served free bread baskets while we waited for our Meatlover's Pizza, which Mom ordered. She also ordered another bread basket for us to take out.
We dropped by Mom and Tito Gene's Office to close shop, then Tito Gene dropped us off at Mom's apartment. Mom's apartment was small but comfy enough. The floor was carpeted and the kitchen was tiny and two persons couldn't fit. Against Mom's personality, it was messy, and there were unwashed dishes.
She showed me my room, which was half-full of boxes. Or half-empty? All the books and clothes I left when I left two years ago were inside the wardrobe. I was going to collapse into the bed, but noticed that it was unstable, with loose screws.
"Oh well, I guess that means matutulog ka sa tabi ko tonight," she said.
If I was maybe in grade school, this sort of thing wouldn't be so awkward.
"So, anak. Tell me about your diploma."
I was just falling asleep on Mom's bed when she started talking to me. Her room was dark, save for her nightlight which was kinda of like a lava lamp, except it had jewel-colored beads swirling around it instead. They made clinky sounds when they touched the glass.
"...You remember last year, Mom? I was working in a call center. And I was just sick and tired of work. Then one day Tito Angel called me up and offered to fund the rest of my college. But when I went to UP, it was too late to enroll for that sem. And I really wanted to get out of that call center as soon as possible. So he suggested I study in Cebu instead. At IAFT."
"Anak naman..."
"You weren't here last year, you wouldn't understand how I felt... So I applied at IAFT, but I had to get an honorable dismissal from UP."
"Anak why you would do that?"
"I was sick and tired of everything. Hindi kami binigyan ng baon ni Dad. Hindi mo kami binibigyan ng baon. I was depressed. I wanted to go to Cebu."
"Why didn't you go back to Chicago na lang?"
"I ASKED YOU TO TAKE ME HERE! E hindi mo ako pinapunta jan, wala kang pera."
"E bakit naman umuwi ka pa kasing Manila e..."
"Kasi sabi mo mababayaran mo utang mo sakin... Akala ko magagawa ko na sa wakas thesis ko... E anong magagawa mo? Wala."
Then a silence saved only by the clinky jewel-colored beads.
"I'm sorry, anak..."
"It's okay, Mom."
"I knew I wasn't the perfect Mom for you. I had a lots of debts. I'm trying, anak."
Then, a sob. Silent, but you could see it, trailing across the room, dancing sadly with the clinky jewel-colored beads.
"I feel so bad. My marriage was a failure, and di ko kayo naasikasuhan while you were growing up."
I hug her, and kiss her, awkwardly, on her cheek. "It's okay, Mom. It's all in the past. Tulog na tayo."
She embraces me. "Nung bata kayo, hindi kayo makagawa ng kung ano kung wala ako. Sobrang dependent kayo sakin."
"We grew up, Mom." And, in my heart, I whisper, "Please grow up too."