[:a long school wait:] Flashback to when I was eight, almost thirteen years ago: "Mama, can you pick me up from school today?" "Sure, sure," she answered, while hurriedly putting her flats and earrings on. We were more than a little late for school and work, and the Manila traffic did not help any. But I was relishing in the fact that today, I did not need to take the bus with those loud, stinky kids, nor with the bus driver who liked to turn up Aerosmith and Guns'n'Roses, ringing my ears to high heaven. So after school, I watched as everyone else scrambled to the buses. I sat on the paved concrete by the parking lot, fairly confident that my mom's car would be behind all the commotion. Three hours later, I still sat doggedly in the same spot. A janitor was now out with her broom and dustpan, and looked at me. She was the first person I knew who died of breast cancer. "You wanna call home and ask someone to get you?" she asked. I shook my head, No, my mom's coming. The sky turned pink and my shadow was longer on the floor. Still, I waited.
Finally, the grumble of my stomach delivered the finality of the situation: it was dinner time and mom wasn't coming. I searched the school grounds for the janitor and once I found her, told her I needed to call home.
I arrived to eat dinner with my grandfather, usually the last one to eat because he came home late. I approached my mother afterwards, a little too timidly. "Why did you wait??" she asked incredulously. "You said you were going to pick me up." I replied.
"I don't remember ever saying that," but she still managed to keep my heart from exploding by a reassuring hug.