Anna Bea D. Geronga, 2012 24195 Prof. Charlson OngBA Creative Writing CW 111, !"O0#$0%$2015 &hir' Draft"ana(When I was little, I thought my mother was plump and dark-skinned.I remember seeking warmth in flabby arms and waves of fat that made ripples when I rushed in for a tight embrace, burying my face in her chest, laying my head on her lap, sucking on the sweet juice of santan as she made me a crown of the tiny red flowers. She told me stories of a different world where the moon was the sun and all the creatures were one, where the tinkling of the bells meant home. And sang me lullabies in a foreign tongue that made my heart flutter, her silvery voice, clear and light. I remember kissing her full cheeks, smelling the earth inher hair, giggling as she whispered again and again, kay gandang bata.!And I replied, I love you, "anay.!#he images played out, repeatedly, in my mind$s eye, in my dreams, in spates. "ever losing color. %ut the woman in them never looked like my mother. &y )other was thin and fair, a mesti'a with delicate features, slim nose and ha'el eyes, so unlike the big woman in my mind with her flat nose and dark brown ( almost black ( eyes. %ut to a five-year old, she was beautifulall the same.I thought "anay brought me into this world. %ut I was wrong because another woman, thin and fair, scooped me in her arms and cooed baby.! And for years, I thought I made her all up, that she was an imaginary being created in solitude by a child with far too much time on her hands. %ut I always saw the memories, always had dreams about her, and never once did they feel contrived. #hey felt real.1And years later, &ama would reveal to me, offhandedly, that when she was still a stewardess gone for long periods of time, before #ito &onching came along, I had a yaya who I called "anay )ecilia and I rarely left her side, much to &ama$s annoyance.*er little anecdote cleared up a lot of muddled thoughts, but it too opened a can of wormsI can$t seem to shake off. +es, the woman is real and I$m not delusional. %ut why do I remember her so vividly, Why her, What$s so special about her, Is it the warmth of her embrace, #he sweetness in her voice,And every once in a while, I wonder, why did she leave me when I was never a brat, I was goo'.And I still am, I think. Always in line. Always following orders.-eave that music club of yours, whatever that is. It$s eating too much of your time.!+es, &ama.!.o straight home after school. +our #ito &onching$s coming home.!+es, &ama.!Is that what you$re wearing, +ou look bloated in that dress. )hange.!+es, &ama.!We need to cut your hair. A bob would wonderfully frame your face.!+es, &ama.!We should bring you to the derma. &aybe /r. Abraham can do something about those pimples.!+es, &ama.!-ose a few more pounds, sweetie. *ow would you ever fit in your gown,!+es, &ama.!2Starve yourself.! "ot necessarily &ama$s order, but more of a suggestion, hinted at, but never said so e0plicitly.Since I was a little girl, &ama has made it her life$s purpose to make a duplicate out of me. %ut genetics was tricky, and I got all the disgusting traits of the family. &y appetite got in the way and I grew fatter and fatter. &ama was fair, thin and dainty, a conventional beauty for a mesti'a, while I was brown and a little too meaty, with a nose far too flat and lips far too thin to look like her daughter. &y mother found me hideous to look at, I remind her so much of her ownfather whom she hated and never spoke of. She said so herself, plainly, when her lips were loose and her mouth reeked of chico, I was hiding in a corner swallowing my tears.&alaking bulas just like my father. She looks like him too. %ad genes skip a generation, you see. &y daughter isn$t so lucky.!#here was malice in her voice and so much anger as she shuffled the tiles along with her kumares.And so here I am, at the dinner table munching on carrots and celery sticks at &ama$s command. After years, the carrots had lost their sweetness on my taste buds, the celery sticks hadlost their aromatic flavor. 1ven the crispy sound they make at every bite had lost its appeal. #he carrots taste like earth, and the celery sticks, water, rubbery. I chew until they turn to mush in mymouth, 2uickly washing them down with water soon after.