The Sun, The Moon, and Their Stars

14 : Plans

Kimberly

Saturday nights are meant to be spent in front of the TV. And thank goodness for local cable because there are various options of things to watch.

I'm watching a rerun of Gilmore Girls. It's the picnic basket episode, which is also one of my favorites from the earlier seasons because of one thing and one thing only. Jess Mariano.

Rory and Jess are just about to sit on the wooden bridge where Luke pushed him when my mother suddenly appears from out of nowhere.

She stands between me and the TV and blocks my view. She's looking down at me with those big round eyes that I've known from experience means that she's not, in any way, amused about something.

"I was just at your grandparents' house," she says, "and they told me something."

I just blink back at her, hoping this will be over soon, for I like to go back to my favorite fictional TV people.

"You had a boy inside the house this afternoon?" she asks. Her voice is raised a little.

I nod. I know where this is going, and that's not good.

My grandparents' house is three houses to our left, which means the only way they found out about my surprise visitor earlier is if someone from the sari-sari store told them. How can I forget that I live in this part of the world where people know other people, and they mind your business like it's one of theirs?

"Why, and who was it?" my mother asks in the same raised voice.

I straighten up on the couch and tell her the answer upfront. "He just gave me the instructions for the project," I add. "I didn't even let him inside." I point toward the door and the veranda.

"Well...next time, don't let him in when you're here alone, okay? I mean, what will the neighbors think and say?"

"Okay, alright," I mumble.

My mother walks past the TV and out of the living area to disappear into the back of the house or the kitchen. And I slouch again on the couch, lift my feet, and let them settle on the table.

Drunken laughter from the garage fills the air as my father opens the door. He goes further inside and down to the bathroom, bringing the stink of liquor with him as well. His normal Saturday nights involve inviting over two or three or whoever is willing to drink with him until they all get crawling-on-the-floor drunk. I can even count the times when he's sober on a weekend. And I thought my mother told me they don't have money for my shoes, but they obviously have some to host their Saturday regulars, and to buy alcohol.

I turn the TV off, I've already watched that episode anyway. I march to my room and lock the door. I turn on the radio and play whatever tape is inside the player. I adjust the volume to its maximum level. I don't care if it's almost nine in the evening or if the neighbors can hear it.

I lay on my bed, spread my arms to the sides, and stare at the ceiling. Then I close my eyes. And I think back to how good today was before it comes crashing down tonight.

***

There was a typhoon, so we had no school for three consecutive days.

I know some students rejoice when there are class suspensions brought by such weather disturbance, but I don't. Not only because I love school, and any excuse not to spend time in the house alone with my parents, but also because being hit by typhoons mean damages to livelihood. And as someone who lives each day by relying on agriculture, it can hurt a lot. Not many people my age understand that. They just celebrate when things go according to them without even thinking of how the same situation brings wreck to others.