Princess Mae

2

Princess Mae did not go to school that day before leaving.

After working all night, Wilma came home on the bus and did not sleep. Instead, she spent the day with Princess Mae making ready for the journey. Her heart wanted nothing more than to spend this time shouting I love you and I love you and I love you forever; for if she had, perhaps it would have been enough. Enough to last until her daughter was a woman, able to make her own choices. But sad and broken, it was all she could do to breathe and concoct half-smiles and feigned encouragement. Princess Mae, as blue as her mother, also tried to ease their collective pain by summoning a stiff jaw and painted smile. The whole day, both just wanting to collapse in a cheerless stockpile of remorse, but unable to let go, fearing the other would not survive it.

For her part, Princess Mae also wanted to tell her mother she loved her, even just once. She had been unable to say this for many years, being mad about life in general and blaming the woman responsible for it. But she did love her mother, more than she cared to know, and now she was afraid to say it. Its telling would have polished and glistened their ultimate sadness. The sadness they were desperately trying to dismiss for the sake of the other.

They took a taxi to the mall and her mother spent almost 1100 pesos on a pendant necklace with a place for a picture. At the one hour photo Wilma paid another 100 pesos to have their picture taken. She left the necklace for the man to size and mount the photo. Next they went to a Gingersnaps and she spent over 600 pesos on a dress... a new dress. She can't ever recall having a new dress. It was light purple with tiers and a bow on the neckline. After they went to the food court and she picked the place; a pico-pico platter from Giligan's.

It was surreal. In 14 years her mother had never spent a whole day just treating her, as if they were comfortable. It was like they were part of the real world. The world where people go shopping and pass through stores, not fretting the pesos left behind. Making choices based on want, not necessity. Still, Mae understood the pesos did count, and this necklace and this dress meant more nights of less soup and added sacrifice in the home of Wilma Alcordo. These gifts were a precious legacy to be remembered and cherished; she would outgrow the dress, but not the sacrifice sketched upon it.

When they returned for the necklace the wrong picture had been put in. The man had told them to smile and surely they did, but in this picture the smiles were gone, replaced by crooked, twisted lips and down-tilted eyes. They were embracing tightly; a lasting embrace, their faces turned toward the camera. Their cheeks touched and hair falling between them, a mother's reflection in the daughter. She was her mother's daughter, with her mother's eyes and cheeks and lips; and they wore their emotions as a singlet. It was a sad display of people pretending to be happy. They did not mention to the man about putting in the wrong picture, but paid the money and placed the necklace in the bag with the dress.

Wilma said they would take a taxi home, but counting the pesos, Princess Mae said the jeepney went right by. Waiting at the stop, her mother took the necklace from the bag and placed it around Mae's neck, cradling her head and pulling her face close, she said, "Keep this on you always. You know what it tells you?"

"What mama?"

"It tells you I'm your real mother and I love you and I love you for always and letting you go is harder than anything for me. What does it tell you, Princess?"

"You love me."

"That's right. You keep me always, here by your heart. People will try and tell you I don't love you, but what does this tell you?"

"You love me, mama."

Her mother stayed right in her face, eye-to-eye, making absolutely sure, "That's right. I love you daughter and I know this is hard for you; even if you won't say. But as hard as it is for you, it is a thousand times harder for me. I know love is all I have to give besides this cheap necklace. My love has to be enough for now, because we may not see each other for many years. You must know that my love is like the river and the ocean; it lasts forever and it will drown you. Keep this always, Princess Mae... and what does it tell you?"

"It says you love me, mama."

And then her mother let her face go and turned her back to hide her own tears and fears. Fears that the love would become lost in things; things her father would give and things he would say. How could she defend against such persuasion? Things and words. And there would be no one to impugn them when they were said and given.

Certainly Victor Bajar would attempt to steal this love for himself, as in fact, she had kept it for her own convenience all these years. He would say that Wilma Alcordo was unfit and had she not abandoned Princess Mae? There could be nothing said against that; she had let her daughter be stolen away and for what? Pride? For a few pesos to cure a sickness? And it was another shameful episode in the life of Wilma Alcordo, who had allowed herself too many children from too many men. The wage of this shame was the lost love of a single daughter.