UNBREAKABLE

PROLOGUE

"Don't you like to play?" A tiny voice whispered from the left side of the school bench I was sitting. I watched the other kids in my class play a ball relay game. It was my first day of school in Boston, where we moved from New York a year after my father's death.

"Um... I don't know anyone." I felt a lump in my throat, remembering my friends from our New York neighborhood. "My friends aren't here." My voice croaked as I replied without looking toward who I was talking to. I was only eight then, but that was one of many moments engraved on my memory.

How could I ever forget the only person in my 2nd-grade class brave enough to talk to a stranger like me? Not to mention I'm the only brown-skinned and straight black-haired girl my eyes can see in a class of blondes, brunettes, and a few redheads. Though I was too young to realize that maybe it was one reason, I hesitated to participate in my class activities that day. Eventually, I confirmed it to myself as the days passed. Seeing myself so much different on the outside from everyone in my class made me feel alienated.

My mother was born and raised in Boston. She moved to New York when she got a full scholarship for her Business Management course at NYU. In her second year in college, she met my Filipino father, who was studying to be a doctor at the same school. She said it was love at first bite. It's funny because she told me my father's pork adobo captured her heart first. 

Both of my parents came from a household of independent and hardworking immigrants. My mother and father shared the same shift and lunch break as working students in their college library. During one of their shared lunch break, my mother got a taste of the Pinoy adobo and developed her love for it. Since then, my parents have been inseparable. Love surrounded me. Love from my parents and the Filipino community in our New York neighborhood. With the camaraderie and genuine concern, our entire area felt like a home away from where my parents' original homes were.

When my father died of a heart attack when I was seven, the entire community mourned. From when he died to when we left for Boston, my mother and I felt so much love from people with whom we don't share any blood relation. But as my mother always says, love isn't always about blood. Genuine and unconditional love knows no barriers, color, age, race, faith, or place.

That's why when she accepted a job offer and revealed the news of our move to another state, her view of genuine and unconditional love was the basis of her explanation for me. "Love is everywhere. You will find new friends to love in Boston. We will spread happiness there too!" And I believed her.

My eight-year-old self had a hard time adjusting to my new school. Or maybe I focused so much on how different I looked from the rest. That's why everything outside the house felt hard. But since the brave boy noticed me, it got easier.

I look forward to seeing and talking to him daily rather than thinking about why I'm different.

My young heart started feeling something. Who wouldn't? I felt butterflies flying in my stomach every time I saw his green eyes that turned to dark blue whenever the sunlight hit his face. In pure innocence, it confused my understanding of colors for a while. His messy brown hair always makes me want to brush it with my tiny fingers during playtime. I didn't know why the touch of his little hand on mine made me happy all those times he chose me to be his partner during dance time. Every year I look forward to Valentine's, Christmas, and my birthday because he never forgets to give me the best gift. Though from fourth grade to a few grades after, my mother always mentioned how thoughtful his mom was for buying the gifts he'd given me.

In my mind, moving to Boston was a challenge, for I left my eight years of New York life and friends behind. But it was one of the happiest in my heart, for I met the one person who made my heart flutter for the first time—every day since that first school day in Boston filled my heart with hope and inspiration.

It wasn't clear to my young mind then what I was feeling. I only knew how the young boy in my class made me feel daily. Since then, we have been together. Two peas in a pod. Batman and Catwoman. He was Prince Eric, and I was Princess Ariel. I was his Lois Lane, and he was my Superman. The pairings and Halloween costumes our mothers enjoyed making us wear made a list longer. Though the simplest but most special to me is that he's my Art, and I'm his Shelly.

We became the best of everything. As time went by, it blossomed into something extraordinary. At first, I was in denial that what I'd been feeling was beyond what a friend should feel. It took my other best friend, Avery, to make me realize what my heart wanted.

Sometimes the heart wants what it wants. Though the mind tries hard to fight over nature, it doesn't always win. And it's the reality that sometimes whatever or whoever makes the heart happy is also the same that can hurt it and make it miserable.

Unfortunately for me, I have to learn it the hard way. As much as I want to follow my mind, my heart can be stubborn. Indeed, we can't choose who we're attracted to. "We can't engineer relationships."

What makes it more complicated is when you're unsure if the one your heart wants feels the same for you. Every day can be a struggle. To preserve the friendship or to give love a chance.

***

You can't choose who you're attracted to. You can't engineer relationships. - Otis Milburn