Second Chance? Part 3

The turning point

One morning, in between sobs, I heard knocks from our room. Nanay, his mom, entered the room.

O Neng* bakit ka umiiyak?

In between sobs, too, I told her how it feels to wait up for someone who isn’t coming home. She assured me she would talk to him. She advised me to stop crying because, “nakakasama yan sa bata.”

But I couldn’t help it. For the nights that followed, I would be lucky if there was a night that I would not cry. If by chance I did not cry, I would wake up at 3am, wait up for no one then fall back to sleep with a heavy heart.

One night, he went home. Nanay and I was sitting by the porch when he came and muttered not a single word. He did not even look at me, not even a single moment. As if I was inexistent. Nanay followed him inside. I sensed he came to get a few necessary items and left immediately. I looked at him as he walked away.

A week later, I decided I’m fed up. In between tears, I packed half of my clothes into one bag and left. Nanay was adamant. She didn’t want me to leave. But I stood firm and said I could no longer handle this. I left just a few minutes before midnight, oblivious of the dangers that a confused, pregnant woman like me could face at a suburban, dimly lit area.

A couple of weeks later, I came back. I had small chat with Nanay. She told me Mike had been going home lately, after I left. I looked around the room, and indeed, there were signs that he had been coming home. Used clothes hung by the wall, his drawers were unruly unlike the last time when I personally fixed his clothes.

I came back, not to stay, but to fetch the rest of my things. Symbolically, leaving half of my clothes in our common drawer meant I had hope in my heart that things could work out. Now that I took all of them, it meant I had stopped hoping.


Last call

Here we are, two and a half years later. He cut my thoughts.

Hindi mo ba ako babatiin?

Babatiin? Bakit? Ano’ng meron?

Kitamo, Nakalimutan mo na. Kinalimutan mo na naman talaga eh.

I remembered the date—today, September 7, is his birthday.

Gusto ko lang naman marinig ulit yung boses mo. Tsaka… ang tagal na nating di nag-usap ng ganito, di ba?

Yeah, I said.

True enough, we never had a serious talk since that fateful day when he asked me to pack my things. So from his perspective, there was no closure. From his perspective, we were not over yet. He held on to a tiny bit of hope on whatever was left of our relationship.

Be… he muttered.

I could not recall the last time he called me "Be," his term of endearment to me. Maybe last New Year when I agreed to show Nikki to him after his long pleadings. I sighed. It didn’t matter to me anymore.

Be… ganito na lang ba tayo? Kuntento ka na ba sa ganyan?

I heaved another sigh.

I never deprived him of his chance to prove himself worthy of being called a dad. When I gave birth to Nikki, I told myself that I’d give him a year to actually prove himself. Alas, a year passed and nothing happened. He was there during her christening, but did not attend her first birthday. During the party, the party host asked me where the celebrant’s dad was, I just shrugged. I wasn't ready for a response. Other than his presence at her baptism, he could pass as an absentee dad.

While it is true that I discourage him from asking me to bring him our child (he would, from time to time, text me asking to see Nikki at an agreed place, just like what happened in New Year), I would always tell him to come and see her at home instead. Since my parents dislike him because of the many, many things that happened and because he is "paternally incapacitated" (I am sure you understand that), he never had the courage to show his face at home. And since I refuse to bring her to him again, he’d be lucky to spend time with Nikki the second time this year. As a result, Nikki does not recognize him. The last time, she would cry unstoppably when he carried her.

Finally, I was able to speak up, in a rather trembling voice.

Ang alam ko kasi, matagal na tayong tapos e. Okay lang sa akin ang ganito. Sinabi ko sa sarili ko na kaya kong mag-isa to. Nagawa ko na yon ng dalawang taon, Mike. Gagawin ko yon hangga’t kaya ko.

I myself was surprised with what I said. But, I know in my heart that it didn't come with far-fetched reasons.

Ah ganon ba…

I could sense intense sadness, hurt and deep regret in his voice.

I’m sorry… I am very, very, very sorry…

He hung up.

I stared at my phone for a few minutes.

I knew prior to his call I was so sleepy. Now, an hour later after that call, sleep has totally eluded me.


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*Neng (short for Nineng) is my real nick at home. Nineng (or sometimes, Naneng) is an Ilocano endearment for “little girl.”

Second Chance? Part 2

Pwede ba tayong magsimula ulit?

The words kept echoing in my mind as I groped for words. I could not help but recall what our relationship's rather uneventful denouement was.

I was about 28 weeks heavy with my baby girl when I finally decided to move out of the apartment Mike and I had been renting. That I did, unmindful of the objections of his mom (who by the way, lived with us in the apartment) and his sister. His sister and her family lived in the next block and had been very open in telling me that she had hoped we will stay together. In truth, his whole family seemed to like me, I guess.

If that’s the case, why did I leave at all? you may wonder.


Back to the future

Mike and I lived together in January of 2004, for reasons I could no longer remember. What I vividly recall is the fact that my parents hate him. Okay, let’s say, they do not want me to get married to him—ever. But then, they did not stop me when, during the weekdays, I stayed at the apartment and spent the weekends in our house. I did not hear anything from my parents. I thought they were content because, at least, they get to see me on a regular basis.

