Airplanes and Airports

Chapter 1

"Sometimes, in the afternoon,

I smell the burnt scent of dead flowers.

I think of you in the opposite room

sewing a plain dress or gathering your hair

into a tight bun in front of a large mirror

that has memorized your loneliness

as you add years to your face.

I pull myself together, leave whatever

I'm doing and think of exchanging stories

with you, or simply sitting beside you in silence,

hoping you would read my presence as tenderness.

But then I remember that you have passed away.

On that blazing morning of May, the branches

by the window of your hospital room

broke into a shiver of leaves, your spirit flown.

I tell myself: it is time to turn

this page and begin another.

It is time to accept the sovereignty of air

where the ship of the body

passes through disappearance.

It has already been a year.

I could have worked my way out of grief

but something in me holds me still."

- Keeping the Grief (Carlomar Daoana)

It has been more than a year. It's been exactly five years, but the grief is still there. I haven't forgotten the day he was shot. I haven't forgotten how, after that incident, my own father turned cold and how he forgot about me.

For the past five years of my life, I wake up and pretend that I don't carry my father's name anymore. Yun naman ung gusto nya eh. Every morning, before I leave for school, he makes me feel as though I don't exist. Oo nga pala, I am just his youngest and only daughter. Someone insignificant. For the past five years of my life, I am no one - except for the name I carry and the things I do, which by the way, displeases my father even more.

"Christine?", someone said as she knocked on my door. My mom.

"Po?", came my usual reply.

I put the book down (from where I got that poem) as she entered my room. And like sunshine, everything became brighter when she walked in. Literally and figuratively. I can say, she's that ray of light in my life. Okay, I sound very poetic now, pero... yeah, she is.

"Have you talked to your brother na?", she asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "Nope. Why? What happened?"

I panicked inside. Even if he's two years older than me, minsan, mas parang bata pa sya. What makes me even more scared for him is that... we're miles apart; he lives in Manila, and I live in the States. Nobody's there to take care of him. Nobody but maids and our relatives who check on him every once in a while. Plus, I know all the things that he does, na hindi alam ng parents namin.

I tried to hide the panic that I was feeling. If I showed that I'm really panicking, my mom would suspect something and try to interrogate me. Patay ako kay Kuya.