#he shrill ringing of the bell takes me by surprise. &ama, as she leafs through her maga'ines, gestures to -ani, our maid to answer the door.3inally,! &ama says under her breath, looking at the watch on her wrist, studded and heavy, a gift from #ito &onching. And I wonder if her delicate wrist would break under the weight of all those white gold and diamonds.3#he moment the door$s opened, I hear the wind chimes at the doorstep and catch sight of the blinding light from the sun piercing our home. I look at its direction, the doorframe like a gaping mouth, only bright and sunlit, ten meters from where I am. With one hand covering my eyes, I stare and wait for someone to step in. I would never have imagined of all people that it would be her. "anay )ecilia.I feel coldness ran along my spine, and the baby hair on my arms stand on end. It$s just like seeing a ghost.She$s standing there with a bayong in one hand and a shabby bag on the other, in a blouseand long skirt. *er hair in a neat bun, all salt and pepper wires. #hey used to be long, black and curly, wild on her head. %ut it$s been years and it almost feels like a lifetime since. She looks so much older and frailer as if death is upon her. Somehow something clenches in my chest. Something hurts.&ama suddenly stands and motions to "anay )ecilia to come inside. #hey meet each other halfway in the living room, at the center of the open space. &ama gliding while "anay )ecilia limping, half-dragging one leg as she meets &ama in a hug. &y mother looks like a slight girl being enveloped in her flabby arms. She$s encased in her warmth and all of a sudden I$m envious and furious. %ut I can$t move.I force myself to walk towards them, careful of my steps and movements as one is in front of strangers.She almost looks like a stranger but my senses know better. &y eyes recogni'e her face, the dark brown ( almost black ( eyes, the flat nose, the thin lips, the full cheeks, the hefty bosom, and the overall plumpness. &y eyes notice the way her eyes flutter as she gathers my 4mother in a hug, drawing her scent in, her flat nose flaring, her tongue peeking as she licks her lips.&anang )ecilia4! &ama s2ueals.&a$am,! &anang says in a tempered tone, her voice pleasant and familiar. 5n her lips a ghost of a smirk. And I hear her voice faintly in my ears. On*e +,on a ti)e-She turns to me and the smirk morphs into a smile that makes my knees buckle, and I feelthe air leaving my body. I see the wrinkles around her eyes, around her mouth, the missing tooth and I see "anay. And I feel sad and happy and just a tad bit numb. She seems so far away from so long ago, so I take wary steps and give her a nod because I don$t know this woman. +et she seems to see right through me. Something gnaws at my insides and I 2uickly dismiss it as pangs of hunger. I clutch at my stomach, and I see the old woman$s brows furrow and her lips curl into a frown.%ut the e0pression 2uickly disappears at the lilt of &ama$s voice.&anang, it$s &eggie4! &ama grabs hold of my arm and yanks me to her side. &y daughter. #he little girl. Well, not so little now.!+es, &a$am. She has grown into a beautiful young woman.!Bea+tif+l. .a( gan'ang /ata.Suddenly, I$m a child cocooned in her arms, my cheeks being peppered with kisses, my wrists wearing bracelets made of santan. &ama turns to me, /on$t you remember her, sweetie, &anang took care of you when you were a baby.!5I nod, not knowing e0actly how to act in front of her for I do remember almost everythingwith ama'ing clarity. #he warmth in her eyes and the sweetness in her voice. I hear the beating of my heart, pounding like a drum.&anang, I$m just so happy that you can be our cook again. Imagine my surprise when you contacted me and asked for the job just when our last cook, Aling )honi, left for the province.!A coincidence,! says she with a twinkle in her eye.And I hear my stomach grumble. 3or a split second, I see her look straight at my belly, with those furrowed brows and frown. She couldn$t have possibly heard6+ou$re just right in time. &eggie will be celebrating her eighteenth birthday a few months from now. She would be a lady then, and as society dictates, a proper introduction$s a must. And all my kumares will be there. %ut before she can wear her gown, she would have to lose a few more pounds. %y then she would be the prettiest debutante,! &ama says, touching my cheek briefly with the back of her hand. +ou would have to help us.!&anang$s lips are set into a straight line, one eyebrow subtly raised.I look at my feet in embarrassment, clenching my fists until the nails dig painfully into my palms. She wasn$t supposed to hear this4 #his is between &ama and me. 7ust between us. %ut &ama just had to say it out loud.I$ll give you recipes, &anang. 