OBSIDIAN ISSUE #2 : WOUNDED

SEVENTEEN

Hindi lang sana short course or workshop ang gusto ko kundi isang full-time course mismo. I found one and it will only take three months. Ang sabi pa ay limited lamang ang slots. They aimed for just twenty people in each class, so I need to submit my form and enroll immediately before it's too late.

"Sa September pa ang klase..." I stated even when she is already reading that part now.

"Full time course for three months?" She guided her tentative gaze towards me. "Why don't you just take Fine Arts then Photography after? I hate to sound like Graciella here, but don't you think your opportunities are limited with only a three month course, Samara?"

"Hindi ba magasto na iyon kung mag-Fine Arts ako?" pangamba ko.

She sighed." Well, kung pangarap na ang pinag uusapan, hindi tayo magtitipid, especially if in the end this will all be worth it for you. Ito ba ang gusto mong gawin?"

Mabagal akong tumango. I'm not sure. I want to pursue this but the financial resources... Hindi na kami kasing yaman ng mga magulang namin. Ayaw ko rin na mapagasto si ate. What if her salary could not keep up with my tuition fee? Not that I am underestimating her head nurse status but this country has its pitfalls that seems to be constructed for her field.

Nagtagal ang titig niya na tila pinag-iisipan ang sasabihin. I levelled it with these patient eyes of mine to let her know that I am willing to listen, whatever her doubts are.

"Iyong pagsusulat mo, ititigil mo na ba talaga? You know... you can take creative writing--"

Isang marahas na iling at yuko ko lang ang tumuldok sa mungkahi niya. Her deep sigh declared the final decision.

"Okay, kung diyan ka masaya..." pagsuko niya at kinuha ang iniwang kape sa kabilang dulo ng island counter para hugasan.

The palpable disappointment in her tone has somehow stroke a slight burn in my chest. Ito na nga ba ang sinasabi ko. Gaano ko pa man kagustong tuparin ang mga pangarap, kung iniilingan naman ng mga nakapaligid sa akin, hinahayaan ko na lang na maging abo ang isang liyab para magsindi ng panibagong alab kung saan hindi naman ako sisiklaban.

For me, one of the ways of getting people to like me is to agree with them, no matter how bad their opinions are. Pero dati iyon, noong hindi pa ako nabubulagan. These past few days, the feeling that I get to care less about it is gradually starting to reach me.

But these thoughts just wander loosely around my head as my gaze lingered on my sister. Ang isang tanong na lagi kong nakakaligtaan na idaan sa kanya ay biglang naligaw sa isip ko.

"How did you get by, ate? After you know... Mommy."

Hindi nakatakas sa akin ang pagkakatigil niya. After several blinks of her deep almond eyes, she resumed her task and casually answered my random question.

"Si Mamita. She knew how her daughter loathed her to the bones. So out of spite, she took me under her wing at siyang nagsustento sa pag-aaral ko hanggang kolehiyo." Mabilis niyang pinaligid ang mga mata sa bahay bago binalikan ang ginagawa. "She used to live here. Nang magkasakit ay lumipat na sa mansion house niya sa Dalaguete. Then there, near the shores where she has always loved to live in peace, passed away without even earning the forgiveness of her one and only daughter."

Though I didn't really hear much about Mamita. Not even once Mother tried to talk about her. Habang si ate noon, sa tuwing binibisita ako nang palihim sa mansyon ay puro masasayang kuwento ang binabanggit kasama si lola. The always resentful Graciella still blamed her mother for their chaos living way back, with the people throwing stones at them because the late and stunning Ludovica Giordano was a mistress of some rich man here in old town Cebu. A half-Italian mistress who came from crazy old money.