Mike worked for at his tito’s bar/resto back then, and since he works in the evening, and I worked in the daytime, we would only catch each other around 3 am. I would leave the apartment 3 hours later. As you see, we did not have time to talk at all, because even during the weekends, I would go home to my family.

This situation went on for 12 more weeks when suddenly, one weekend, I decided not to go back to the apartment for the meantime.

My office phone rang on a Wednesday night. It was him.

Ba’t di ka umuwi? May problema ba?

Wala naman. Ayoko lang muna.

Bakit nga?

Basta…ayoko muna, ok?

But he refused to give in.

Umuwi ka bukas. Kailangan natin mag-usap.

The next day, I told my boss I will have my check-up so I will be able to report in the afternoon. Before lunch, I went to the apartment and there, I saw him alone in the house, still sleeping.

He woke up as I sat by the bed.

Kumusta ? Anong problema?

I could not speak. I did not know how or where to start. He got impatient after a few minutes of silence.

Hay… hindi ka na naman ba magsasalita?

I felt uncomfortable so I tried to excuse myself.

Punta muna ako sa doktor. Schedule ko kasi ng check-up ngayon. Tsaka nagmamadali kasi ako ngayon.

My OB’s clinic is only twenty or so steps away. But for one reason or another, I didn’t know why I could not stand up and leave.

O kala ko ba, nagmamadali ka?

I told myself, okay, I’ll stay first and talk to him.

I sat closer to him and mustered enough courage to express what has been bottled up for days, or weeks maybe. I told him how I felt about the very little time we have together each week. How I felt about the two of us na parang walang nangyayari. How I felt about our baby not having to bear his name. How I felt about having to deliver our child without a legal union—oh yes, the wedding that never took place. And a few more rantings I could no longer recall.

He told me a few other things but the next few lines hit right smack into a bruised ego:

Umuwi ka na muna sa inyo. Hindi pa ako handa. Dalhin mo na muna mga damit mo.

Ouch.

As if nothing happened, he got up, took his towel and darted towards the door, leaving me stunned, too shocked to even move a limb.

That night, I stayed at the apartment.

And the next night.

Even during weekends.

Little did I know, he had no plans of going home, at least for the next few weeks.

For the nights and weeks that followed, he didn’t show up in the apartment. Instead, he stayed in at the resto, where his tito provided a room for him. Every morning at 3 am, I would wake up, and wait for him. When I finally see the sun peeking through our window, I would cry. I would cry because I know he would never come home again that morning.

Already 26 weeks heavy with my Nikki, I shunned the risks of emotional trauma.

[to be continued]

Second Chance?

Two similar messages came in last night. it came from a number not listed in my phonebook. And, geez. It came from someone who seems lovestruck.

I responded nonchalantly, sensing that it was from somebody who wanted to play games on me.

cno po 2

He replied with another message...

..."sayang mnahal pa nmn kita."

The messages got me curious but i had an idea who the other person is. Before i could reply to his last message, here came another text. still, the message was overflowing with (alleged) love and longing.

...ako'y isang taong NGMAHAL SAU.

I am not in the mood to play games last night so I keyed in: Ewan.

Alas, the other person wasn’t giving in.

ako ung dting taong ngmahal sau. pwd pb kita mhaling muli?

Normally, i am not rude on similar occasions but this made me impatient and so I texted:

Pwd b deretsuhin mo nlng ako. ma22log n kc ako eh.

To which the other person replied:

ang taray mo nmn. c mike 2 gus2 lng sna kta mkausap.

Mike. So i was right. It was him after all.

Mike is Nikki's dad. We haven't met since new year when he begged to see my baby. I half-heartedly obliged back then, because I thought, New Year naman eh. pagbigyan ko na. So we met at a McDonald's store somewhere.

The last time he texted was June, a week before Nikki's 2nd birthday. I thought he texted to greet her in advance, but no. He was asking a favor which I could not give in to.

It actually took me a couple of minutes to collect my thoughts. To me, he was always like that, barging into my rather calm, quiescent world like a thief. Oh, you might say that was too uncouth for a lady. Of course, I respect him, him being the daddy of my darling little Nikki. And I always told myself, no matter what, I would teach my child to respect and love him despite our past. I will carry that vow in my heart. I wouldn't let her harbor hatred and resentment in her heart against her dad.

I realized that he was already on the other line:

O ba’t ayaw mo magsalita?

Eh di ba ikaw ang gustong kumausap sa akin?

Galit ka pa rin, eh…

Hindi ako galit. Sinabi ko naman diba na matutulog na ako.

The next few lines were some sort of updates from him. I didn’t tell him much updates about myself—I told him a few things about Nikki, like she being able to speak now and had in fact become really chubby. I was surprised when he said, Oo, alam ko.

He then told me that he was lurking around the periphery of our house the previous week. From inside a car, he was watching Nikki who at that time was outside the house with Nanay & Tatay. He did not get off because he knew World War III would break out once my parents see him. He was content watching his child from afar.

He then asked me:

Pa’no ba magsimula muli?

I did not respond. But he pushed the issue further.

Pwede ba tayong magsimula ulit?

Hmm… now this is some sort of a déjà vu.

[to be continued]