this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on January 31, 1998.
We were already in the car and on our way to Greenhills when the dreaded message came on the beeper. A close friend said she had called Amanda’s house, and her mom answered the phone. What’s wrong with that? Well, Mandy was with us and she had told her mom she would be out camping with her whole class. And that spelled T-R-O-U-B -L-E.
We reached Gail’s house for a pre-birthday celebration at seven that weary. After the Christmas party in school, the movies, the encounter with a mean Tamaraw FX driver who wanted us to pay P25 each for a ride to Cash & Carry (what a Scrooge!), we ended up taking a jeep on Ayala Avenue and walking about six kilometers. (Hey MMDA chief, can’t you do something about it? We’re not the only ones who encounter these mean creatures behind the wheel!) We walked so that we could be as hungry as we could get in anticipation of a full, hearty, homemade dinner. And we were not disappointed. There was spaghetti oozing with meaty sauce, barbecue, baked tahong and Caesar’s salad. Then we did a little dancing (or should I say moving?). It was a good start. We were to have fun later at the party in Greenhills, worries and guilt feelings aside.
But was I wrong. Mandy called the classmate who beeped her and she confirmed that she talked with Mandy’s mom. Fortunately, she quickly realized her mistake when Mandy’s mom said she was out camping and muttered, “Ay. Oo nga pala.” After that, worries and feelings of guilt were in the air. The moment we arrived in Greenhills at around 10 in the evening, Mandy called home as she had promised. Since I was also going to use the phone, I followed her. I immediately sensed that something was wrong. It was there for anyone to see: the expression in Mandy’s eyes, her whispered apologies and her way of saying “Opo.” Then I overheard her dictating the address of the place where we were. Mandy told us the story. Her mom said she had gone to our school to check on her story. Then she knew there was no camping trip. She was coming over to fetch Mandy, whose eyes were brimming with tears. We braced ourselves for what was to come. All of us went down to the ground floor, not wishing to leave Mandy alone in her misery.
I went outside with Kristine, waiting for the arrival of Mandy’s mom in their gray Honda Civic. Then, there she was. Although I’ve never met her before, I knew it was her. I could see she was furious. She scolded Mandy in front of us. And she reprimanded all of us too, and demanded that we write our names on a piece of paper so she could report everything to our school authorities. Report what? The party hadn’t even started yet. We were all innocent until proven guilty, right? But we obeyed quietly, saying nothing and hanging on every word she said. When they left, everyone was looking depressed. Somebody asked, “Tuloy pa ha ang party?” The birthday girl said, “Sige, ituloy pa rin natin. Sayang naman ‘yung handa. ” Fine. But most of us couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened. A little later while Ann and I were on the ground floor waiting for Rus and Kaye to arrive, someone ran to us, crying. It was Mandy. We hugged her and asked why she came back. In tears, she told us: “Wala na raw siyang pakialam sa akin. Huwag na raw ako umuwi.” The last thing she needed were curious onlookers, so we decided to take her two floors below the unit where the party was going on. We sat down on the floor and her tears just flowed freely as she told us what happened. In the car, her mom got even madder. “Ano? Bababa ka ha, o itutulak kita?” she demanded. Mandy meekly replied, “Ma, gusto ko na pong umawi.” Her mother pushed her out of the car. Mandy was crying and crying and we didn’t know what to do except hug her and wipe her tears away. Ann went up to call the rest of the barkada. “Wala na raw siyang pakialam, ” Mandy kept sobbing. “Wala na raw siyang pakialam sa akin.” I tried to console her by saying her mom did it in anger and probably didn’t really mean it. But she said, “Katulad ng ginawa niya kay Daddy. Pinalayas din siya ni Mommy.” Her father was dead; a few months back he had a heart attack. Mandy went to school the day she learned of his death (her dad was not living with them when he died). She explained, “Ano naman ang gagawin ko sa bahay?” She would rather not miss her lessons than do nothing but cry at home. “Hindi man lang ako nakapag-sorry. Hindi man lang ako nakapagsabi ng ‘I love you.”‘
Wait, I am not trying to paint a picture of a wicked mother. She was going through a lot of pain after her husband’s death and trying to be both mother and father to her children. Then the barkada came and sat down with us on the floor, listening to Mandy, thinking what to do next, each weighing carefully what she would say. Some of us were already crying. I could say we were thinking the same thing, “Why is this happening to us?” It wasn’t Mandy who had a problem, we also had problems with our families, school, etc. It was almost two in the morning when we decided to leave the place and look for food. We found a small restaurant serving tapa, and no one wanted that. Since we were going to sleep over at Gail’s house, we decided to go to a Wendy’s outlet nearby. Kaye was feeling generous and paid for the food. At Gail’s house, only two of us could use the bed and seven others had to sleep on the floor. Some stayed awake reflecting on the things that happened, while the rest quickly fell asleep. Four hours later, we got up. Mandy called home to find out if her mom had changed her mind. Her mum Amelia where she was and what she was doing, and then told her to call again later. When Mandy called, it was her older brother who answered. He said he would pick her up at Cash & Carry. Progress, we thought. But we wondered if it was her mom who would drive that Civic again. Ann, Kaye and I accompanied Mandy. She apologized again for what had happened. We assured her everything was okay; that’s what friends were for. But she wasn’t going to let us go through the same experience again, so she asked us to hide behind a parked van when their car arrived. To our relief, it wasn’t her mom who came to fetch Mandy but their driver. She went straight home. Kaye, Anne and I were deep in thought when we went back to Gail’s house. We prayed everything would turn out right, especially since Christmas was only days away. We called Mandy’s house, but we couldn’t reach her. We thought that either she wasn’t being allowed to use the phone, or worse, she had been sent away. We decided to send her messages on her pager to express our thoughts, wishes, hopes and worries.
Finally, she was able to establish contact. She paged Ann to say she was okay and that she had been grounded (I think she sneaked out to beep). Once when she went to her brother’s office, she called me. She said that even after Christmas, her mom still wouldn’t talk to her. It must have been a terrible holiday season for her. Now that 1998 is here, we all yearn for a new beginning, for a better life and relationships for ourselves, for the barkada, for Mandy and her mom, and other teenagers who have the same problem. They say that mom knows best, but I think it isn’t true all the time.
To all the moms and dads out there: All we want aside from your love is your understanding, trust and patience. You must have gone through the same things. We are of different generations, but you seem to think your teenage children should be brought up in the same manner you were-no parties, no movies, no overnight educational trips. Aren’t you depriving us of living, of learning, of some time to be free of the pressure from school work and to enjoy with our friends? If you were brought this way and you hated it, why impose the same restrictions on your children? Parents shouldn’t think they always know what is right for their children. They should consult them before making any decisions involving their lives. Sometimes, children cannot even say what they think. When they try to reason out, the parents cut them off by saying, “O. sumasagot ka na!” Parents should understand that sometimes children are forced to lie because they know that they won’t be allowed to do something if they told the truth. Openness is what we need-and listening too, not just yakking and yakking. And please bear in mind that we love you, guys, very much, even if we don’t say it often enough.
