Collision
"Alex... Alex... Alexander!"
I flinched, startled by Celine's voice. I blinked, realizing I'd been zoning out again, lost in thought. I hadn't even noticed when she walked into the dining room.
"What?" I muttered, finally looking up from the food in front of me.
Namaywang naman agad siya. "You're spacing out again," she said, glancing at the barely touched lunch in front of me. "Ang lalim ng iniisip mo, nakakalimutan mo na naman kumain."
"It's nothing," I replied shortly, turning my eyes back to the food.
Ilang subo lang ang nagawa ko bago ko na naman gustong ibagsak ang kubyertos. Wala pa rin akong malasahan, and that just made me lose my appetite even more.
"Nothing? Pero ini-ignore mo na naman ang luto ko! Alam mo bang nag-effort ako d'yan, tapos hindi mo rin kakainin? 'Yung pagod ko, Alex, nasaan ang hustisya?!" Oh God, here we go again.
Napailing na lang ako sa pagiging dramatic ni Celine. Tumayo ako mula sa mesa, hoping she'd let it go this time.
"Tapos ka na? Parang wala ka namang kinain. Umupo ka at ubusin mo 'yang pagkain mo!" sabi niya agad, blocking my way.
"I'm already full, Celine—"
"Full? Eh halos wala kang kinain! Kaninang umaga, ganito rin! Wala kang laman sa tiyan!" she scolded, sounding like some kind of strict tita.
"Just set it aside. I'll eat it later when I get hungry—"
"Liar!" she interrupted. "You always say that, then leave the food until it spoils. Kung hindi kita kakatokin sa kuwarto, baka nabutas na 'yang bituka mo!" Celine was genuinely frustrated now, and I could tell she was worried.
Pero kailan ba 'to matututo na magsalita ng hindi tumataas ang boses? Ang sakit lalo ng ulo ko pag ganito siya.
I sighed. "Mukha bang magkakagana ako kung hindi ko namang kayang lasahan ang mga niluto mo?" I shot back, which made her pause. Napatingin siya sa akin, sa mga mata kong halatang pagod. "Thanks, Celine, but you're wasting your time cooking for me when I can't even appreciate it. Alam kong marami kang inaasikaso. I'll handle myself. Magluluto ako pag nagutom ako."
"You know I don't mind," she replied, her voice softening. "I can't trust your 'I'll handle myself.' I know it's frustrating not to taste anything, pero kailangan mo pa ring kumain, Alex."
"I know. I'm trying. Wala lang talaga akong gana. Stop worrying," I said, noticing the concern etched on her face.
"Paanong hindi mag-aalala? Nakikita mo ba ang itsura mo? Pumayat ka!" she shouted, and I winced. "Kahit hindi pa bumabalik ang panglasa mo, you still need to eat. Stop starving yourself," she urged, trying to convince me.
"I'm trying, Celine, really. But even hunger doesn't feel the same anymore. I feel like all my senses are disappearing one by one. It's just a matter of time." I said it like it was nothing, but I could see how much it hurt her. I'm not great at choosing my words carefully or sugarcoating things.
Celine had always known the impact of my trauma. The things I'd gone through affected not just my mental state but my physical health too—like losing my sense of taste and my constant struggle with insomnia.
"Hindi mangyayari 'yan, Alex," she insisted. "Babalik rin ang panglasa mo. Sinabi ko naman sa'yo, tutulungan kita. Kaya nga ako nag-take ng cooking class para sa'yo, 'di ba? You know I hate cooking!"
Totoo 'yon. Hindi naman talaga siya mahilig magluto. But because of what happened to me, Celine made the effort. At dahil siya lang ang pinagkakatiwalaan ko, mas nakakakain ako kahit paunti-unti kahit wala na akong malasahan.