5kay, +ou can follow that, can$t you,! &ama then turns to me, not even waiting for a response from the old woman. 7ust a few more, and I$m sure she$llfit in that gown. And she$ll be ,erfe*t. We can$t simply ask 7ohnny to alter it yet again.!#hen I try to tune her out. %ut the comment$s like a dagger breaking through skin and fat,digging deeper and deeper, being twisted in the end when skin meets heel.6+es, &a$am.! And she yields like everybody else.An' 0 tho+ght (o+ 1ere on )( si'e..ood.! &ama sits on the sofa, and with a wave of her hand motions that we do the same. I sit beside her, while the old woman sits across from me. I s2uirm in my seat.&ama sighs and for a while she seems nostalgic. It$s been what, #hirteen years since you$ve been gone, *ow$s the old #arokmata, &anang, .od knows you$re my only connection to the old town. #he last time I was there I was a teenager.!#arokmata, &ama$s old hometown somewhere in Sorsogon, where her old life was, the one she refuses to talk about when she$s sober.It$s still the same,! &anang replies, her tone somber. %ut &ama takes no notice because she$s too absorbed in her own melancholy to notice anything.+ou know, &anang, sometimes I miss the old town. I had a lot of great memories there as a child.! &ama$s playing with her bracelet, encircling it around her wrist with a wistful smile on her face. If my memory serves me right, my uncles, #ata #iago and #ata Siloy are still living at the family estate with their families.!&anang$s eyes narrow at the mention of the names. Strange. /id she know them, %ut in a flash, the hardness is gone when &ama looks her way.1verybody knows the 1scandors,! "anay says, e0pression, blank.&ama preens at the comment. +es, well, we are an old family dating back to when the Spaniards came.! &ama smiles, a genuine one."anay is silent but I notice how her lips have thinned, the wrinkles around mouth are tautwith tension as if she$s holding back.What$s going on,7*ope you don$t mind me asking, but how$s your sister, She is after all the reason you left.!&y younger sister. She was sick. And when she asked me to return to our barrio, I just couldn$t say no,! "anay says as she looks down at palms outstretched on her lap, her voice shaking. She was the only one left in my family.!So that$s why she left. "ot because of me, and somehow, I am comforted by it. 1ven just a bit. I feel no lick of guilt nor shame at my self-centeredness. She$s in a better place now. She died last year,! she continues. Staring at her feet, I notice a bandaged ankle, barely covered by her long skirt.I$m sorry to hear that. )ondolences, &anang,! &ama says, elbowing me to say the same. )ondolences po.!#hank you, 8neng. &y sister$s in less pain wherever she is.! 9ain, What happened,&ama nods her head. Silence stretches to minutes until &ama$s eyes settles on #ito &onching$s picture on the mantelpiece. #he old woman and I follow her ga'e.&anang, as you can see I$ve remarried. &onching$s rarely here so don$t worry about him. *e$s a businessman, a 3il-Am, and he$s kind,! &ama says as if she$s trying to convince herself. *e$s been good to us,! &ama says. +es, &a$am.!+es. What else, I can$t think of anything else,! &ama shakes her head.&anang raises one gnarled finger as a smirk forms on her lips. *ow long, *ow far along are you,! She asks, puckering up her lips as she points at &ama$s belly with them.What is she talking about,8&ama$s eyes widen in shock. She opens and closes her mouth, failing to find the right words to speak. *ow did you know, &anang, Am I showing,! &ama asks, consciously, her hand on her flat stomach."o, child. %ut an old woman can always tell.! &anang wets her lips.&ama smiles.#hree months.!+ou$re pregnant,! I ask dumbly. B+t (o+2re fort(3 4o+2re ol'3%ut &ama being &ama doesn$t even shed me a glance.I$m sure you$re still tired from your journey. :est for a bit. Start tomorrow. We can always order takeout.!#hank you, &a$am.! .ood. "ow, that$s done. I$m sure -ani can show you to your room.! &ama turns to me,+ou just finish your snacks, sweetie. I$ll be back by dinner.! A caress on the cheek, and then she$s gone. Strutting in her two-inch heels, itching to get away from this empty house to her kumares$ get together.