Saturday came and my whole morning was spent packing a few things for my overnight stay back with my parents in Malibu. Weekends are always for family and this was no different. I'm lucky enough to be living just an hour away so seeing them wouldn't feel so much like a chore.
A few clothes, textbooks, and my laptop were some of the few essentials I knew I had to bring so I did. Stuffing them into a suitcase and leaving LA for a little bit of quiet in a suburb Malibu, right next tot he ocean. We were lucky enough to buy a house there let me tell you that. With two golden retrievers and a husky, that house is a place of absolute serenity. Leaves me no reason to hate going back.
When I arrived, mom and dad greeted me with their big warm smiles with our three dogs coming to greet me like an old friend. I surely missed all of them and I couldn't wait to leave all my troubles behind even if it's just for a while.
I know Danica had never been a fan of my parents because she knew how much they despised her after knowing how much she's changed. She hated when I'd go back home but I'd argue that it was essential for me to have some time alone with my family and thankfully, she understood. But then again, I understood her attitude towards my family; I knew sometimes they can get a little opinionated.
The day went by and it was spent with mom and dad asking me about my studies, my current grades, my early applications to some of the most prestigious medical schools, and everything about school. As per usual, they checked up on my projects, schoolwork but barely touched on my band. It's pretty much the norm whenever I came home. Their interests are focused on my academic rulings and I definitely didn't mind. After all, a little compliment from my mother is a little bit of an ego boost.
We called some of our relatives back in the Philippines and they told us all about the large birthday parties they were so accustomed to. They spoke about the scorching weather and the mildly infuriating politics. Then with me, they asked me more so on my academia. I was happy to tell them and they received it well by teasing me about being the richest Collins in all of the land. Being the pride of the family.
I would laugh nervously thinking about it, just imagine the pressure but the pool in the backyard provided a safe place for me to dip in mt toes and let my mind loose.
I always hated talking about myself and hearing their expectations of me. It scares me and it isn't such a comforting thing to know that all my family is riding on me to provide for them in the near future; to be the model. They want my cousins to look up to me and considering I don't have siblings, I really have no choice but to fulfill that role for them.
Would it have been different if I wasn't alone?
Dinner came and I offered to cook. Mum always scolded me for learning how to cook late in my years. She'd always want me to spend hours upon hours on the kitchen cooking whatever it was that she wanted me too. Pasta, steak, Filipino food, and everything else. Though I wasn't a big fan of cooking, she made it a point that a woman must know how to cook. I may be wrong in thinking that, that is quite a sexist outlook but I couldn't say much more because my dad feels the same too.
"So, back in the office, Tiffany kept complaining about the lower rates from orders and all. Mr. Jense caught her once and he flipped out. I guess she deserved it though. I mean, who goes around complaining about statistics; she clearly knew too little to even mutter about it, " I heard my mother laugh as I placed ou roast in the table.
"Well, you know people this day. Absolutely stupid sometimes, " dad answered, drinking his tea while scrolling through his phone.
Having a shoe business really doesn't make him a good company at dinners; we understand though.
Considering that he's a 40-year-old man with a small shoe business. With his dark brown eyes and impeccably conservative fashion that includes button-ups and plaid shirts; I'm putting my bet on the fact that he's always busy.
"Evie, I bet all your classmates are gushing about all your incredible achievement from last year wouldn't you think so honey, " mom turned to dad and he nods, looking up at me with expectant eyes.
"I...I mean I'm sure they are mom but I wouldn't really know, classes have changed." I smiled weakly, sitting down on the table and preparing for dinner.
"I bet they are. I'm sure they've never seen such a student excel like you."
"Mom, " I chuckled, "there are a lot of brilliant people on campus, I'm sure they've seen better."
"Well, then I hope you're still striving to be on top, as always. I know you like being the best." She sips on her wine as I lightly filled my plate with the food. Some pasta fettuccine, a slice of the steak, and of course, the gravy.
My heart raced as I watched dad slice into the stake, hoping that he is satisfied with my cooking.
I glance at them every now and then as I awaited fo their reactions. It's always that little side-eyes and nose scrunches that I knew what I did could've been better. They are perfectionists and I get that, though that too can make them into judgemental politicians who like to rule the house under their own amendments. It's quite scary, to be honest.
Mom moves her darkened hair back, carefully placing the fork in her mouth; trying not to smudge her perfectly applied nude lipstick. I gulped in anticipation until we hummed with a satisfied smile.
"You're getting better with the cooking Jane, " I hear dad compliment and I breathed out in relief. I hate that name.
"Thanks, Dad," I said, not wanting to argue with whatever he wanted to call me.
"Still a little bit too rare, " mother objected and my face falls, "but definitely better."
