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XII

I got inside our house using the window of my room. Pretending that nothing happened, I stayed in bed waiting for the morning. I went down when breakfast was being served. I saw my mom and my sister sitting at the breakfast table. My mother looked at me both happy and angry. She did not say a word though. My sister welcomed me with her smile.

I heard my father complaining about something while preparing for work. He got out of their room and saw me. He just nodded, signifying he’ll talk to me later. Just as he was about to sit down, I don’t know who started it but my parents started to argue about something.

Instinctively, I got my diary from my lap and set it on the table for them to see. My sister did the same. We were both looking at them. I could see tears lining up on my sister’s face. I tried not to cry and gave my parents an intent look.

My dad got silent. My mom looked at us and nodded that they understood.

They both stood up. They went to the veranda. There, they talked. Pretending to eat, I saw both of them explain things to one another. My mother cried. It was when I saw my father held her hand that I stood up and went to my room.


XIII

On my bed, I got a ballpen and opened my diary. I just have to talk with someone. I thought about the days that transpired. I saw the faces of my sister, my mom, and my dad flash before my eyes. I knew that everything’s gonna be fine. Hell, maybe this is part of being a family.

Among the thoughts that were my flashbacks on that instant, it was the fresh memory of Mina and how we met that was so clear. No song could be heard on a radio that’s turned off but I felt songs singing inside of me. Like a love song that you sincerely hear but has no tune, it swayed me to music I never knew existed. It was the simple details on how we became friends, and on how she touched my life in a way I may never forget.

I wrote a single word on my diary that day – Mina. Never mind that she was twenty-three and I was barely thirteen years old. That word contained the truth of my coming to adolescence. It welcomed me to a world where some things could be a lie, yet everything could have a purpose. If what I felt wasn’t love, then I don’t know what I’d call it. You just never forget your first