Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Radios in Paradise
...Did you sail across the sun?
Did you make it to the Milky Way and see the lights are faded,
That heaven is overrated...
Cynthia turned the radio up. She was hoping to drown out the rest of the world. From their small apartment she could hear the distinct sound of people, teenagers mostly, filling up the walkways of Eastwood, which were usually deserted during the day. The sun was still out and the air was light, summer was coming to an end and teenagers were rushing to make the most of their final days of freedom.
She lazily walked towards the small terrace of their condominium, which overlooked the mall, and leaned against its tarnished railing. She gazed at the girls who were roughly around her age and contemplated why she wasn't part of that swarming group of teenagers who giggled tirelessly, shopped endlessly, and partied like there was no tomorrow. They're just wasting their time. Summer's going to end and there's nothing they can do about it...
Her mom had called earlier in the afternoon to tell her that she was coming home late. "Heat the left-over sinigang from yesterday. You can have that for dinner. I have to work overtime again tonight. We could sure use the money." Her mom sounded distant, she evidently had something else on her mind. "But I had sinigang last night. Can't I just order out?" Cynthia was tired. She really didn't feel like eating. Nevertheless, she was hoping that her mom would get angry. She wanted to hear her mom scold her, as she often did when Cynthia would complain about food and clothing. She hardly did this anymore. Then again, she was never home. "Okay. Fine. Eat what you want to eat. I have to go sweetheart. Don't wait up for me." Click. Her conversation with her mother ended at that.
As she looked down at the other kids her age, who probably had mothers waiting for them to come home, she thought about her own mother, and what she was like before the separation. She always had time for me. They've been separated for almost a year. She should've been okay by now... She imagined the sun slowly retiring behind the skyline. Her thoughts wandered to happier times, when the innocence of childhood shielded her from the harsh and complicated realities of a relationship gone sour. Up until a few years ago, Cynthia couldn't tell. This changed when she was about twelve. The fights began and then became louder and more frequent. When her father left them the silence was deafening, more so than the shrill and booming voices resonating from behind the thin walls and the closed door of her parents' room. She tried then, not to think about their fights. Tomorrow they would kiss and make up. Nothing to worry about. They were provided for amply. Her dad made sure of that. Why her mom had to work her butt off, was beyond her.
"Turn it down!!"
At once, Cynthia turned to look for the voice that sidetracked her train of thought, although, she already knew who it was. It was Matthew, the only person who had the nerve to snap her out of her thoughts. She walked briskly towards the radio and turned it off.
"It's almost seven, aren't you going to eat dinner yet?" he said. "No. How did you get in here anyway?" Cynthia was a little peeved; she really didn't feel like talking to anyone today. I know you're my best friend but you can’t just waltz in here and... "The door wasn't locked." he said flatly. "Oh. Sorry." Cynthia picked up the newspapers from their couch and made room for them to sit down. "What do you want?" she asked. "Nothing, I was just wondering if you wanted to watch a movie." Matthew looked at her, hoping she'd say yes. Cynthia didn't hear him. She was still looking out the window, the sun had set and the sky was growing dark. "Hello? Is this how you treat all your guests?" At once, Cynthia looked at him and smiled. The look on his face was so amusing, that she couldn't help herself and she started laughing. "What's so funny? I'm serious! Do you want to watch a movie with me or not?" he said lightly, but deep down, he was becoming impatient with Cynthia. "I'm sorry," she regained her composure and swallowed hard. "I really don’t feel like going out tonight, maybe some other time." Matthew looked into her eyes, as if searching for some other reason why his best friend couldn't go out with him tonight. "Fine. I'll go by myself. Next time, lock your door when you don’t want anyone to bother you. Okay?" "Okay. Thanks anyway, Mat." She said to him as he stood up. "Yeah, yeah. Later." He walked towards the door and closed it behind him.
Matthew made his way to the elevator and pushed the down button. "What's wrong with her?" he asked himself. Growing up with Cynthia wasn't easy. It was a far cry from what most people experience during their first years of childhood. Most kids played on the streets, while he and Cynthia played along the halls of their units. Matthew would never forget the nights when he'd sleep over at Cynthia's when they were just eleven years old. They often heard Cynthia's parents fighting in the next room. "Well who is she?!" they would hear Cynthia's mom scream. Cynthia's dad would start cussing and throwing things against the wall. This was when Matthew would cup his hands over Cynthia's ears. He knew what those words meant and Cynthia didn't have to hear them. Ding. Matthew looked up and saw five or six people waiting for him inside the elevator. "Sorry." He mumbled, as he got on.