She looked at me with a ginger smile, a proud gaze almost there but not quite. My lips faltered and I continue eating, merely losing my appetite anyway.
I should be used to this by now, I've lived with them my whole life, and yet, their criticism always sounds like they're coming from a critique—not a parent. To a child like me, that hurts like hell. A needle to the heart is what it feels like every time but, nothing I can do about it but just listen.
I've always wondered why mom and dad never married or why I stayed with my mother's maiden name instead of my father's Fernandez. Then I realized if these two had married, then they would've failed each other in an instant.
My mom is a perfectionist and my dad is a business-minded person who works in an office all day. She's financially driven and he's always about making money. If mom didn't get her share, they'd fight like there's no tomorrow until he gives up. If they had to share each other's rules, then one of them would've been long dead. At the very least, not having a title and a bonding document would make things more relaxed between them.
Unfortunately though, I'm the one who had to follow their rules.
"So, " mum starts, taking me out of my thoughts as she placed her spoon down. "Evangeline, you called me on Thursday night, troubled by something and I think we should talk about it, "
Right, I did that.
I take a sharp breath to compose myself before looking back up at her and my dad with a faint smile. Dad seemed to be filled up about the situation considering how he looked at me with much suspicion.
"Mom, I was telling the truth." I started, "I really didn't have anything going on, I was a little bit stressed and just wanted to check up on you.". I said.
When you're with people like these, you learn to lie like a criminal.
They both studied me for a second, sending each other looks of question and suspicion but they nod anyway.
"Evangeline, you know that if there is something going on you could always tell us." Father sipped on his drink and I nod.
"I know, " I sighed, "it's just that school is only getting harder and it will continue to follow that trend, but I'm really trying my best to not be too caught up. I promise."
"There aren't any boys involved is there?"
Yes.
"No, of course not." I chuckled.
"Good, " mom smiled, "remember, boys will only provide you conditional services but never give you life. You have to fend for yourself first before you find someone. And of course, in doing so, you better look for the decent once. A good man will always pleasure you but a great one will give you everything you want."
"Yes, of course, mom, " I said, finishing up my plate with my palms sweating and my heart racing in discomfort.
"That's right. Your mother would never have stated with me if I didn't give her the world, " Dad laughed and we joined him, although something tells me that wasn't all but a joke.
"Oh, and how's that rowdy roommate of yours?" Dad asked and I frowned.
"Danica?"
"Yes, that one. With her disgusting shirts and weed smelling perfume, " dad pondered and I clench my jaw.
"She's good, she's never been a bother like I've said before."
"With a girl like that? Oh, she is definitely a bad influence." Mom said as I took a sip of water, "you haven't been going to parties with her have you?"
With the water halfway into my mouth, I almost dropped the glass and choked in myself. Almost.
"N..no! God no..." I defended quite dramatically causing dad to raise his brows.
"Well, good, I wouldn't want to hear my daughter going to parties getting high and drunk." He continued and I feel my guts turn.
A few more conversations about their minor success, dinner finished and they both retired to their rooms. I, on the other hand, was left cleaning up and placing the dishes on the dishwasher. I always do that anyway and I'm sure they're tired of working.
Finally having the living space to myself, I stayed for a bit hanging out by the pool as it's ambient blue light illuminated my feet that's dipped on the luke-warm water.
Without the nagging of my mother from how much weight I had put on, I could finally enjoy the soft rustling of the trees or the sticky air from the warm morning weather. The sound of lullabies being sung by crickets while fireflies illuminated in the distance, dancing like fairies near the ocean. Calm and tranquility are whenever I'm alone and I try my best to enjoy it just as much.
However, after this eventful week, I'm afraid that my thoughts won't ever be progressing nor will I ever feel alone.
After a guy had entered my life like a visitor without permission, I have never felt truly alone. My thoughts of him would either frustrate me, terrify me, sadden me, or perplex me. Either or, he seems to always find a way back. Always.
Having been reminded, I take out the paper I have kept with me and brought it with me. The paper he gave me after the second match we had.
I unfold it from my pocket, squinting slightly just to read the little writings:
What is reality?
A perplexing question that had lead many to believe that since it is quite in-depth and abysmal, no correct answer could be provided. I prefer to differ.
You see reality in mundane things. From chocolate brown eyes to the passionate mind of a stranger. From a simple red cup to a dress. You could say reality is everywhere.
To me, however, the reality is pain. A man without pain is like a demon without horns. Pain is what makes things go-round. Every prick of a needle, every heartbreak, every voice crack. The smallest of pains is still a reality for without it, a life would be death. An incompatible era of nothingness and naivety.
Truth is pain. And people hate the truth.
Though I have to say, this letter is more intellectual than I have expected. More reason to find Matteo a perplexing man.