The Brighter Side of Things

Chapter 2

"A glass of sago't gulaman would be great, don't you think?"

I pretended not to hear her subtle suggestion and continued tinkering with my phone just to get myself off worrying about the ongoing game. If I said yes, it's synonymous to agreeing to step out of the house and under the glaring sun to buy the dessert. If I'd say no, we'd both melt in this heat and Mama would ask me the same question over and over until I couldn't stand the heat anymore or her slight demand to buy us something cold to eat.

The moment I stepped out of the shade and even with an umbrella flapped open over my head, I almost regretted it. Ot kapale! And the fact that every store nearby that sold palamig already ran out by the time I arrived did not help ebb my growing irritation. But then, I realized something. The only option left was to go to the nearest fast food chain, convenience store, or drop by Aching  Bey's. All of which was in the vicinity of the open courts.

Where the championship game was being held.

Before I realized it, my feet was already leading me to the store near the court. My heart jumped to my throat when I heard a burst of cheers from the open courts. From the sound of it, it looked like it was a blockbuster game.

"Sago't gulaman?" Aching Bey asked the moment I stepped under the eave of her store. Thankful that there was only one customer, I did my best not to make eye-contact or whatever. The less people who knew I was there and rat me out to my brother, the better.

"Three please, 'Ching," I said with a smile.

"Great. We're down to the last servings. I'll check if they're ready." She went out of my sight leaving me to my thoughts and berating myself not to get closer to the game than I already was.

The open courts surrounded by the thick crowd was visible from where I stood. And the crowd going crazy every now and then was too much to ignore. I turned my attention to the other items being sold to distract myself. I even hummed a tune of the first song that came to mind just to block out the noise.

I promised Kuya Six I won't watch. I intended to keep my word.

It was the championship match. A do or die game. Against the still reigning champs Sto. Domingo Comets. For the past three years, the San Rafael Voyagers had tried to strip them off the title. But it was in all in vain. This year, kuya and the rest of the Voyagers doubled their efforts to bring the glass trophy home. I didn't want to ruin that chance by showing my face in the game.

But another thunderous cheer later and I found myself already behind the throng of people who came to the open courts. As I had predicted, it was a box-office hit. Colorful umbrellas of various sizes and flapped open blocked my view that no matter how much I tiptoed, I couldn't catch a glimpse of the score board. On hindsight, maybe that was good. It would be nearly impossible for my brother to know I was there. The smell of sweat was as thick as the crowd and the tension was equally palpable in the air. I trained my ears on the pants and huffs of players, the plays being called by those on the court, hoping that somehow, by merely listening could paint a picture on what went on. But the noise of the people shouting over each other whenever there was a missed basket, a loose ball, a shot drilled in, made that utterly impossible.

Out of other options, I turned to the balding man next to me. He didn't look like he's from the neighborhood either so talking to him was safe. "What's the score?"

Without looking at me, he answered: "Last I heard, 56-55. Comets."

My chest burst with hope. A one-point difference said a lot of things! I knew the lengths that the Voyagers went through– they practiced every day until seven in the evening, every weekend too–just to prepare for this game. I knew because I practiced with them. They gave up going to the mall or to the beach just to win the ever-elusive championship title. And to know that they actually had a chance was a big thing!