After Matthew left, Cynthia went into her room to get her journal. The last week of summer was coming to an end. While other teenagers spent their summer partying and having a good time, Cynthia spent her summer writing in her journal. She was proud of her journal. Since her parents got separated, she thought that keeping a journal would help her deal with all the "drama" in her life. Too much drama... She didn't have anyone else to turn to and Matthew would never understand. She went back to the terrace, turned on the light outside and sat down on the floor, which was covered by a native mat her dad bought for her when he went to Samar. The light flickered. I have to remember to change that... Above the city lights, Cynthia saw the dull light from the moon and the soft sparkle of the stars. She was captivated. There was something serene about being 40 floors from the ground, and seeing nothing but the skyline of a city that was thriving with life.
She started scribbling in her journal. Cynthia never wrote anything trivial in her journal, like, what she did that day, what made her happy, what made her sad? She never really paid much attention to these things because after all, what was the use? Instead she wrote down her observations. She loved watching people go about their day. In fact, she spent most of her summer sitting on empty chairs at the mall, watching people go about their daily lives. During Sunday afternoons, when her mom was busy sleeping, Cynthia would go down to the small park in the middle of the mall, where she'd see fathers playing with their sons and mothers playing with their daughters. Cynthia never really missed her father. He was a good man. He was righteous, hardworking, all the things a provider should be. But he was barely there when little Cynthia was growing up. She saw him around and everything, but the father-daughter relationship that was supposed to exist between them never developed. For one thing, Cynthia never experienced playing with her father in the park during Sunday afternoons. It was always her mom who would pick her up from school when there was an emergency. The only "quality time" she remembers spending with her father was when he first taught her how to ride a bike. It was hard for her because she always looked down, as her dad pointed out. "Just look up, straight ahead and pedal hard so you can gain enough speed to balance. Don't look anywhere else, or you'll fall down. All you need is focus." ...and to think, the hardest thing I had to deal with then was learning not to fall...
The first day of school had finally arrived. Cynthia felt the anxiety in the air. The girls were all yelping at the sight of their friends, whom they had spent the entire summer with. The boys were doing the same. Cynthia didn't let any of this affect her. She walked into the school as if she never left it. The only thing different about this year was that it was to be their final year in high school and Cynthia couldn't wait.
As she made her way through the swarm of teenagers, most of whom she remembered seeing at the mall only last week, she felt a hand squeeze her shoulder. She turned around and was face to face with Matthew, all sweaty and looking pretty distressed. "What happened to you?" Cynthia asked mockingly. "I can't find a locker! When I went to the one they assigned me, some girl was already loading it with books and junk." he said irritably. “AND she was Chinese and she said something like 'not talking the English'. She's a new kid, so I let it slide and went on to look for an empty one." "That's it? You worry too much." Cynthia wasn't surprised Matthew didn't have a lot of friends. He was too geeky. But she liked him because he wasn't like everyone else. That's only because I grew up with him, that's how I know he’s different... The bell rang and the large mass of students started buzzing even louder. "We better go before they start attacking." Matthew said. Cynthia smirked; it was precisely that witty attitude of Matthew that made him worth talking to. Together they walked quickly away from the crowd, not wanting to get swallowed up in a sea of perky, preppy faces.
"Oh come on." Matthew whined. He was driving home with Cynthia. "I told you we shouldn't have passed Libis. We're going to be stuck here all afternoon." she said with a hint of pride in her voice, glad that she knew enough about the city streets to suggest alternate routes to their condo. "It's not like you have anything better to do." Matthew said as he looked at Cynthia, who was looking outside her window. "Why do I even bother." He sighed and turned on the radio.
...She listens like spring
And she talks like June
Yeah, yeah, yeah...
"Hey, wasn’t this the song playing...?" "Drops of Jupiter," Cynthia cut him off. "What?" Matthew asked. “It's by Train I think," Cynthia answered. "Oh, right. So, why have you been dead lately?" he asked her. Cynthia turned to look at him, "What do you mean?" she asked. “You've been kind of...spacey," he said. "I have?" she asked him. Cynthia hadn't really noticed. But now that it was coming from Matthew, she had to believe it. He's the only person who knows her well enough to say that. She tried to remember when she started feeling like this. As if nothing in the world surprised her anymore. She concluded that this must've started when her mom first decided to go back to work. Cynthia tried to remember the night when Matthew came over and asked her if she wanted to go out. That's what he asked me, right? She couldn't remember if she answered him. "I have. I’m sorry." She looked at him and for the first time in months, she looked at him directly in the eyes. It was as if she was seeing him for the first time in weeks. Although Matthew was her "only friend", she never really saw him as anything more. He was like a brother to her. No more, no less. Matthew smiled, "Nah, forget about it. You're probably just going through a mid-teen crisis or something." "Yeah, probably. Hey, it's moving."
