clumsy, small steps and where it would take us

8

Graduation day / Ateneo Grade School

They were lined up on one side; all the athletes performed beyond excellence and brought championships for the school. Thirdy's eyes roamed everywhere, hoping to see a tall man from the audience. He wanted him to see this celebration. He did it for him.

But he was not there. It was only his mom, holding her camera up, telling him to smile once he received his medal. Thirdy was upset. He felt terrible that his father could not witness his school acknowledging his contribution to the Ateneo community. Mozzy's smile faltered when her son left the line, running away from the venue.

..

It was his 15th missed shot. Balls were all around the court. Thirdy reached for the cart, wanted another, and hoped he would shoot when his hand felt nothing but the cold metal. He used up all the balls their team had.

Frustrated, he pushed the cart off, causing it to tumble. He took one ball from the ground and threw it as far as possible, hoping it would help eliminate the hollow feeling inside him. He can't understand his Dad. He tried his best for him. He only wanted him to see what he accomplished, hoping he would tell him he was proud of him, but he was not here. His father did not even take a day off from his training. Why? Was his team more important than his son? Thirdy didn't know what to think. He just wanted his father to be proud of him. Was that too much for a 12-year-old boy to ask?

"Hinahanap ka nila doon," a voice echoed in the court.

Thirdy followed the voice and saw a girl in a pink dress and a rainbow clip on her messy hair walking towards him. His eyes never left her, afraid she might trip on her feet (like she always did.). He only felt relief when she stopped before him and tilted her head as she catechized him for being in the court instead of in the activity area where their graduation ceremony was held.

"Don't ask," he told her off.

He picked the ball cart up and gathered all the balls he used before the cleaning staff found him using the court without permission. Thirdy was on his fifth ball when he noticed her following him, pushing the cart beside him. He was not in the mood to argue. He just let Bea follow him. (She was being helpful if he was being honest. He did not need to walk back and forth to place the balls back on the cart.)

It was uncomfortable. Not because he did not like Bea's presence with him but because her eyes were on him. It felt like she was examining his movements, analyzing every action he was doing.

Unable to take the heaviness of her gaze on him, he placed the last ball back on the cart, looked at her, and asked, "Why are you here?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. Thirdy almost wanted to scoff, thinking she might be here because his friends asked to, but he knew when he looked at those earnest, honest, brown circles of her eyes. He knew she wasn't there because someone asked her to. She was there because she wanted to be. And a little warm fuzzy feeling ignited inside of him. Maybe, maybe, this day was not bad at all.

"Kahit wala Daddy mo," Bea trailed with a smile never leaving her lips, "We're here for you. Kausap namin si Tita kanina. Sobrang happy niya for you."

"What's the point?"

"It's hard to celebrate without your Dad, but sana isipin mo si Tita Mozzy," Bea answered. "She wanted to see you up there. If you missed that, magiging sad siya. You don't want that, do you?"

Thirdy frowned, locked the ball cart, and leaned on it. "Do you even know how awful it is to celebrate something without your dad?"

But he was taken aback when the girl grinned and nodded like it was nothing to her. "I spent the last few years without Dad. It was sad, Thirdy. But my mom is here. I just have to be happy na one of my loved ones is here with me."