TBBM LXIV. Back to the Real Me

"And, you always had someone to protect you each time you cried..."

"And, you always had someone to protect you each time you cried..."

"And, you always had someone to protect you each time you cried..."

My mind kept reeling on Angie's line earlier this morning. To me, it felt like some ignored truths that finally hit home.

It was a little after two in the afternoon. After parting ways with the new friends I made, I found myself looking out into the closed window of the bus on my way home, scanning blindly the familiar landmarks that led me home.

I felt so much calmer than yesterday. I didn't feel the surge of rebellion anymore---or maybe, at least not as wildly as I did. Finally, I could breathe, I could breathe without feeling all empty inside. I never thought skipping school would be this therapeutic.

But what Angie said stuck with me as I travelled back home: while I always complained about being unlucky for having this birthmark and this body, I failed to notice how I was lucky for having James---and now, Red---by my side every time I needed help. I failed to notice how other people were probably not-as-lucky.

Dear Saint,

Please don't hate me so much for running away from school. I thank you for opening my eyes to these things I hadn't been paying attention to. The PAC Girls, they weren't too bad of a company, after all.

+++

I turned my phone back on to inform my mother that I was on my way home. I was pretty sure that the Recollection was over and that my classmates were on their way home, too.

After sending my mother a message, I decided to run through the unread messages from Betty, Cliffy and Roma. Reading their texts, I could confirm that they were truly headed home. I told them I was okay and that something just came up at home being the reason why I could not attend the session. As I replied to Roma, I felt as though nothing had changed. I didn't even want to ask her how it happened with James. I was about at peace.

I thought about opening James' messages. He had sent me the most messages than anyone ever did in the last twenty-four hours. I didn't want him to keep worrying about me but also, I didn't think I was ready for him yet.

As I lurked around in my corner thinking about James, my phone buzzed. Red was calling me. I didn't really like to talk to anyone just yet but, he must be worried, too.

"Hmmmm?" I hummed.

"Just 'hmmm'?" he said after a few seconds. "That's it?"

"Uhmmmm," I replied.

"Are you feeling much better now?" his voice was oddly gentle.

"Mmmm."

"Hicks," he called, trying to sound funny. "Come back to school already. It gets boring without you here. Well, I got other girls trying to take my attention but, sincerely, no one really comes close to how I'm entertained by you."

"If you keep making fun of me like that, I'll hung up the phone," I returned, dismissive. I couldn't tell why my mood was sour. It must be my hormones.

"Whoah! That's fierce!" he laughed. "You're mean to me again. Welcome back, Hickey!---Oh!"

He paused. I imagined my classmates heard him call my name and they were probably looking at him. He had the tendency to be really funny sometimes. I could imagine him.

"Somebody here kept asking me about you. I---"

"I missed you, Boasty," I cut him. "I'm sorry if I were mean and not appreciative of you. I-I'll see you. Tomorrow."

"You what?" he sounded really pleased and at the same time surprised. "You-you said you missed me?"

"I'm hanging up now. Get home safely."

I didn't mean to say that I missed him. It just came out of my mouth. I was surprised I said it, too. But oddly, I found myself smiling quietly as I alighted the bus and walked home.

I decided to drop by our food stall to help my mother for a bit. It was almost four in the afternoon. I was certain she'd be busy with all the customers trying to grab a quick meal before going home.

"Mother," I called as I hopped in on the stall. "I'm back."

"Oh, good!" she sighed. "We have a few customers. Go and serve three orders of porridge with eggs."

"On it!" I smiled.

Somehow, my smile was no longer as empty. I diligently served the said on to the three tables outside the stall where the hungry customers waited.

The period between four in the afternoon until seven in the evening is usually the busiest. That was when people who just left their offices or students whose classes just ended passed by to grab a quick semi-meal. After seven, it'd be quiet again. At around 10 in the evening until midnight, our sales would pick up again courtesy of adults who would populate our place to eat out in the open and relieve themselves of stress by ordering a bottle of beer.

My mother ran the place by herself. We only had three tables and a bar on the side of the stall anyway. This food stall was her dream. She wanted to cook for the ordinary people. She didn't intend to operate a proper restaurant as she said that she hoped the regular folks could get a taste of her food. She normally either opened for the afternoon shift only or the night---she seldom opened for both afternoon and evening as she had a full time teaching job.

I liked watching my mother smile every time she made food. I used to watch her like that when I was younger. But lately, since I'd been working in the university, too, I hadn't been able to really lend her a hand. But my mother was savagely independent. I knew it was hard but she didn't mind.

"How was the session?" my mother asked without looking, as she did the dishes.

"Uhm... refreshing," I leaned my back on the counter next to her, trying to sound convincing.

"Did you talk to him?" she followed through.

"Yeah," I bit my lip. He was mad I hung up on him this morning but---"

"He said you were still avoiding him," she hit my back with a laddle. "I'm talking about James,"

"Ouch!" I screamed. "Mother!"

"Mother!" she copied me. "Did you even try to look at his face? He looked incredibly devastated. How can you do that to James? You silly girl!"

She kept hitting my back with her palms---but strangely, I felt like I deserved it. I felt like my mother's hand strike was nothing compared to how James must be feeling now.

"Daughter," she calmed down after a minute. "I know that you are hurt, but don't push good people too far to a point that they don't care anymore. I'm sure you know what I mean."

That hit home. I had a sudden flashback of James' face in the last several days when I'd been staying away from him. His beautiful smile was gone---the smile I used to love.

"I heard he even stopped attending his practice sessions," my mother continued berating me. "I'm sure you had allot to do with that. How can you sleep at peace at night knowing that you hurt somebody like that?"

"Mother..." I pouted. "What about my feelings? How can he kiss another girl out in public? I've been trying so hard to unsee it but I can't---"

"Stupid girl," she flicked my forehead with her finger. "Of course you kiss the person you like. Why? Didn't you do that with Red---"

"Mother!" I shrieked. "How can you think of me and him like that?"

"Think what? You slept there a couple of times," she aimed a wooden spoon to my head. "How old do you think your mother is? I know that movement. That movement you make when you are next to each other---"

"Gosh! Mother!" I raised my voice. "I swear we didn't. Mother! He was just being nice to me---"

"And why do you think that is?"

"Mother," a male voice sounded from the side of the stall. "If you keep hitting her like that, my Jap-Jap will be hurt. Hit me instead."

James.

It was James.

He wasn't wearing his usual Jersey. He wore a polo shirt and jeans instead. He didn't look anything like the James who'd show up before me at this hour.

But he was smiling. He was forcing a smile.

It broke my heart looking at him.

"You!" my mother hit his back with her hands. "Why did you stop attending your practice? Why are you behaving all depressed lately, huh?"

"Mother," he groaned each time she hit him.

"I know you and my daughter have disagreements, but is that worth ruining your life altogether?" my mother kept hitting him. But he wasn't avoiding any of it.

He was indeed perfect. He let my mother hit and scold him instead of me. How could I ever stop liking a person like that? Angie was right---even now, James had been saving me. I couldn't stop my tears from falling.

"Mother," I ran to James' side and shielded him. It was my turn to protect him---even if he liked someone else. "Stop hitting him!"