See, the thing about my mom, Cynthia, was that she wouldn't let go. Her grip on my wrist was always very tight and I could feel her painted nails tear my skin, but only through the epidermis. Including the dermis would be an exaggeration, like what Miss Santos said when my seatmate Carlo boasted about how he could run faster than a horse in our English class.
"Maybe," I mused, "But not any faster than Pegasus, I bet."
Carlo was a person who never entertained the idea of having someone one up him. I could say that stopped him in is tracks because he turned his attention to me and looked at me dead in the eye.
"Who's Piggysus?" asked Carlo, and from the way his face scrunched and his voice, he was obviously annoyed by the idea. Carlo always wanted to be number one. He'd always have the number one sewn or printed on his shirts. I think he was just born to be like that. His family name was Aala so he was always called first during roll calls and he was always at the top of our class while I was a close second.
I corrected him, "It's Peh-guh-suhs."
I could tell that Carlo might come storming in all of the classrooms to challenge a Pegasus for a contest on who's faster. I didn't even bother spelling it out because I didn't want anyone to look it up. I read from a book in Mama's room that Pegasus had wings so I wasn't really sure if he ran. . . I liked to think he used his wings most of the time. I would too, but the wings that Mama made me wear with my Sunday clothes were only good to look at and completely useless.
Tricia, another classmate who always sat at the last row, butted in, "Pegasus is a horse, Carlo. Sam is clearly saying you're not fast. Aaaahh, I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."
I knew she picked up the last line from our fourth grade English book. English Matters 4, it was called.
That was where Miss Santos joined in and told us how we were 'exaggerating'. I checked what the word means and saw that it could also mean making something simple extraordinary. I liked that.
Maybe that was what Mama was doing; she was exaggerating me to turn me into something amazing too.
Mama had her sad days too. Back then, she would have me inch a bit closer to her before getting out of bed every morning. "Hug your sister, Sam," she'd whisper and then move her hands towards her tummy.
I would then get up and lean my head on her stomach. There were mornings when I thought I heard a beat, as if it was kicking its way out. Mama would always ask me to sing a song for them both. Sometimes, I wondered if Mama was also like this to me when I was a baby. I didn't like that my words were mixed up and that I hummed my own melody, but she still seemed to enjoy it.
Her sad days began on the morning of my tenth birthday. I woke up to my mother's wailing sounds. I was not sure if I should just pretend that I was still asleep or if I should open my eyes, but when I finally did, I saw that we were both lying on a pool of blood. When Mama realized I was already awake, her cries only grew louder, and she slowly reached for her dressmaker shears on the bedside table. I felt the cold, thin metal pressed against my flesh. As our eyes met, I got up the bed and ran to the bedroom door. Mama continued crying, and I could only watch her as I catch my breath.
Later that day, a lot of people dropped by but no one brought me a gift. They just all looked at me but I wasn't sure if they were smiling at me. Their eyes all looked tired.
"Sam, you have to stay strong."
Mama always said she was proud of me because I was smart and strong, so I didn't really understand why they still had to tell me this. I wasn't number one like Carlo, but I think he was only at the top of our class because his parents always brought stuff from their family trips. I couldn't blame Carlo though, because I actually enjoyed whenever he always had something new to show us, even when Show and Tell was only for Mondays in our class.
