Martinistrasse (GxG)

CHAPTER III

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Mabilis na dumaan na akala mo'y hangin ang mga araw na nakaburol si Mommy. Hindi ko man lang napansin dahil sa pagkabusy. Kahit naman kasi wala ako sa Pilipinas ay hindi pa din pwedeng mawala ang presensya ko sa Mallari Medical Group. Kaya na-attend pa din ako sa mga board meetings virtually.

My mother was always record audio reminders on my iPod touch. She recorded them whenever she dropped me off somewhere. I never understood this, since anything she had to say she could have said right then.

I think the first audio recording was on my first day of kindergarten in 2009. What was I, four years old? The schoolyard was filled with kids, shrieking and running around. We approached, me holding my mother's hand, as a woman in a black beret formed lines in front of the teachers in St. Benedict's College. I saw the other mothers kissing their kids and walking away. I must have started crying.

"What's the matter?" my mother asked.

"Don't go."

"I'll be here when you come out."

"No, Ma."

"It's OK. I'll be here."

"What if I can't find you?"

"You will."

"What if I lose you?"

"Silly you. You can't lose your mother, Faris."

She smiled. She reached inside her jacket pocket and handed me the iPod touch and an earphone.

"Here." she said. "If you miss me really badly, you can play my voice."

She wiped my eyes with a tissue from her purse, then hugged me good-bye. I can still see her walking backward, blowing me kisses, her lips painted in red NARS, her hair swept up above her ears. I weaved good-bye with the iPod. It didn't occur to her, I guess, that I was just starting school and didn't know how to use a phone. That was my mother. It was the thought that counted.

The morning of mom's memorial I stayed at my room as long as I could. I did want my lola to see the stiIl-applied makeup until it would be too late to wash it off. I told to myself it would be okay to take a dress from mama's closet. That she wouldn't mind. But it was kinda weird at the same time.

I opened the door to her room, a vault that by October was being disturbed more and more by my sister, though she never confessed, taking things that she didn't have any plan on returning.

I wanted to look respected for everyone. So I opened the double doors to her closet and reviewed the neatly arranged dresses. Even though I was my father's favorite, mommy was my idol.

"Gosh," I said, whispering into the darkness of her closet. I realized with guilt and glee that everything I saw before my eyes mine now.

"Hello? Knock-knock," said Camaori.

I jumped.

"Sorry to disturb you, ate," she said. "I thought I heard you in here."

My sister stood in what they called one of her Lalisa Manobal dresses. I had never understood why unlike the rest of us, including mommy, had no hips - she could slide into a straight-cut dress and fill it out just enough to look perfect in it.

"What are you doing in here?" Camaori asked.

"I need help with this zipper." Camaori turned, and I could see what I had never seen on our mother. The back of Camaori's black bra, the top of her half-slip. I walked the step ot two over to her, trying not to touch anything but the zipper tab, zipped her up.