Poker Face

Collage requirement naq ni. I'm not supposed to post this yet... but it would be good if you wna read...

Poker Face September 3, 2009

By Tigerlily

“I hate you!”

My mind almost screamed these words out as I sat there, staring blankly at nowhere, fighting back tears. I’m already nineteen but they always treat me like I’m still nine. It’s always the same scene every night and I hate it. He, She and Me…

My blank expression seemed to infuriate her more because she kept shouting at me. I just shook my head. It’s always the same tale – “I don’t know what to do with you… You make me tired… I’m sick of this… You should be disciplined… You should be grounded…”

But mama…! – my brother cut in. He always has something in mind to defend himself, while I always stayed quiet. It’s no wonder why mama and papa preferred him than me despite his low grades and his lack of extracurricular activities. He’s always honest about what he feels.

“Ate always spoke harshly. I want to talk to her nicely but she’s always hotheaded. She always insults me… She doesn’t listen…” His voice trailed off. He continued on his seemingly unending tales about my coldness while I kept the blank expression on my face.

“Always the squealer... and what do you think of yourself?!” I said to myself.

I tried to divert my thoughts to the paperwork that I needed to finish. Yes. I should be thinking of it. Most of my papers are due this week and there are still a lot of things to be done. I started sorting the thoughts in my mind wishing that the litany would stop so I could get back to my work. But his outburst continued. It felt like he didn’t want to stop. I rolled my eyes and tossed my head back, heaving a sigh.

His loud sobs filled the quiet room. Dammit! He’s not a kid anymore, he’s 15!

“Ate…” mama’s stern voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Hmm?” I kept the blank expression.

“What can you say about this?”

I shook my head. More sobs.

I just wanted to get out of the room at that minute. I wished I could shed crocodile tears or walk out to end it. But I sat still. Poker-faced.

My thoughts hit reverse and played back scenes from grade school. Papa left me alone at a big school where I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t have any friends and I cried on the bus ride back to my grandpa’s house. They’ve always treated me as if I were independent even at an early age that I’ve never learned how to deal with people who contradict me. Mama’s always busy that she seldom spent time to see me at school. All of them had big hopes for me – no, gigantic ones. True, they didn’t pressure me that much, but, being alone, I felt that need to be more than what they expected of me. I brought medals home every March and people started seeing a bright future in me. But it was lonely at the top. I hated it.

I’ve never wanted it. All I wanted was a story before bedtime, a dad who could teach me how to ride the bike, a brother who would play marbles with me and a mom who would tuck me to bed and kiss me good night. At ten years old, I realized that I wished for too much. I should be satisfied with what I have. This was how they loved me and I should understand. After all, it’s for the best. But, I didn’t. I drifted farther away from them.

I grew more negligent as I entered high school. I crashed my grades, opposed my teachers and disrespected authority – trying with all my might to be noticed without going overboard. The worst situation I put myself into was begging at the principal’s office not to let mama know about my offenses – half rebellious but half grateful that they kept it from her.

The tenses changed too. The ‘is’ in “She is a very promising young girl”, was replaced by a ‘was’. It’s funny how things had changed so suddenly… and how easily the trust had gone.

“Ate… Are you listening?” Fast-forward to present time.

“Yes… Ma.” I answered faintly.

My brother broke into another sobbing fit once more.

“Looks like I’d be stranded here for another half hour…” I murmured glancing at the wall clock. It’s already 10:00pm. I should be in bed by now.

“Sniff…. Sniff…”

“When will he stop crying?” I asked myself.

“Sniff… Sniff… Ate… sobs….”

“Nak… Come on, tell me.” Mama rubbed his back to soothe him.

“Duh! Still the crybaby even at 15!” I silently retorted.

My brother, being the youngest, was the baby of the family. He always had his own way of making mama agree with him at most times. What he lacked academically, he made up in his sincerity and honesty. I’m far more different. I could easily fake a smile whenever necessary and put on a face to hide what I feel inside. I’m the moody and tactless type, he’s the nice one. I brought home the A’s while he tried his best to be like me. I wouldn’t want mama disturbing me when I work while he disturbs mama every night for his homework. We shared the same room that’s why we fought every time even over the smallest of things. I didn’t like him simply because I had the impression that he didn’t like me too. In fact, I could care less about him. I’m better off alone anyway.

More sobs – louder this time. It’s starting to irritate me. “Why won’t he stop?!”

“Nak… It’s okay to tell me what’s wrong. I’m listening…” mama kept on soothing him.

I looked away – expressionless.

“Ate… Do you want to say something?” Mama asked.

I raised a brow then looked away again. The hell I care.

“Sniff… sniff… see mama… sniff…” he heaved big, deep sighs.

“She… sniff… she… more sobs… she doesn’t… she doesn’t… like me…” I stared at him for one brief moment, and then looked away again.

“I… I love her mama…” he buried his face in his hands, then there was silence.

“It’s okay nak…” mama calmed him down.

“Come now… here’s a hanky. Wipe your nose then you can hug your ate.” Mama urged.

He stood up, bent down and hugged me. I sat still – almost as motionless as a stone, his towering figure closing in on me. I didn’t know how to react to my 15-year-old brother’s tight embrace. It just struck me. We’re not kids anymore.

He opened the door as I shook my head to brush a stray tear escaping from my eyelids. My thoughts were clouded by his words. If it were me, I’d have kept silent. I’ve never told him anything like that. But he… even at 15, he had the courage to be honest about it.

After he had gone, mama whispered while pushing back the long hair strands that covered my expressionless face, “You know better. You’re a big girl now…”

I was speechless for a moment. “I have to finish my stuff…” I said, preparing to walk out of the room.

“Don’t take too long nak… You have to sleep early.” She reminded.

I went straight to the kitchen for my coffee. I couldn’t cry now. The tears probably dried up inside. I’m all dried up inside. I wish I did what was to be done but I just stood there, leaning at the sink – staring blankly into nothing.

The cup was finally as empty as my mind; but as much as I wanted to, I knew, I couldn’t sleep yet. I hate it when I’m guilty. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t cry. I decided to go to the room and rest, but he might still be awake… It doesn’t matter. I went in.

His face seemed to glow as I put out the light and switched the night lamp on. He was sleeping so serenely. I sat by his bedside and studied his face for a few fleeting moments. My baby brother’s finally grown older. I want to kiss him, hug him tightly as he hugged me and tell him I love him too. But I just decided to go to bed. I know that it’s better done than just said. After all, I know better. I’m already nineteen…