I'm Living Today

5

He's drinking...again.

He's with his guest, chatting, being a plastic that he is.

"Cielo, luto mo nga 'to," he said, pointing to the tofu his guest had brought.

I nodded, preferring to avoid an argument. My mom's not here yet. She's at work. They're tired, but what about us—their children?

Leo, he always seems misunderstood. At fifteen, he's grappling with everything a teenage boy shouldn't have to. I see the confusion in his eyes, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. He doesn't talk about it, but I know. I know because I feel it too.

I took the tofu from the table and headed to the kitchen, where I started preparing the dish. The sounds of their laughter and the clinking of glasses drifted through the house, grating on my nerves. It was always like this when he drank—false joviality masking the underlying tension.

As I chopped the tofu, my mind wandered to Leo. I worried about him. He had been getting into trouble at school, lashing out at teachers and classmates. I knew it was because of the stress at home. He didn't have an outlet, someone to talk to. Neither did I, really. We were both just trying to survive in this chaotic household.

The tofu sizzled in the pan, and I stirred it absently. I thought about my friends, the small pockets of peace they brought into my life. But here, at home, peace was a foreign concept. It was always about avoiding conflict, staying under the radar.

"Ang tagal naman," his voice boomed from the living room.

"Malapit na po," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

I finished cooking and plated the tofu, carrying it out to the living room. I placed it on the table in front of him and his guest, who barely acknowledged me. I turned to leave, but then I saw Leo standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation.

"Ate," he said softly, catching my attention. "Can we talk later?"

"Of course," I whispered, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

He nodded and retreated back to his room. I knew he needed someone to talk to, and I wanted to be there for him. But it was hard, balancing my own struggles with the need to support him.

As I returned to the kitchen, I felt the weight of our reality pressing down on me. It wasn't fair that we had to endure this, that our lives were marked by his drinking and our mother's absence. But I had to stay strong for Leo, my siblings and for myself.

I leaned against the counter, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. The quiet of the kitchen was a brief respite from the chaos outside. I knew I had to find a way to break this cycle, to give Leo and myself a chance at a better life.

For now, I would take it one day at a time. I had my friends, my sessions with Dr. Reyes, and the small moments of peace I could find. And I had Leo, Clara, Jeremiah who needed me just as much as I needed them.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the rest of the evening. It wasn't easy, but I had to believe that things could get better. For Leo, for myself, my siblings and for the future we deserved.

As I lingered in the kitchen, the murmur of their conversation continued, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter. I dreaded returning to the living room, where my father's false cheerfulness masked the underlying volatility.

I took another deep breath, steeling myself. I knew I had to be there for Leo. He needed someone stable, someone who understood what he was going through. And right now, that someone had to be me.

I walked down the hallway to Leo's room and knocked softly. "Leo, it's me."

"Come in," he said, his voice barely audible.