...Can you imagine no love, pride, deep fried chicken?
Your best friend always sticking up for you
Even if I know you’re wrong...
The radio played on as the car began to move.
They reached their condominium at around five-thirty. "And so I say to him, you're an ass. No one would ever vote for you for class president," Matthew said as they got on the elevator. "So that's it? That's how you decided to run for class president?" Cynthia asked him, amused. "Well, you never know right? I'm a good guy. Everyone likes me... maybe," he answered, after he pressed the button numbered 40. Everyone knows they can push you around, that's for sure. You're just too nice... "Yeah. But, don't you think it'll be too much? Our class is pretty unruly," she asked him. "I suppose. But it'll look good on my college application form," he answered. Typical Mat... "Then you should go for it," Cynthia answered. The elevator doors opened and they stepped out. "I guess I'll see you later Mat," she said. Their apartments were on opposite sides of the level. Cynthia's apartment was on the left side of the building and Matthew's was on the right. "And by that you mean, tomorrow morning. Right. Later!" and he went the opposite way.
When Cynthia reached the door to their apartment, she took out her keys to unlock the door. To her surprise, it was already open. Wow. She's home. Cynthia walked in, dropped her bag on the dining table and took off her shoes. "Is that you sweetheart?" she heard her mom say from inside her room. "Yeah. What are you doing in my room? You didn't come home last night, did you?" Cynthia said as she walked to her bedroom. When she got there, her eyes widened at what she saw. All her books were scattered on her bed. "What are you doing?!" she asked her mother angrily. "Nice to see you too," her mother said as she looked up and smiled at her daughter. She was wearing an old pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt and was sitting on Cynthia's bed, browsing through Cynthia’s books. "Those are mine. I fixed those already. What are you doing?" Cynthia asked her mother. "My shrink says I should read more. I'm just looking to see if you have any books I might like," her mother answered as she read the back cover of one of Cynthia's favorite novels. "I didn’t come home last night because I was too tired. I spent a quarter of my shift talking to a man who went nuts because he claimed that he was charged five thousand pesos for a refrigerator he didn't buy." "Well it’s almost six, shouldn't you be leaving for work again?" Cynthia asked her mother. She didn't care about her mom's excuses anymore. Cynthia's mom looked up at her daughter. "I don't leave for work until seven-thirty," she said, and gave her daughter a narrow look. "So how was school?" she asked. "Fine," Cynthia said as she started to rearrange her books. "Okay. And what about you? Everything okay? You seem different. Well, at least you look thinner. Boys your age aren't attracted to "jiggly bits'." If that was your attempt to make me feel closer to you, then it so did not work... "Look, would you just leave? I have a lot to do," Cynthia said crossly. She was tired of her mom always acting like leaving her own daughter at home was okay. Her mom stood up, walked over to her daughter, and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry I messed up your books. I'll go." And she walked out of her daughter's room thinking about how grown up her daughter had become.
"Check this out! The school is sponsoring a Pen-a-Province Pal Program. Do you want to sign-up?" Matthew asked Cynthia as they walked to their usual lunch table. "Where'd you get that flier? I don't see anyone else holding one," she asked him. "That's because I've been sucking up to the principal's secretary. I figured, I better start since I'm going to be president and all." "You can't be serious," Cynthia laughed. "Oh but I am," he said as he handed her a flier. "I promised her I'd distribute some. Please tell me you'll at least think about it. I have to give more of these away." Matthew stood up and started giving out fliers. "Who knows? You just might meet someone who would understand you, city slicker!!" the flier read enthusiastically. I just might. Hell, why not?
"So, are you going to sign up?" Matthew asked when he got back to their table. He gave her a sheet of paper with only three names written on it, with corresponding addresses. "Yeah, sure. It'll give me something to do," Cynthia said as she wrote down her own mailing address.
The first letter from Cynthia's pen-pal arrived on the first week of July. It was Saturday night and Cynthia's mother wasn’t home again. After eating another left-over meal for dinner alone, Cynthia went to the terrace to read the letter her pen-pal sent her.
July 7, 2006
Dear Cynthia,
Thank you for your letter. I would love to be your friend. My name is Lorna and I am from a small baryo in Pampanga. I have three sisters and two brothers. I am the eldest. Both of my parents are farmers, which means we really don’t have much. If you wish to send us some canned goods or money, we would very much appreciate it. Thank you.
