this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on January 22, 2011.
THE SOUND of the alarm clock wakes me up as early as 5 in the morning every day. I’d cover my face with the first pillow I could get my hands on, grab my iPod and put on some mellow songs, hoping I could get back to sleep. But then, I can no longer retrieve the dream that was brought to a halt by that freaking sound. So I’d get out of bed and scan some assigned readings. Then I’d find myself dozing on the study table 45 minutes before my first class.
Who’s the culprit in all these? My sister.
I hate her. Seriously, I hate her.
We go to the same school, belong to the same circle of friends, take the same course and have almost the same schedule. People often mistake us for twins, but we’re not. She’s a year older and we’re opposites. She’s tall, fair and pretty; I’m short, chubby and brown-skinned. She wants to go to the United States and marry a black American; I’d go for a British man and settle in Europe. She spends most of her allowance on clothes; I buy food. She loves chic-flicks; I love tragic romance. She’s an RnB fan; I’m more into soulful and mellow music. She plans to be a lawyer; I plan to be a film director. We’re just not the same.
Aside from our differences, she also has attitudes I can’t understand. She wants everything to be clean and perfect. She takes a bath two to three times during school days and more times during weekends. She sleeps late but wakes up early. She cries easily and laughs at the silliest jokes. She loves soft drinks and chocolates but is afraid to get fat. Although a guy broke her heart before, she still wants to fall in love. She doesn’t want to go out until someone asks her but cancels at the very last minute. She stares blankly at the closet for about 15 minutes before deciding what to wear. I just can’t figure her out, really.
I hate it when people compare us: Who’s more beautiful? Who’s smarter? Who’s more kind and lovable?
Undeniably, she looks good in her branded clothes and designer jeans. She also had good grades in high school and she’s No. 1 in Good Manners and Right Conduct. Though she kept shifting from one course to another in college, her general weighted average reached the average for college scholars. Plus, she’s more sociable than me. That is why she has more friends. No question about it, people like her more.
However, it’s not because of these that I hate her. There’s also something about her that makes me sick. Oh no, everything about her.
She’s authoritative. When mom’s not around, she’d yell at me: “Hugasan mo na ’yang pinggan; malalate na ako!” She nags me for my bath schedule: “Maligo ka na kaya. Ayoko ng kapatid na madungis, pulubi!” She shouts when I accidentally stumble in front of her, “Hay naku, bulag ka ba?” She complains about my fashion sense, “Magpalit ka nga, ang baduy mo. Yuck.” Not only that, she also inflicts physical pain on me.
See, she’s mean and egocentric. But thing is, she gets everything she wants. My dad bought her a MacBook when she entered college; I only have an Acer, and half of its payment came from my personal savings. We share a room, but she occupies the bigger space. She’s allowed to invite friends to come over. Sometimes, she doesn’t even ask permission but confidently holds small parties and sleepovers. I’ve never brought anyone home. She had a boyfriend back in high school that she didn’t tell our parents about. And yes, she buys anything she wants regardless of the price.
She hates her best friend, and I can’t really understand it. I know she hates her for coveting and seducing her childhood crush, but they still go out and shoot the breeze together. Behind her back, she makes faces and blurts out some nasty remarks. Which is hypocrisy. Tell me, who isn’t going to hate her for that?
I kept all these things from her, from our parents, and even from my best friend. I hated her all by myself, all this time. But I still try to get along with her, and act as if there’s nothing wrong. At night, we chitchat before we go to sleep, confess the “kilig” moments we had with our crushes, blab about our common friends and share our wish lists. But as soon as the alarm clock rings, she becomes once again the monster I have always wanted to deport out of the universe.
Last summer before classes commenced, I was down with a horrible fever. Our parents were in the province and only my sister and I were left at home. I didn’t know what to do. Neither did I expect any help from her to get through with my condition. Most of the time, I was half-asleep and I would notice her always checking on me, making sure I was still alive, I guess. She never left the house. She didn’t seem to get tired cooking for me even if I couldn’t finish a bowl of soup. She didn’t complain when I asked her to get me water every time I felt thirsty even at the middle of the night. She turned off the fan when I was feeling cold even if I was sure she was sweating in the heat of summer. And yes, for the first time, I felt my mom in her, not a monster.
I suddenly realized that I had been overlooking so many things, failing to see through her physical being and appreciate her for what she really is. I know that behind her nagging character and stubbornness, she really cares for me. She loves me more than any material thing. And she proves that when she chooses me over her long-time wish to have an iPhone. She buys food when I’m hungry although she is trying to save money. She always helps when I am having a hard time with my homework. Although I have to nag her for five minutes before she would finally agree to do it, she would finish household chores whenever I am too tired to attend to them. She says sorry when I’m hurt and cries with me when I’m down. She listens to my boring stories and laughs at my corny jokes. I’d wake up in the morning and find breakfast ready on the table. She has done her part to be a good ate to me, but I often overlook her positive side. Now, I feel sorry for that.
But who said I can’t hate her? I still do. But it’s a different kind of hate. I hate her although I can’t find any sensible reason for feeling that way. What can I give her on her next birthday? A hate card, maybe.
