Breakfast

Marco found himself waking up again. His body felt sore and weak, his throat parched.

'I must have fallen asleep.'

His hands rubbed against his eyelids and then the events of last night came to his mind. He jolted upright and nearly fainted from the abrupt dizziness he got. He shut his eyes to fight against it.

'Was that a dream?' he cried in his heart in despair as he forced his eyes to open. Another scene he thought he'd only ever see again in his memories came to his view. A small dingy room of pre-fabricated walls with a woven bamboo matt under him with a hard pillow and a thin sheet covering his small body.

'Wait... small?'

Marco scrambled ungainly and saw small feet, short legs, tiny hands, and a little torso. He patted his limbs followed by his face. He immediately looked around again and saw a small cabinet with a calendar stuck to the wall reading November 2122. Marco took a sharp breath, then saw a tiny mirror sitting on top of the cabinet and immediately raced to it.

'What!?' Marco saw, for the fourth time a sight he thought would only exist in memories. He was a child again when he saw the image in the mirror blink when he blinked. The date of the calendar further supported this as was the room he woke up in. He, inexplicably concluded that he was currently five years of age at his old house living with his parents.

His parents...

Once more Marco scrambled again and stood up. The sheets fell from his body showing how thin he was and his brown skin felt sticky from dried sweat. No sooner than him taking his first step did his body buckle and his knees hit the hard floor. Another spell of dizziness passed through him with the subsequent shocks being of no help to his recovery.

A minute passed and his heart was still beating rapidly, but he could stand. The body felt unwieldy carrying his old mind. The muscle memories of years of movement vanishing leaving Marco scrabbling to stay upright. He headed straight for the door who only had a thin curtain for his privacy.

'Where are they?' His mind raced and panicked, thinking that everything was some divine cosmic joke where he would find his parents gone. Gone as quickly as a fleeting breeze from a passing bird.

His steps were heavy and his breathing ragged, remembering his way around his old domicile. There should be three bedrooms at the end of a hallway with his parents' bedroom in between his and an empty guest room where they are currently using as storage. Not that there was anything to store. He first checked at his parents' bedroom and found no one but an old plastic wardrobe next to stacks of boxes. There was a rolled bamboo matt standing at the side of the window and a low table with papers and office supplies on top of it.

Marco gave a passing look at the other room and headed immediately to the living area connected to the hallway. The living room had a rattan couch with some cushions and a white blanket thrown on it. In the middle of the room was a wide coffee table that doubled as their dining table as well and on one side was a holo-screen where images are being played with the sound muted next to a wide window showing the pavement corridor outside of their apartment. Three more doorways are connected to the living area; a bathroom, a kitchenette and a short corridor leading to the front door.

He found his father, Ernesto, sitting on the couch of the living room holding his holo-tablet reading while he saw his mother, Dolores, inside of the kitchen busying herself. His father turned to the sound of his steps and found his son looking at him with wide eyes at the doorways. His wife immediately turned around as well.

Ernesto stood up quickly and walked to his son to pick him up. Marco automatically found himself putting his arms and legs around his father and burying his face at the crook of his neck. There was that warm hand again rubbing his back and the other holding his legs.

"Are you okay now son?" Marco heard his father whisper to him as he was rocked back and forth.

"Hmm okay," he said as he buried his face further and his arms tighter.

"That's good," his father continued rocking him when he felt a kiss at his shoulder where his mother could reach. His father was 5'11 while his mother was around 5'5. She then went back to the kitchen saying something about getting the food ready.

It felt good to Marco, felt good to be taken care of by people who actually gave a damn and not just because they were paid. He then heard his father breath suddenly go short. His father stopped moving as his hand was on his own chest trying to alleviate the sudden pain.

Marco looked at his dad, his face falling. He remembered now that his father had Mitral Valve Prolapse a congenital heart disease, and he often suffered its symptoms. Ernesto put his son down and tried to breathe through his nose better. Marco stayed at his side looking up as his father suffers. He turned his head when his mother came out of the kitchen with pandesal a soft wholegrain bread, eggs, longganisa sweet sausages, and coffee.

She put her tray down and went to comfort her husband. Worry is plainly visible in her eyes until her husband calmed himself and went to look at their son who was tightly holding onto his father's trousers.

"Does your chest still hurt Papa?" Marco asked while his father smiled looking at his grim-faced son.

"Not anymore son," he answered as he sits down to take Marco on his lap to eat their breakfast. Dolores sits on the other side and gestures quietly towards the holo-screen and sound blares again.

"Are you feeling better Coco?" another jolt went through Marco's spine at the familiar nickname given by his parents. He nodded numbly looking at his mother with adoration. Dolores found his son too adorable today, hugging his father as soon as he saw him and being all clingy. She leaned over the table and gave him a kiss on the cheek to which he returned a bright smile. Dolores laughed.

The morning proceeded as the family of three ate their breakfast calmly with cheer. Marco's mind, however, was churning even in the midst of his glee. Wondering again how this could possibly be real. He looked at the holo-screen next to the man broadcasting the news to where the current date was; November 2122. Next, he asked for his father's holo-tablet and Ernesto distractedly gave it to him as he continued watching the news. Marco surfed the internet and everything seemed to corroborate the exact thing.

'I went back 35 years in the past,' he couldn't wrap his mind around this. Then he smelled sweet soft bread and pork. He looked at his smiling mother whose hands are feeding him. "Say ahh Coco," reflexively he opened his mouth and tasted the rehydrated food. He had always hated rehydrated food and as he climbed to his fame only ate fresh and organic meals but at this moment they tasted completely delicious.

He let his eyes wander as he continued to chew. He saw the old furniture inside his house and also noticed how old the clothes were on his parents. Her mother's shirt was a thin faded blue and his father pants have patches on them. He started frowning with his cheeks cutely full of food.

The Madrigals were a below average family. His parents are both public servants where his father is working in the City hall as a clerk and his mother is teaching in the public school he was going to but in the high school department. They get paid enough credits to rent a small apartment but most of their money gets used for his father's medicine and they could only buy instant, powdered or dehydrated food. Rarely do they have disposable income.

Once again he felt disgusted with himself when he remembered how in his past life during his childhood and adolescent years he disdained his family with how poor they are and often threw tantrums when he couldn't get new games and nice clothes to compare with his friends. He was reminded of how indifferent he was when his parents manage to buy him those new shoes that every kid in his class had where he later learned they had to borrow money for it and his dad had to miss his pills.

'Marco you are a worthless excuse for a son,' he told himself as he saw his mother put another mouthful of breakfast to his mouth and his father rubbed his head. 'I wish I could make their lives better,' he thought grouchily still chewing his food and holding the holo-tablet when suddenly he stilled.

'I can, can't I?' the thought emerge to his mind.

Slowly, unbeknownst to the two elders happily enjoying their breakfast, Marco's mind, the one that let him claw to stand at the pinnacle of fame and power, was moving.