Your new friend,
Lorna
After reading the letter, Cynthia looked up at the clear night sky. The moon looked fuller this time around, brighter as well. She imagined Lorna, sitting on a carabao in their field, looking up at the same moon and the same sky. Only, she thought, her sky must be ten times clearer. It's that hard down there, huh? Well sorry Lorna, I don't have much but I could sure use someone to talk to... "Looking up at your moon again, I see?" Cynthia turned around and saw Matthew standing by the door. "Hey. Come in. I got a letter from my Province Pal. I didn't write her, why did she thank me?" "The school sent a formatted letter to all the other Province Pal applicants, that's probably why," he answered as he closed the door and walked in. "Oh. Okay. She asked me for money though. I'm just going to write to her, if that's okay," Cynthia said. "No problem. So, what's with you and the moon? You're always losing yourself when you look at it," Matthew asked her. "I don't know. I just admire the fact that it can stand out in a sky full of stars," she answered. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, raising one of his eyebrows. "Well, the fact that early philosophers taught that it symbolized life, growth and death is pretty cool too" she said, trying to explain. "Yeah. I never knew that. Anyway, I better go. I just came by to thank you for signing up. Make sure you write back to your friend okay?" he said. "No problem. Later, Mat," Cynthia said as Matthew walked towards the door. Cynthia grabbed her journal from her room and went straight to the terrace. She sat down and started writing. Dear Lorna...
It was the third Sunday of July. After hearing mass at the mall with her mom, Cynthia told her that she would stay behind for a while. "I can stay too, you know," Cynthia's mom offered. "No. You don't have to," Cynthia quickly countered. "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Okay. Don't take too long." And she walked away.
Cynthia went over to the playground, which she hasn't visited for a while now. She sat down on one of the empty benches. She gazed intently at a father pushing his daughter on a swing. She looked at how happy the little girl was. I never had that and I turned out alright... She turned to leave the playground.
July 28, 2006
Dear Cynthia,
Thank you again for your letter. I appreciate how much you want to help me and my family. Listen, I am sorry you feel this way. For what it is worth, you are not alone. I can tell that you are a very deep person. You are a thinker, which is good. I am more of a worker. Here in the province life is simple. We have what we need to survive. And yes, the sky here is much clearer. Maybe you should come and visit me some time. My father would like you. He likes to think a lot too.
Your friend,
Lorna
Cynthia's mom walked wearily to the door of their apartment. It was eight-forty-five and the bright sun was shining on a beautiful Saturday morning. She had just finished her nightshift. She was tired and she just wanted to sleep. Cynthia's probably in school, she thought after she got in to find the apartment empty. She walked to her bed and immediately fell asleep once her head was rested on her pillow.
By the time she woke up it was already two in the afternoon. Still thinking that it was a school day, Cynthia's mom decided to surprise her daughter with merienda when she got home. "She'll love that. We can talk and catch up. Just like old times," she thought to herself. She went out to buy a pint of Ben and Jerry's Choco Fudge Ice Cream, Cynthia's favorite. At least, that used to be her favorite.
Cynthia's mom got home at around three-thirty. She decided to buy more groceries in the supermarket and so she was held back. "Cynthia?" she said as she poked her head into her daughter's room to check if she was there. "Still not here. Good. That will give me time to prepare."
At seven in the evening, Matthew rang the doorbell to Cynthia's apartment. He did not see her in school the day before, and he didn't hear from her at all today. Cynthia's mother opened the door. The worried look on her face vanished instantly when she saw Matthew. "Matthew? Where's Cynthia?" she asked him happily. She even stepped out to see if her daughter was in the hallway. No one else was there. Matthew was alone. "I thought she was sick. She wasn't in school yesterday so I came here to check up on her. Is she okay?" he asked her, with a hint of concern. "No. She's not here," Cynthia's mother answered apprehensively. Their eyes met. Matthew's heart almost stopped beating. And Cynthia's mother felt a knot tighten in her stomach. At that moment, both were silent. They both knew Cynthia well enough to know that if she wasn't in school, she'd be at home. Right now, they did not know where she was. "She's probably just at the mall," Matthew said reassuringly. Cynthia's mother breathed deeply. "I'll just wait for her to come home then. I'll tell her you passed by."
Matthew went back to their apartment. He went to their terrace to get some air. Their terrace wasn't bare. It had two wooden chairs, a table, and an old radio. Matthew sat down on one of the chairs. His heart was pounding, and he was breathing heavily. He turned on the radio; he needed something to help him relax. He did not know where Cynthia was. But he knew she was okay. It was the first week of August. The moon was out. The night was clear and peaceful. And somehow, he knew that Cynthia was looking up at the night sky, thinking the exact same thing. The radio played on.
...Did the wind sweep you off your feet?
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day and head back to the Milky Way?
Did Venus blow your mind?
Was it everything you wanted to find?
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there...
