Adulting 101

"I'll tell you what, Mother…" Raina began, her voice soft, eyes twinkling with mischief as she tasted the lingering warmth of Luna's affection in the air. She decided to play along, gently matching her mother's mood. "How about I help you find that missing piece… the last one… and then—"

“No… no.” Luna shook her head vigorously, her tangled hair bouncing as she waved her arms dramatically. “I don’t want you to get dirty. Only me can dive into garbage and trash can.”

Her words, to any outsider, would sound like nonsense—“S*)% JF8%$0 Ikkfadsjlsa;kn,fadsnmfadsmnf”—gurgling, broken syllables that made no sense. But Raina understood her mother perfectly. Luna’s gestures were animated, expressive enough to speak volumes beyond her jumbled vocabulary.

“Not the garbage picking, Ma. Not the trash can diving either,” Raina replied with a soft chuckle. “I mean… how about you take me with you to the O’Hares? I can help clean. We’ll finish faster, and then you can get back to your, uh, treasure hunting.”

Luna fell silent.

The O’Hares paid well. It was a mansion, grand and cold, filled with too many rooms and too many secrets. Filthy, sinful, bad-bad rooms, as Luna once described them. She didn’t want Raina anywhere near that house—not with what happened there. Not with what she’s seen.

“Come on, Ma. We want to go back to Malacaz, right? The sooner we find the piece, the sooner we go.” Raina smiled as she gently wrapped her arms around her mother. “Besides, I’m already eighteen. I'm getting too old for Viscot.” The non-existent place where she could find a husband, as her mother told her.

That hug—though warm—carried so many unspoken truths. Raina loved Luna, despite everything. There were days she wanted to run away. She could have, legally. But how could she leave her mother behind in their shanty near the riverbank? Cast out by society, misunderstood by most, Luna had only one constant in her life—her daughter. Raina couldn’t bear the thought of Luna alone.

She also couldn't deny her longing to be in Manila—to finally pursue her studies, to walk in spaces where her mother’s madness wouldn’t follow. But for now, her heart stayed.

That night, Luna neither agreed nor objected. They went to bed quietly, the river murmuring outside their window. Raina had made up her mind.

If her mother saw the "last piece"—however imaginary it might be—then maybe they'd finally close the door on Malacaz, the mythical city Luna always spoke about. Then she could convince her mother that Veering-Gan in Manila was the new Malacaz, a rebirth of her dreams.

And if things didn’t go well… if Luna spiraled again… Raina had already spoken to Dr. Amihan. She had a plan. The doctor had offered help—a place for Luna in a psychiatric clinic, with compassionate care. Raina had confided in her about her mother's episodes, the visions, the obsessions. Dr. Amihan had run tests, given her a string of psychological assessments that made no sense to her, but apparently made everything clearer to the doctor.

She explained Luna's condition in simple terms—hallucinations, delusions, dissociative tendencies. It made Raina feel less alone, more grounded. At least someone believed her.

That's when Raina confided another one of her secrets to Dr. Amihan which fascinated the psychiatrist to help her.

It started when Raina was very young. She remembered how she could always tell if someone meant harm, even before they acted. She’d get a bitter, rotten taste in her mouth—a sourness that coated her tongue like poison.

Once, when a group of teens teased Luna, laughing at her strange speech and odd mannerisms, Raina had tasted that bitterness. One boy had picked up a stone, eyes wild. Just before he threw it, Raina yanked her mother out of the way. The stone missed them by an inch. Her mother hadn’t even flinched. But Raina had known.

That taste—sharp and gritty—became her compass. Over time, she used it to guide Luna away from danger, to shield her without drawing attention. Their barangay eventually accepted them. Fr. Dalisay helped. Every Sunday, he would remind the congregation to be kind to Luna, to see her heart beyond the madness. After all, Luna cleaned the church for free, never asking for anything.

Despite a few curious strangers and occasional hostility, people mostly left them alone. Luna took on odd jobs—sweeping alleys, scrubbing bathrooms, collecting recyclable junk. Donations helped. Raina never went hungry, never truly suffered the way some did. A kind neighbor once offered them a small room in her home, but Luna refused. She didn’t want to leave the riverbank. It was sacred to her. It watched over them, she’d say.

For Raina, emotions came with flavors. Sweetness when she was with good friends or kind-hearted people. Warmth in church, around Fr. Dalisay. The taste of her mother's love was different—complex, like burnt sugar and lemon. She couldn't tell if it was reverence or fear. Maybe both.

What kept her interested in the O’Hares’ mansion, however, wasn’t just the money. It was Cassandra—her high school best friend.

Cassandra worked there as an online entertainer. Whenever Raina visited, her presence tasted like electricity. Cassandra held a secret, and Raina could taste it in the air. Something dangerous… alluring.

“It’s ‘cause men adore me,” Cassandra once said, flipping her hair as if it was nothing. “I just pose. Do what they want online. Then I get money and buy what I want. Simple.”

Raina wasn’t naïve. She understood what Cassandra meant. “You’re pretty, Rain,” Cassandra had told her. “So pretty that guys will go crazy for you. But don’t do this. You’re too smart for it.”

Raina smiled but kept her thoughts to herself.

She needed money. A seed fund for her dream to study in Manila. If she worked at the mansion—even just cleaning—she might learn the ropes. Maybe she'd talk to the owner. Maybe she could model. Just simple poses. Nothing weird. Just enough to save.

Cassandra would help her. She always did.

That night, Raina lay in bed beside her mother, her mind running circles. She wished she could speak to Dr. Amihan again—hear her voice, ask for guidance, something reassuring. But for now, she needed sleep.

Tomorrow, Luna might wake up screaming from another nightmare—of fire, of a broken vase, of a world that was only real to her. And when she did, Raina would be there.

Until they found the missing piece.

Until they found their version of Malacaz.

Or built a new one.