&y mother$s pregnant4 And she didn$t even tell me. A baby. #here will be a baby in the house, with &ama$s blood and #ito &onching$s blood running through its veins. I stare at the empty seat &ama left.I$m so happy to see you again, &eggie.!I lean in my seat, calming my nerves at the presence of the old woman. I don$t know what to say. I feel so uncertain under her ga'e. I don$t know who she is in my life. %ut the bond is there and I can feel it. She used to cradle me in her arms and sing me lullabies. &emories that were my saving grace when &ama was lost in men. A part of me wishes to rush in her arms and 9embrace her, to be enclosed once again in her warmth, in her familiarity. %ut the other part$s guarded and wary. 4o+ left )e. 3eelings I$ve pushed down for years.I nod my head, neither trusting my tongue, nor mind.-ani taps &anang on the shoulder and points to the maid$s 2uarters near the dirty kitchen.%ut &anang keeps staring at me, imploring me to catch her eye, when all I want is to be swallowed by the 1arth and not deal with all these feelings I can$t seem to understand.;I brush my hair a hundred times each day. )url my lashes. 9ut foundation on, some concealer, and some lip gloss. Willing myself to look like &ama. %ut it doesn$t work and the reflective glass doesn$t lie and I end up looking like a fool. I shrug it off and take a deep breath.I pull the weighing scale from underneath my bed and step on it. With my heart in my throat, I look down. A hundred and forty-two pounds. A pound heavier than yesterday. All in my five-foot, four-inch frame.*ow, When I haven$t eaten anything4! I hiss through gritted teeth, my hands curling into fists, nails breaking through skin.Stepping down, I take 2uick breaths, forcing myself to clear the roaring in my head and the impending clamor in my heart. 5ne moment more and my nails are on my arms, dragging through flesh again and again, and I$m red and brown, angry and crying.#he voices in my head are screaming and taunting.5+*6e' +, *o1. 5ail+re. Waste of s,a*e.It$s Sunday afternoon and I can$t leave my room, can$t leave the house, can$t move at all. It$s just one of those days.10I lie on my bed and curl into a ball, grinding my teeth, hugging myself, scratching my arms, wanting to peel the skin off, wanting to leave this body behind, waiting and waiting until the demons 2uiet down. I shut my eyes, searching for reprieve in the darkness.4o+2re fat an' +gl(. "o/o'( loves (o+.All in &ama$s voice.And I$m shaking like a leaf, rocking myself. 7h+t +,3 7h+t +,3 7h+t +,3 9ulling my hair out, writhing in some kind of limbo when I hear the knocking on the door, three crisp knocks, and heavy footsteps on the floorboard.I feel a hand on my arm, warm and familiar, fingers on my scalp, tender and soothing likebalm on a scar, brushing hair off my forehead, wiping the sweat off my brows and upper lip. #hen I hear humming like the ones in the lullabies I$ve ached to hear again.I open my eyes and see "anay staring back at me. .a'ing into her dark brown ( almost black eyes, I see their depth and their warmth, and my tears came pouring in like a broken dam within me.And in all my pathetic self, I cling onto her daster and bury my head into her chest as she holds me in her arms. #he smell of oils and herbs overwhelming my senses.I$m fat and ugly,! I say between sobs, my heart constricting. "o, 8neng. I$m fat,! she laughs, and I hear the tinkling of the bells, clear and light. +ou are just a bit chunky. %ut beautiful all the same,! says "anay, rubbing circles on my back.And I shake my head because I don$t believe her. &ama says I have to be thin just like her, se0y and beautiful just like her. &y skin can$t be helped, a lost cause. %ut my body can be molded, can be salvaged still. %ut I$m failing &ama. I$m barely losing weight. &y body refuses to cooperate, and I$m hungry, so hungry and hollow and numb.11:emember when you were a child, you were always so happy. What happened to my beautiful girl,! she whispers and the cry intensifies because I do remember being happy without a care in the world. And so I hold onto her and cry until the sobs subside and the demons die down.+ou$re so conscious of your looks just like -ucia,! "anay brushes the tears off my cheeks with the sleeve of her daster, smiling at me fondly, her eyes, filmy.I sit up on my bed, brushing my tears and snot with the back of my hand. Who is -ucia, "anay,!