I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as I walked into the shop.
My older brother noticed me, and an unsettling wave of anxiety washed over me, especially since he was busy cutting someone’s hair.
He raised an eyebrow as I approached.
Unfortunately, my movements caught the eye of the young man sitting in the barber chair.
His curious stare felt like a spotlight, burning through my thin armor.
Embarrassed, I quickly looked away and pretended to examine the shop as if it were the first time I had seen it.
In the far corner, my cousins were busy cutting hair, their clients wearing PMI sling IDs-students, though they looked older and more composed.
I could feel their eyes briefly flicker toward me, and my heart sank deeper into my chest.
As if sensing my tension, I lowered my head.
I hated this feeling, this gnawing fear of being scolded in front of everyone.
Please, Kuya. Not today. Not here.
"What are you doing here again?"
My brother's voice was sharp, and I could feel the weight of the room shift as everyone fell silent, waiting for the inevitable exchange.
I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat.
I forced a smile, trying to convey the silent message: "You know, I’m out of allowance."
He seemed to understand, and his expression darkened in response.
"I don't have any money right now. Where's the 250 pesos I gave you?"
The disappointment in his voice cut deeper than I expected.
I knew this conversation was heading in the same, predictable direction, but still, I tried to explain.
"I used 150 pesos for a school project, gave 70 pesos for our group expenses, and spent 30 pesos on lunch."
My voice trailed off as his expression shifted from frustration to anger.
"You're always spending! Why are you even bothering with school if you don't have the money for it? Just quit already!"
The words echoed in my ears, squeezing my chest tightly.
I had heard them so many times before that they should've lost their sting by now.
But today, they felt heavier, more painful, like a wound reopening over and over again.
I bit my lip to keep my emotions in check, aware that everyone in the shop, including the young man in the barber chair, had heard every word.
I mustered a laugh, masking my hurt.
"HAHAHA! Just kidding, Kuya. Don't worry, I won't bother you again. I'll come back another time,"
I said, spinning on my shoes before the tears could betray me.
I rushed out the door, hoping no one noticed the crack in my voice.
Outside the shop, my classmate was waiting for me-my loyal companion, always ready to walk me back to the boarding house.
The concern on her face was unmistakable, though she tried to act casual.
"Did your brother scold you again?" she asked gently.
I forced a smile, shaking my head. "No, it's nothing. HAHAHA! Come on, let's go!"
She gave me a knowing look, clearly unconvinced by my cheerful act.
"Did you get any allowance?"
I nodded, flashing her another practiced smile, one I had perfected over years of pretending everything was fine.
She smiled back, though I could see the lingering doubt in her eyes.
As I walked, my smile began to fade, and tears threatened to spill over.
My eyes began to water, and I blinked furiously to hold the tears back.
No! I didn’t want to cry here; it would be too embarrassing in front of her.
No words passed between us during the walk.
Maybe she sensed that I wasn't ready to talk, and for that, I was grateful.
This will be the LAST time I ever set foot in that shop.
After about ten minutes, we reached my boarding house.
I thanked her with a small wave as she left.
The moment she disappeared from sight, the ache I had been suppressing surged back, and the tears I had fought so hard to hold back threatened to spill again.
I climbed the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.
All I wanted was to reach my bed, to sink into the comfort of my pillow and escape the world for a while.
When I entered the room, my boardmate Ate N. greeted me cheerfully, carrying a basin filled with clothes.
"Hey! How did your midterms go?" she asked with a warm smile.
"It went fine, Ate," I replied, offering her a tired smile. She smiled back and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I sat down, placing my things to the side. I turned on my small fan to combat the heat, allowing a moment of coolness to wash over me.
But my thoughts turned inward.
My brother’s harsh words replayed in my mind, relentless and tormenting.
I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer; they streamed down my cheeks and soaked into my shoulders.
“Why is my life like this, Lord? I try so hard to make things easier, but it feels like they’re just getting heavier.”
The tears flowed freely now, a cascade of hurt and confusion.
This wasn’t the first time I had been on the receiving end of such words, so why did it hurt so much this time?
I was used to it, so why did it hit me harder now?
I had done everything I could to lighten the burden, but somehow, it only seemed to grow heavier.
I had skipped meals every week; I had done everything I could to help.
Why, Lord?
Didn’t they ever think to check if I was fine?
Perhaps my kuya was just stressed, overwhelmed with his responsibilities in life.
Maybe he didn’t mean to say those hurtful things, but why did he keep saying them?
I wasn’t a robot.
It would have been okay if we were alone, but there were so many people in that shop.
How embarrassing.
Sometimes, I just wanted to give up and find a job to take the pressure off.
But what about Mama?
What about her dreams for me?
“God, I need your comfort right now.”
I had no load to call Mama; all I had was you.
Please forgive my brother for the hurtful words he spoke earlier; he didn’t mean it.
But beneath the weight of my sadness, a small flicker of hope remained-a hope one day all my sacrifices will make sense.
YOU ARE READING
POV
Non-FictionLife often presents itself as a series of hurdles, each one taller than the last. These hurdles, though daunting, are not meant to break us but to shape us into who we are meant to be. It is through our darkest nights that we gain the strength to fa...
