Sexy, Innocent Child-Woman

Just brooding...

I called Sr. M last Saturday, at around 11:30PM, Chicago time. It was already Sunday the 21st, 130PM, in the Philippines at that time, and she was in her family's house in Bulacan, relaxing after a brief trip to the seamstress (as her sister told me when I first called her sister's cellphone). Our conversation went well. Before I called her last week, we hadn't talked that much over the past couple of months, since my sumpong, topak, and pride combined kept me from calling her once a month, as I used to do up until last year. So we had a lot of catching up to do. She told me about the people she met up with before she went home--our common friends, like Sr. Joy and Ate Sharl--and what they were up to. She also relayed some messages, like Sr. Joy's questions for me: 1) Why would it take me at least two more years to finish my Ph.D. when I'm done with coursework and I only (ha!) have special fields and my dissertation to take care of; and 2) When are we going to Antigua? (Sr. Joy has gall bladder cancer, Stage 2, but she's acting as if nothing's changed. She just told me bilisan ko na daw mag-madre so we can go to Antigua together and do prison ministry there.)

At one point, Sr. M mentioned that she still had my jacket, which I lent her last December because she had forgotten to bring one, when she was gonna stay the night in the Aeta community that we visited. (Since we ended up not seeing each other anymore after that unforgettable day in Tarlac because of last-minute cancellations from her end, she never got to return it.) "Nakalimutan ko isauli," she told me. Deep inside, I wondered how she could even have returned my jacket when I was still home, since we didn't get to see each other anymore, as I said, and I'm not sure if Sr. Joy passed by Laoag when she went to Manila (where we met up) in mid-January, since she had come from Baguio. But I just told her to keep the jacket, since she could use it when it gets cold/when she goes to a colder region in Ethiopia. Heck, it was my favorite jacket because it was a pretty shade of blue and I had only used it once before I gave it to her. But she already has it, and I didn't want to be petty, so I gave her the jacket. I think the gesture was pretty symbolic in and of itself because during the months when we weren't on speaking terms, I occasionally considered asking her to return my jacket if I ever ended up cutting ties with her. So now that I gave her my favorite, new jacket, I gave her something to remember me by. I wonder what she'd think of whenever she would wear it or even just look at it. Does she remember how we ended up getting into a misunderstanding right after I lent her the jacket?

We talked about a lot of things--everything from what I did in the Philippines (e.g. my visits and sleepover in CIW) before I came back to Chicago last January, to what she did during her last few months in Laoag, to the plans we had (e.g. my research, her upcoming trip to Ethiopia). It turned out she had heard snippets of what I was up to through common friends, like my high school guidance counsellor, who she bumped into when she and the other sisters went swimming at my high school. She told me that my guidance counsellor was surprised that we didn't get to talk when I was home, or that I didn't call her anymore; I trust that she didn't say anything about the fight we had. I could imagine the look on her face when she told me about the conversation she had with my guidance counsellor. There was a note of sadness (regret?) in her voice. Maybe it pained her to know that she wasn't as "updated" as other people about my life, when I used to tell her everything and she was one of the first people to know about what I was up to, even after I moved here.

Our conversation went well. We weren't as tense or awkward as we were when I called her last April. After the fight we had right before Christmas of 2004, that was the most spontaneous and meaningful conversation we had. I didn't feel the heaviness in my heart--and the twinge of bitterness--that used to bother me.

But just when our conversation was going well, she said something that irritated me. I was telling her about how my relationship with my dad had improved considerably during my last visit to the Philippines, and I even thanked her for all her prayers through the years. I told her about how my dad and I actually hugged the night before I left for the States--which is something that hadn't happened in 5 years or so. Ang ganda ng kuwento ko, tapos bigla siyang humirit: "Tingnan mo...Buti pala hindi ka natuloy sa Laoag."

Where that tactless remark came from, I had no idea. I got irritated because for one, the sudden cancellation of my trip to Laoag, coupled with the way she treated me at the Aeta mission area when she knew that was possibly the last time we'd see each other indefinitely, was what triggered our misunderstanding in the first place. For another, my relationship with my dad did not improve overnight, for which it was inaccurate to attribute everything to the cancellation of my trip to Laoag. Given her line of thinking, she was in effect justifying her actions--which she incidentally apologized for in February. I felt that if I bought her line of thinking and let her think what she wanted to think or hear what she wanted to hear, I would concur with her in justifying the turn of events that led to our fight. Moreover, I really didn't think the the improvement in my relationship with my dad was remotely connected to the cancellation of my trip to Laoag.

So I told Sr. M ever so bluntly: "Don't give yourself credit for anything. Walang kinalaman 'yon (ang naudlot na biyahe ko sa Laoag).

She didn't get it at first, and insisted: "Meron." Just as she was about to elaborate on her (twisted) line of thinking...

I reiterated my point: "Don't give yourself credit for anything." There was an edge to my voice, and maybe if she continued harping on the silver lining behind the infamous incident in Tarlac, I would have put up a fight.

Luckily, she dropped the subject: "O sige." We ended the conversation shortly. Okay naman kami when we hung up, but the latter part of the conversation really bothered me. And I'm sure apektado siya n'ung nagtaray ako.

Utang na loob! If anything good came out of the misunderstanding I had with Sr. M, it was that I met up with friends I hadn't seen over the past three years kasi inuuna ko si Sr. M sa mga lakad ko noon--friends who REALLY cared and made an effort to see me. My sisters in CIW especially benefitted from that. And if my relationship with my dad improved because I was in Manila for a longer time and I at least went home every night after staying out late with my friends, then thanks be to God, but no thanks to her. Besides, if she had learned her lesson well, she would have known better than to allude to anything remotely connected to our fight. That's especially crucial now, when it's only a matter of weeks before her trip and Lord knows if we'll still get to talk once she's in Ethiopia, or see each other again.

***

Pahabol: Sr. Dinah called while I was typing this entry, so we ended up chatting for the next hour or so (uh-oh! Goodbye, free minutes, goodbye!). I told her how my conversation with Sr. M on Saturday night ended on a sour note. Her instant reaction was: "Mahal mo siya, noh?" I didn't answer the question right away. Well, oo naman, kaibigan ko iyon. Of course, I love her. I love her especially because she helped me make my peace with God during that fateful weekend in Kalangitan, Capas, Tarlac three and a half years ago. I love her even if she hurts me and treats me like crap at times (most of the time). I love her and I wish I could have spent more time with her during my last visit to the Philippines and that our last moments together had at least been meaningful (read: no misunderstandings), and I'm only sorry that didn't happen.

found herself @ 6:40 PM