&y baby sister,! she whispers, tucking a few locks of hair behind my ear.What happened to her,!She died, 8neng. She died in a fire protecting our family,! "anay says, as she absentmindedly strokes her bandaged ankle.Was that from the fire,! I ask, pointing at her ankle."anay holds my face with both her wrinkled hands, ignoring my 2uestion. +ou are beautiful, 8neng. the burning sensation penetrating through skin and fats."anay cups my cheeks and wills my mouth to open. She parts her own lips, and her long e0tensile tongue makes itself known, hollow like a mockingbird$s. At its tip rests a small black stone, smooth and shiny. *er tongue seeks mine and I feel the stone being shoved down my throat. #he smell of the earth and wilting flowers encasing us both.It is done. #he gift is yours, my child.!I feel the stone travel down the length of my throat, dropping in my stomach, burying itself in my flesh, my body making room for its slumber, encasing it, flesh after flesh, and it$s as if my body is eating itself inside out, that gnawing feeling so familiar yet so strange. A moment more, I$m on my knees, screaming, holding onto "anay$s hands.In a flash, my door slams open and &ama shambles in. Sniffing the air, I catch the scent of wine, fear, and anger rolling off her in waves. She$s drunk and she$s afraid. %ut there is determination in her eyes that I have never seen before.+ouAyouA monster4! she screeches, her voice cracking in the end, but "anay just smirks, a knowing smile on her face, and a certain gleam in her black eyes.&ama yanks me off the floor and to her side. She slaps "anay across the face. #here$s so much force in that one smack that it sends "anay sprawling on the floor.*ow dare you,! I roar.37And suddenly, I see right through her, thin and small, on the verge of disappearing, her belly full of child, a mockery.A howl escapes my throat and &ama starts to cower away from me, gaping at me in horror.#he birds are screeching outside, and I see a tint of red in "anay$s eye.I look down at my hands, and watch as the fine hair on my arms grows course and long. I trace my tongue along my canines and feel them e0tending, turning into fangs. I hear my bones cracking, contorting to form a new shape that is beyond human. &y body is twisting and writhing in pain as warm blood course through my veins.What have you done to my daughter,! &ama screechesI$ve made her mine. And now, I$ll end your race as you have ended mine.!What are you talking about,!+ou 1scandors have killed the members of my race for generations. &y -ucia died in the fire that burned your family estate to the ground. #here are only two 1scandors left in this world,! "anay says, staring at her pregnant belly.&ama launches herself at "anay. 3ueled by rage and fear, she tears at her hair and claws at her face. "anay, at the sudden contact, stumbles and falls on her knees.I see red. I grab hold of her tiny wrist and s2uee'e. I see the fear in her ha'el eyes. %ut most of all, I see pain. All the pain she put me through. #he loneliness, the isolation, the self-hatred. And I s2uee'e harder, hearing her delicate bones breaking. She$s screaming and crying and pulling herself free. "o one hears her in this empty house.&eggie, anak.!#he voice in my head, directing.380t2s ti)e to fee'.I slap her across the face, beating her unconscious until she turns limp in my arms. I let my hand gra'e her stomach, letting one sharp nail slice through her nightgown, tracing her pregnant belly. I hear a faint heartbeat, and catch a whiff of fresh untainted meat.5ee'."anay tears the nightgown off the pathetic woman on the floor, e0posing smooth flawlessskin. "anay strokes her stomach, lovingly.We are not monsters. We are gods on two feet, my child. /on$t fight nature. 3eed.!I open my mouth, and let my tongue roam free, and like a snake it strikes on its target, piercing the navel sucking the infant out.&y beautiful girl, I$ll teach you the ways of my people.!"anay rubs circles on my back, as the demons die down, sated.We will leave this place. And we will live in peace and I would never leave your side.! 9romise after promise which I choose to believe.;#he night before "anay left, when I was five, I was peeking in her door, catching her pouring oil all over her naked body, her eyes were close, and her mouth parted.She$s singing my lullaby, a song in a foreign tongue I didn$t recogni'e. I wanted to say my goodbye so I didn$t wait for her to finish, and knocked. She opened her eyes, wore her robe and opened the door for me.Is it true "anay, +ou$re leaving,! I began."anay nodded her head, kissing my cheeks.I would come back for you.!39Would you,!She licked her thumb, her saliva long and thick, pressing it on my forehead.5f course. +ou$re my child. And I$ve marked you.!40