Defining Paradox

Chapter two: A Day in the Life of Brett Madrigal

I woke up at about 6:30, but immediately, I can hear the bed calling me back to sleep. See, I’m not really a morning person. I’d rather just sleep the whole day.

It takes all of my willpower to ignore the bed’s tempting calls, but I managed to resist. Every Saturday, I wake up early because I have to help my godmother, Ninang Grace, around the house.

Ninang. Grace is one of my dad’s closest childhood friends. She’s the wife of a famous surgeon. She lives in the nicer part of Metro Manila, a posh subdivision where doctors, lawyers and even some actors live. I help her around the house, with chores and her kids and with anything she needs help with. For payment, she gives me 200 bucks per hour. That’s about 1 000 a day. Hey, I’m not going to complain about that.

Unlike Ninang Grace, my family’s not filthy rich. We live in a middle class home. Our house is a small one, fit for the three of us in the family. My dad, me, and my little sister Jasmine. My mom, an American native, passed away after she gave birth to Jasmine, so when I got old enough, I helped my dad with the expenses in our family.

I have several jobs. I work in our local convenience store, I’m a waiter at my dad’s restaurant, I clean houses and baby sit our neighbor’s kids sometimes. It gets crazy and super hectic at times, but I know it’s worth it.

I get out of bed, groggily making my way to the shower. Briefly, I take a look at my reflection in the mirror. The same unimpressive sight greets me. I mean, I look okay I guess, with my brown eyes, messy brown hair, pale skin and slightly built and tall figure, but I don’t exactly look like a chic magnet. I’m too plain, I guess. Too generic. I shrug.

Yeah, whatever. Like I could care any less.

I take a quick shower and change into my jeans, an old band shirt, and my sneakers. I get out of my room and head to the kitchen. I could already smell the hypnotizing scent of waffles and chocolate syrup. I swear, having a chef as your dad can be pretty cool sometimes. I smiled.

“Hey, dad! That smells so freaking good.” I exclaim, taking my seat next to Jasmine. He placed a plate full of hot, fresh waffles and a bottle of chocolate syrup on the table. Jasmine clapped her hands. “Yes! I thank God for food!”

The three of us ate until we can’t eat anymore. Hey, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I don’t intend of skipping it anytime soon. I patted my stomach.

“Uh, I’m so full; I think I’m going to explode.” I groaned. Jasmine’s face contorted with disgust.

“Eww. Please don’t explode. I don’t want to have Brett slime on the walls. That’d be like, so gross.” She gagged. I rolled my eyes

“Whatever, Jas. Anyway, I’m off to work. Bye dudes.” I bowed and gave a salute to them before grabbing my backpack and heading out.

I waited at the loading zone on the sidewalk until an empty jeep came. “Manong, isa po, sa may Executive Homes lang.” I said as I paid eight pesos to the driver.

After I handed the coins, I tried to make myself comfortable in my seat. A sweaty, pudgy, middle aged guy wearing work-out clothes sat on my right side, while a lady with three children sat on my right. To say I wasn't comfortable was an understatement. But it’s not like I can do anything about it. I endured the invasion of my personal space for half an hour, before we finally got to the entrance of the subdivision. I mentally cheered.

“Manong, para po.”

I made my way out of the jeepney, but with my luck, I tripped and almost got ran over by a truck. At least I didn't though. 

~

“Kuya Brett, is glue edible?” Angelo, Ninang Grace’s youngest son called from the playroom. I sighed, exasperated.

“No, Angelo. Glue is not edible. Don’t you dare try to eat that.” I replied from the laundry room.

I like kids. I really do. But sometimes, they can be quite a handful.

“Oh my Gosh, Angelo, stop being like, such a freak” Brittany, Ninang Grace’s eldest child, scoffed. Well, there’s something more difficult than children. What, you ask? Adolescent twelve year old girls.

Brittany was the spoiled type of girl, the shallow, naïve, pretentious type. She’s not mean or anything. It's just that she can be a little… dense and shallow at times.

She came out of her room and giggled once she saw me.

“Oh my freaking gosh, Brett! I like, didn’t know that you’re here! Why didn’t you tell me na you’re here pala” Brittany batted her eyelashes in an effort to look charming and cute. Uh, no thanks. Dating twelve year old girls is not my thing. I think I might end up in jail. I’ll pass.

“Uh, I go here almost every Saturday, Brittany.” I mumbled as I went out of the laundry room and began mopping the marble floor.

“Oh yeah right. Silly me. So yeah, I was kind of wondering if like, you’d like to come to my thirteenth birthday next week. It’d be like so cool, if you’d come.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes at me.

God, this is so awkward.

“Uh, I’ll try Brittany, I’m kind of busy, you know, work stuff and all that.” I laughed, trying not to look too uncomfortable. She wasn’t making this easy for me either. She attached herself on my arm like a leech.

“But you’ll try, right?” she gave me the puppy dog eyes. I nodded. “Okay sure whatever. Uh, so I got to um, walk the dog, or something. See you later.” I removed her sharp claws from my arm and handed her the mop.

“Um, just watch Angelo for a while.” I called, before dashing out.

I didn’t bring the dog outside. Just so we’re on the same page.

I took a deep breath and walked around the block, just walking, with no particular destination in mind. I’d end up in a haunted graveyard for all I care. Sometimes, I just need a breather. Being around people kind of agitates me, especially people like Brittany. The kind who doesn't back down.

I’m really not comfortable socializing. I’m fine just standing in the background, being unnoticed. Being around people makes me anxious and uncomfortable, and so does being in the spotlight. I’m an antisocial, introverted freak. And I’m fine that way.

I looked around me. Fancy houses, modern architecture, and manicured lawns, everywhere I look. You know what I mean? This place doesn’t even look like the Philippines. It’s like, it doesn’t belong here. It’s like a snapshot taken from a stupid house catalog in New Jersey or something, complete with the white picket fence and a backyard pool. I sighed. I know I’m being grumpy. And I’m sorry for that. 

After a few rounds around the block, I neared Ninang Grace's mansion. I decide to go back in. I jogged to the gate, slowly feeling the reality coming back to me, like a hard slap right across the cheek.