I HEAR YOU

XX: SOFIA

"This feels like the one in the movies."

The waves. It's near. Still not enough to break the serenity of the night. It's as if they sing. With the breeze.

"It's not a date."

A voice grumbling in response.

"It still feels like one though."

A giggle. My giggles.

Why do I sound so happy?

"Not at all."

The grumbling voice of unknown emotions sounded like a whisper but it didn't go unheard of. There was even more fits of giggles that accompanied the irritated groans. There was a silence that followed. The only sounds heard is sound of even breathing. The breeze softly urging the coconut trees to glide in rhythmic tones along with the waves. I'm at the beach again.

With him.

I'm happy. I sound happy. Ecstatic even. I can't help but feel that I must have done something mischievous today.

"You can't sneak out again."

His voice came out forced. As if he struggled to scold me.

"Why not?"

My voice was soft and curious. A hint of sadness laced the words uttered.

"It's already late in the evening. When your parents find out that you're not in your room, they won't be happy."

His voice now sounded so calm.

"Will Carl be happy?"

My voice retorted. A firm resolution of never backing down. I must have been a tough nut to crack.

"Wa----w----what?"

His voice sounded strained.

"Carl must not be happy to know that you sneaked out late at night."

My voice stated like it was something trivial.
"Yes, she won't be."

His voice whispered.

"I miss Granna."

My voice wavered.

Am I crying?

"Sometimes I envy you having to spend more time with your grandmother."

My voice was soft. It was like a confession. For him. Alone.

"My what?"

His voice was not loud but the hint of shock and panic was clear.

"Your grandmother."

My voice was plain but it isn't anything sour or unpleasant at all. And then, a laughter so loud echoed throughout the shore. The laughter wasn't boastful or anything mockingly. For the seconds my ears had felt as if a warm feeling trickled down towards my chest and my entire body clothed from against the cold of the night.

Why does it feel this way?

"What's funny?"

My voice had found itself asking.

"The grandmother I know didn't even witness my birth Iya."

His voice still finding my fault funny snorted at the end of his words. A short silence followed before a soft 'Oh' left my mouth again.

"Carl's not my grandmother."

He sighed. It wasn't sad. Or mad. It's relief. Of the loss or of the indifference, I cannot tell. But I spoke no more. Perhaps it was comfortable enough for both of us. Our breathing synching with the waves and the breeze.