Blank Canvas

Chapter Twelve

Summary: Talia and her mom argued because of Mia's actions. Celia comforted her sister, but Talia refused to acknowledge an unraveling reality that was unfolding in their lives.

"Mom, I did not tell Mia to do that. I swear."

When I came home, I had a feeling that something was going on and I was right. My instinct never fails me.

That morning, Tim came over for breakfast. He was in his boring striped blue tie, as usual. I sat stonily on my chair as he cooked a traditional Filipino breakfast for us. He made fried brown rice with garlic and egg, marinated some blue mackerel scads that he pan-fried with some olive oil and chopped some tomatoes with salted eggs. He also brought warm pan de sal from the corner bakery.

The smell made my mouth water but I told my mom that I did not want a heavy breakfast so I opted for a small muffin and a glass of fruit and yogurt smoothie that Celia made.

As Mom ate happily with Tim, I grew quiet. Celia was placid. Mia was also withdrawn which was strange because among the three of us, she was the most tolerant of Tim and of him becoming a part of our family. That did not surprise me because Mia was chatty with anybody who would want to talk. The customers at Mom's shop adored her. She was extremely extroverted, at times to the extent of being prolix. But she was six years old. She could get away with almost anything including being a motor mouth.

I left early to get away from Tim and my mom. As I walked on my way to the railway station in Quezon Avenue, I thought of the scene that morning.

Mom was acting like an adolescent and devoted ladylove in a novel romance, which in my mind I did not know that she could be. It was not because she was not affectionate with Dad. She was, but she also knew how to restrain herself. Now, it seemed that all the limits and controls were discarded out of the window.

An hour after I arrived home from school, Mom strode over to where I lounged in my bed. I was sketching with my colored pencils, which were a gift from Jay. Last month, we went to a bookshop to see the book sculpture of Mike Stilkey and the murals of Herakut. We explored on our own and when we met again on our way out, he had the pencils for me and I had Jeffrey Brown's Goodnight Darth Vader book in my hand. We laughed at how reciprocal our wavelengths were. It should be creepy but it did not feel that way.

I was drawing nothing specific, only offhand and shapeless scribbles.

Mom told me that Tim had an important client meeting that day. When he opened his briefcase, his documents and contracts were not inside. Instead, all that he saw was a chewed-up, mouse-shaped toy and a ratty ball of yarn. It was not hard to arrive at the conclusion that Mia did it. Her prank was far from a cryptogram that needed decryption.

"You may not have told her to do the actual thing but your little sister's mind is a sponge."

"What do you mean?" I continued to scribble, not looking up from drawing.

"I had a conversation with Mia. She told me that you dislike Tim. She said she dislike him too, because of you. That's why she did what she did."

Mom stood over me, her voice was gentle despite what happened.

"Give Mia some credit, Mom. She's six and impressionable but she's smart." I picked up the orange and red colored pencils and continued, "I'm allowed to feel what I feel. She's allowed to feel how she feels." I changed into a sitting position and said in a willful voice, "I do not like Tim. Mom, just because you said yes to him does not follow that I said the same thing. I will talk to Mia. But that's it." I looked away.

I felt Mom as she sat beside me. "Talia, he's trying so hard. For you and your sisters to like him. Give him a chance. That's all I'm asking."

"He doesn't have to make an effort." In my mind, it was futile. I would never see Tim as anything more than a intruder who came into our lives one day, made himself comfortable and decided to stay. He would marry my mom but I would never consider him as family. I was not being difficult. I was being truthful. If Mom cared, if she really cared, she would not have forced us to be in this grueling situation. Instead, Mom chose this.