Baes + Babies

Dragged away

This story originally appeared in the Philippine Daily Inquirer on November 18, 1999.

Several minutes before midnight as I was about to sleep, Derick’s mom arrived at their house. I didn’t know why I was unusually apprehensive, but then no mother would be glad to see her son’s girlfriend sleeping in his room. She knocked and talked to Derick in a foreign language and left.

As I transferred myself from the bed to the carpeted floor to have a good sleep, the intercom rang and another alien conversation occurred. Derick saw me and offered to get a sleeping mattress. I pretended to be sleepy and refused. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek. It never occurred to me that it would be our last moment together. The intercom buzzed again. He left the room. Then I heard men shouting and a commotion. I thought that there was a fight. I thought I heard Derick mention my name. I nervously peeped at the door and saw several people outside the room.

His sister blocked me and told me, ”Don’t come out. We’re sending him to a rehabilitation center.” Two women who run the center bolted into the room and rummaged through my boyfriend’s bathroom dresser where he was just several minutes ago doing some drawings. There they found little plastics with crystal-like substance and a foil. The taller woman showed the materials to me and said, ”You are tolerating his addiction, you know. You are so pale! Gumagamit ka rin ba?” I almost puked, but I realized that even my vomit wouldn’t be worth throwing at her. I numbly picked Derick’s unfinished drawings and took his picture stuck on the side of the mirror but his mom took it from me. ”Forget him, it would be best if you erase him out of your mind. Don’t take any remembrances of your relationship,” she said. They continued to search and the same woman who accused me attempted to get some blue seal cigarettes from my boyfriend’s box, but immediately dropped them when she saw me staring at her. To save face, she asked loudly to no one in particular if she could have some and took two packs without waiting for a response.

They talked about bringing him to the United States the following morning and so on. I asked where my boyfriend was but they just gave me that exasperated look and said: ”It’s not your business anymore. He’s no good. I know him like a brother. You don’t deserve him. You have no future with him. Would you like to have a ride with us so you can go home?” I was brought home by Derick’s mom and sister at around one in the morning.

If only I knew what I would be getting, I would have just walked to Edsa and taken a cab from there. During the whole ride, Derick’s mom who appeared to be older than my own mother (she’s 50) showered me with concern. ”Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, sleeping at a man’s house?” she said. ”You know, my son was only using you as a cover for his addiction. He said that you’re only his friend and he has no plans of marrying a Filipina. It’s a good thing that you’ll be leaving in January. Why don’t you stay there for good at doon ka na rin magpakasal? Don’t wait for Derick any more, he doesn’t love you, I hope that you’ll realize that.”

Oh, these were music to my ears. What words of comfort, thank you! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, this woman who used to be so nice to me when we spoke over the telephone and who told me she’d rather that her son spend his time with me day in and out than hang out with his friends, was suddenly giving me a talk! As if snatching Derick away from me wasn’t painful enough, she had to leave me with spiteful statements. Why did I have the feeling that she only used me to monitor her son’s activities and pin him down?

Her parting words were: ”Thanks for helping us, at huwag ka nang tatawag sa amin.” As simple as that. Mission done! Ciao, Neris! Everything that happened that night was a complete surprise to me. Derick’s mother suddenly turned aloof and uncaring. My boyfriend was dragged away like a convicted sex maniac and I was bundled off like a bystander and worse an accomplice! I never thought that I’d be labeled as a ”user” by someone who just looked at my sleepless eyes, pale face and frail body. Are these the creatures who will help my boyfriend get over his addiction?

Don’t get me wrong. I am truly in favor of my boyfriend going through rehabilitation. If they thought that confining him there for the second time would bring him good, I respect their decision. I believe that all of us desire to help Derick attain and maintain his sobriety, but we prefer different approaches. Unfortunately his mom had another thing in mind. Derick and I have very different cultural, financial, educational and professional backgrounds. He comes from a very affluent and traditional family where getting a higher education is not given prime importance. The family is the type that would disinherit you if you marry someone who is not as yellow as their skin. What his mom said may be factual.

Maybe Derick’s sacrifices in picking me up from Greenhills and driving me to Paranaque through heavy traffic were mere pretense. Maybe he made those frequent overseas phone calls to me every time he was out of the country out of boredom. And when he freaked out after learning that I’d be leaving him next year to work and continue my study abroad was just an act. She may be right that her son doesn’t love me. Or he’s probably gay, because everytime I slept with him (which also tore the hair out of my parents’ scalp) he never forced me to do something against my values. I was probably wrong to think that he did it out of love and respect.

I know where Derick is. He’s not in the United States. The rehabilitation program usually takes six months to one year, depending on the resident’s behavior. By the time he’s out, I may not be here anymore. I’d rather believe that what his mom has done to me was merely an outburst of frustration. It’s better to think that way than to remain bitter. It is only Derick who can tell what the real score is and give closure to this turmoil. There are lots of unanswered questions left and so many things to be dealt with, like having him whole again. Getting well doesn’t end at the rehabilitation center. It is a continuous process where every day is a struggle. It may take a long while, but I must go on with my life and patiently wait for everything to be cleared. I’m sure they will be.

Neris

Neris, 23, worked as a psychiatric nurse for two years and is now taking her master's at the University of the Philippines in Diliman.

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