It was during summer so I had no school and it started because of a rather silly issue. My family were in the living room, and my father was making a mock phone call to a cousin who I was close with. My father was calling my cousin names because my cousin was rumored to be gay, and of course that set me off. But it wasn't about my father's bigotry which irked me, and in those days I wasn't "out" with anyone anyway, even with myself. I got mad simply because he was making fun of one of my friends. That started a row. And at that time, my father and I weren't on the best of terms. Shouting arguments with him were not uncommon in my teenage years. He used to hurt me physically too but that night I remembered it wasn't one such.
As we were exchanging choice words, my father deflected the issue to more serious ones, telling me I was only mad at him like that because he couldn't give me the things I needed for school. He couldn't buy me a computer. He couldn't buy me books. He couldn't give me enough baon in the first place. And that surprised me, because even if what he said was true, I never took those things against him. I never resented him for those lacks, not even once in my thoughts. Besides, that wasn't the issue at hand. But he stayed adamant about his own beliefs of why I was mad at him. He went on with ruing the day he allowed me to go to UP because it allowed me to be rebellious, as he once feared. He said I shouldn't fight back. He did not want anyone questioning his authority. I retorted that if that was the case then he did not want a son but a slave. All this time my mother was just sitting there quietly. She never interfered when we were fighting. As our shouting drew to an end, my father gave me an ultimatum - if I don't like how he's running our household then I should leave the house.
And so the next morning, I did.
I slept in the living room that night. I sneaked out of my bedroom, bringing my pillows and blankets and some clothes and I hunkered down on the sofa for the night. I woke up early, and when I passed through our gate, I left it wide open to spell it out for them that I was gone.
Thankfully, I had some money with me at the time, enough for me to commute to one of my aunts who lived nearby. And when I reached her house, I told her simply that my father and I had a fight and I asked her if I could stay there for the night. She just looked at me and nodded, and thankfully she did not ask too many questions. I played with my younger cousins there all day and though there was a tightness in my throat, I somehow forgot my troubles.
The next day they went shopping, and they let me tag along. They were quite on the richer side of the family since my uncle was a seaman, and so I had a grand time pretending for a day that I was okay and that I wasn't starving like we were back home. My two cousins were tugging at my arms, leading me this way or that, trying to play with me at the mall and for a while I felt like they were my own family. And I wished they were.
I told my aunt that for that night, I will be staying at my other aunt's house because one of my favorite cousins was staying there for the night too. So we parted on the road and she gave me some money and as she looked at me to say goodbye she might have seen something in my face because she pulled me closer and said "Halika nga dito" as if she was about to give me a hug but then I was standing too stiffly and I hardly moved so the hug never materialized. To this day, I feel sorry that hug did not happen. Back then, I still wasn't used to receiving hugs and I still didn't know how to react to them.
My second aunt was a bit stricter and she had a little scolding prepared for me when I got there. It wasn't very bad though because it was clear she only meant well for me. I forgot the rest of what she said except for these words: "Kung may lungkot, may ligaya."
On hindsight, it wasn't really very helpful advice. It wasn't really special or insightful or anything, but I suppose it was just the way she said them which made those words very meaningful for me. She's arguably my favorite aunt, and that's something because most of my aunts are really great people. She was the one who kept marvelling at me and believed in me, and she's special because we lived in the same house where I grew up and so she was there with me since the beginning. "Bakit ang galing-galing mo Bryan?" she used to tell me, even when she was in the hospital, dying from cancer. And even while she was sent home after her chemotherapy to spend more time with her family, she kept on asking me what I wanted for my birthday. I told her not to busy herself with it but then she insisted because she said "Last na naman 'to" and of course I had to turn my back on her that time because I was already crying so bad. She died two days before my birthday.
Anyway, back to the main story, the next day, I decided to sleep at yet another aunt's house, this one farther, up in Kalookan City. And so I said my goodbyes to my cousins and took the long commute north. It was on one of the jeepney rides in this part of my journey when my resolve began to weaken. I was confused why that was so, since I was welcomed okay by all my relatives. I was fed and I had good company. And I had enough money to take me to my next stop. But that lump in my throat grew bigger and bigger and it was all that I could do to keep myself from crying right there in the jeepney. This particular moment remains vivid in my mind after all these years.
When I reached my third aunt's house, my mother had already gotten abreast of my whereabouts. It seemed that she had been calling my relatives, and my two aunts have told her where I had been and where I was going next. To my surprise, my third aunt wasn't a bit mad about making my mother worry so. It seemed that my aunts already know about these things and they think running away from home is no different from visiting on Sundays. Incidentally, the cousin I had defended from my father lived there. Though of course, I did not tell my cousin the details of why I ran away in the first place.
I could have stayed there longer but the next day was my mother's birthday, and truth be told I was already missing her badly. So it was then that I decided to go back home. My third aunt gave me some more extra money to see me safely back home, and since I almost never spent all the money my aunts gave me except for my transportation fares, I was able to buy my Mom a cup of Cornetto ice cream and a siopao from 7-11. I knew it wasn't much but that was all I could afford.
I suppose my third aunt rang up my Mom to tell her I was going back home so that probably lessened much of the awkwardness if I were to suddenly turn up back in the gate out of nowhere. It was my Mom who opened the gate for me when I knocked, and I was aghast at seeing black circles under her eyes. It was so surreal because they were so thick it seemed like she wore thick eyeliner. I quickly gave her my gifts, greeted her, and immediately went up to my room. The house was silent for the next few days, except for my brother's occasional outbursts of craziness. And from then on, my father had been more careful with his words when I was around.
My father slammed down his fist. He had been cruel and unfair. So I revolted. And when I came back after three days, I showed him who really won that fight. But of course, I couldn't bask in this glory for too long because after all, he was still my father. And worse, I'm afraid that what I did back then broke him up for good. To this day, he seemed a broken image of who he used to be. Now he's the one doing my bidding.
Our family was never the same since I first ran away from home. Worse in some areas, better in others. Truth is, reader, I wrote about this because I've been thinking of running away a second time. But this time, not because of domestic arguments. But because, I just want to escape from them all...
Run away from my family.
Run away from work.
Run away from my friends.
I want to go on this journey of sorts. And it's silly because that's how it is in books and movies. And it's sillier because I feel the same. I have this urge within me to drop everything and go out there. To try my luck. To do all sorts of things away from my comfort zone. To learn to really survive.
And you know, to live.
To really live.
No comments:
Post a Comment